Chapter Text
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The Sage of Truth’s lecture was located in the town square, as always. He moved around a lot, going from town to town, kingdom to kingdom. But his favorite place would always be near the Spire of Knowledge, his home and near the town he was in right now.
The Cookies were used to him, hundreds arriving just to see the Sage of Truth speak! It was exhilarating, but there was always a subtle doubt.
Around the end of the lecture, the Sage would ask the Cookies if they had questions and he’d answer them. Some were how to get rich, how to woo their neighbor, and such. But they would always be a Cookie who’d come from the last lecture.
You lied to me! You told me if I did everything a girl could want, she’d accept my proposal!
You said my son would live but he died, Sage of Truth!
I thought you always told the Truth and nothing but. Yet you lie to us constantly!
The Sage of Truth would always answer with the same charm: he told the Truth, not predictions. He could only simply give advice or assumptions to things only fate could control.
Fate was his equivalent of the Witches. He would continue to laugh and say, “the Witches are gone,” to anyone who asked even if no one ever stopped believing that they were the goddesses who created them out of benevolence and kindness.
It wasn’t his problem.
His problem was the Recluse who lived on the Peak of Truth in his tower, turning away his students whenever they were sent to the Peak to reach the enlightenment they needed.
His problem was the Recluse who came down rarely to debate.
His problem was the ever so stubborn Recluse who the Sage could never seem to charm.
It was… refreshing. Everyone else simply agreed with him (or sent death threats and tear covered letters to his office) and never questioned a thing the ‘oh so all mighty great Sage of Truth’ said.
Yet the Recluse had never even told him his name nor never lifted his cloak that shadowed his face. It was refreshing, just as it was annoying.
The Sage of Truth was always optimistic of course, yet his other half was pessimistic, finding his ‘bluntness’ as he had called it the reason Cookies didn’t understand. Didn’t understand that Truth could never ‘fix their problems’. It was cute, truly, how different and how much of opposites they were.
He had even made a list of things he knew about the Recluse. It was short, barely three things.
- Cookies call him the Recluse
- He lives at the Peak of Truth in the tall tower
- He never takes off his cloak
It made him even more intrigued of the mysterious Cookie who no one knew nothing of. The Sage had never met anyone who he knew so little about! Not even one of the books in the Spire’s extensive library even mentioned him—he hadn’t actually read every single book yet, but he knew summaries of the majority of them.
Truthless Recluse was done with the Sage of Truth the minute he had heard of him.
The Cookie who carried the other half of his Soul Jam.
The Cookie he hated. Showing up at his door, asking to debate, mocking him with his fake optimism.
It was pathetic.
It was making him feel pathetic seeing that…sad excuse for a sage match him in almost everything.
He even tried to ask him if he recently ate, brought him flowers occasionally, asked for his preferences...
That idiot was just asking for a fight. Mocking him like that, asking about his health all while barely knowing him.
It was all so fake.
He leaned back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. They were scheduled to have a debate in 30 minutes, assuming Truthless Recluse would come on time. He never did, arriving sometimes hours late, enjoying the look of slight annoyance on the Sage’s face.
Truthless Recluse had been tired recently, even more so than when he had so bad insomnia he was hallucinating. Where he passed out in one of their debates, the Sage of Truth cared for him till he teleported back to the tower in a delusional panic.
…Where the Sage of Truth teleported himself to follow him and make sure he was okay.
He could never escape the asshole, could he? His thoughts were plagued with that idiotic—
A bluebird came out of his window! That hadn’t happened in ages, even his garden birds had left after his corruption. Birds had always liked him—they were similar in many ways besides both possessing wings—until he fell into the rabbit hole of deceit.
“Hello,” he said softly, sitting up and walking over to the small bluebird.
A wave of irritation washed over him when he saw a letter attached to the bird’s legs.
He picked it up, unfurling the ribbon slowly before opening the letter. The bluebird looked almost impatient.
My dearest Recluse,
I write to you in regards of our debate that will be happening shortly! I would’ve gotten a real bird to send this, but it simply would’ve taken far too long! In short, I am the bluebird who sent the letter!
Truthless Recluse skeptically glanced at the bluebird who was now perched on his shoulder. He silently thanked the Witches that he hadn’t bothered to change out of a hood and his robes before continuing to read the letter.
