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Assistant: Title: Jambound
        Author: Anonymous undefined 
        Chapter: 12/32 
        Summary: The room is too bright.It’s quaint, in a nauseating sort of way. Polished floors glint from the gleaming honeycomb chandeliers overhead, make him squint. A few vases sprinkled here and there, filling the room with a sickeningly sweet scent – even a waffle-cone headrest framing the silken sheets of a neatly-tucked bed. Outside, the golden sun gleams, the gentle rays of light spilling past curtains that waver in the afternoon breeze.It's meant to be beautiful. Luxurious. Welcoming.With one sweep of his cane, Shadow Milk tears it apart.[[ Updated semi-weekly ]]
        Contents: Chapter 12
    

    


  

  
  
    
    Shadow Milk drifts in and out of consciousness for the next several days.He doesn’t remember their trip up to Pure Vanilla’s bedroom; his hazy recognition of his surroundings comes in waves, a vague familiarity in the plush pillows beneath his head or the heavy comforter tucked up to his chin. The sheets carry that same soft, vanilla scent he’s grown uncomfortably accustomed to – to say nothing of its bearer, who has been found sitting beside him each time Shadow Milk reluctantly opens his eyes.Pure Vanilla has not left his side once; rather, if he has, Shadow Milk has not been awake enough to notice. Each drowsy flutter of his eyes reveals the other laying in bed beside him – sometimes dozing in the afternoon sun, sometimes sitting up in bed and reading, writing, knitting. Each time Shadow Milk rouses himself to half-wakefulness he draws the other’s attention, earning him a gentle touch to his cheek or a murmured greeting and smile.There are – half-conversations, at best. Shadow Milk is often far too fatigued to give anything more than meager grunts before rolling over and slipping away again.It doesn’t stop Pure Vanilla from prying, however.“Are you alright?” is questioned, concern tangible even as a hand smooths through Shadow Milk’s hair.Shadow Milk is, and he isn’t. While sleep has always been optional, there is a pleasure to be found in its indulgence – especially when suffering from such a putrid lack of it. Yet the ache in his dough feels deeper, filtering down to his very core as his heavy sigh earns him another brush through his hair.Distantly, there’s a begrudging acknowledgement that this body isn’t meant for such extreme transformations. His true self, dough sealed away where even the darkest of magics cannot reach, had been perfectly suited for whatever forms he’d wished. There’s been no resistance, no pain in flitting between all shapes and sizes, monstrous or otherwise. Yet the shell he inhabits of Dark Enchantress Cookie’s own making, while passable, still lacks the finesse of a Witch’s touch. It is a bitter reminder to feel such exhaustion from what had once been as simple as breathing – that he is incomplete, a fraction of what he could be. Should be.However, giving voice to all this is far more effort than it’s worth; all he gives Pure Vanilla in reply is a muffled grunt as he turns over onto his side and settles back down again. There’s a hum and a gentle squeeze to his shoulder before Shadow Milk is drifting