No matter how sure you are that I am mocking you with my interest in you and our debates, I look forward to them. However, what I don’t look forward to is sitting in my office and waiting for you.
I have sent this letter as a reminder to please come on time this debate. It would please me immensely.
Love,
Blueberry Milk Cookie
Truthless Recluse had come on time, just like the Sage had asked in his (rather odd) letter, yet it was an hour after the debate was supposed to end and they were still continuing. It had come to a draw, like their debates always did. But this time, the Sage insisted they should continue it to see if they could get anywhere.
Truthless Recluse was done with this.
“Sage of Truth, it was a draw. Must you drag it out any longer?” Truthless Recluse muttered, groaning quietly.
“Feel free, my dear, to call me by my name! ‘Sage of Truth’ is simply a title.” Blueberry Milk's smile widened slightly, studying him brazenly. “Speaking of names, what’s yours? It cannot just be ‘Truthless Recluse’!”
Truthless Recluse’s eyes twitched. “Don’t call me pet names,” He snapped. “I don’t need to call you anything besides your title, same for you.”
Blueberry Milk suppressed a laugh at how flustered his other half could get.
“Of course! My apologies, my friend.” He teased, leaning forward with his chin resting on his hand.
Truthless Recluse scoffed and looked away. “I’m not your friend.”
At this point, the sage was purposefully trying to antagonize him.
He stood from his chair, adjusting his hood and starting to walk off.
Blueberry Milk stilled, his grin faltering for a moment before quickly regaining his composure following him, grabbing the edge of his cloak. He swiveled around, glaring at the other.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Fiesty, hmm? I promise not to take off your hood that you care oh so much about if you want.”
“Liar.” Truthless Recluse grabbed Blueberry Milk’s collar, yanking it so Blueberry Milk would be forced to look up at him. “If you want to continue your debates that you pretend to love, then we do it on my terms. Got it, gnat?” He hissed,
Blueberry Milk laughed breathily, mesmerized by the recluse’s heterochromia. Blue and yellow, he saw after catching a glimpse.
Something new to add to his list! His recluse has breathtaking eyes and thinks he’s lying about loving their debates.
“Oh, but my dear hermit, I do enjoy them! It’s not a lie.” He hummed, straightening his collar before taking Truthless Recluse’s hand gently.
Truthless Recluse didn’t retract his hand, yet it remained limp in Blueberry Milk’s. “I’m not ‘your hermit’, I’m not your ‘friend’, and I’m certainly not stupid enough to believe your facade and your endless ego.”
“It’s not a facade as you so graciously call it,” Blueberry Milk laughed, pulling Truthless Recluse closer. “I do genuinely enjoy your presence, Truthless.”
“Truthless Recluse.”
He laughed, entwining their fingers. “I do genuinely enjoy your presence, Truthless Recluse.”
Blueberry Milk’s smile softened slightly when Truthless Recluse begrudgingly reciprocated the hand-holding.
“I don’t expect you to believe me due to how much you lie to yourself about my true feelings, but I find you extremely intriguing.” And sexy.
Truthless Recluse hummed quietly, looking down at their hands before pulling away. “I…”
“Appreciate my display of affection?” He finished, his gentle smile morphing into a grin.
“I find you repulsing how you think you can win me over with words.” He huffed, embarrassed.
Why was he embarrassed? It wasn’t like the Sage’s words were actually true.
He didn’t care about the Sage of Truth.
He couldn’t.
“Oh, leaving so soon?” Blueberry Milk’s smile faltered.
Truthless Recluse ignored him, walking out of the room. It was decorated fully with blue, just like everything in the Spire of Knowledge. It was Blueberry Milk’s office after all, that smelled like him, had photos of his captivated smile, and—
Truthless Recluse’s wings ruffled from where they were cramped underneath his robes. What was he thinking about?! The sage was disgusting. He hurt Cookies with no remorse.
“You’ve stopped moving!” Blueberry Milk chirped, breaking him out of his trance.
He almost spoke but was able to keep his mouth shut long enough to glare sharply back at Blueberry Milk even if he couldn’t see it, pulling his hood lower as he stormed out of the room.
Truthless Recluse had to still after a few moments.
Where was he again? Damn the Spire—it was so confusing at points. It was too large for just one Cookie and some servants, which was why it was turned into the Academy.
It was still confusing.
He kept moving after a minute of thought, silently exhaling as he finally found the exit.
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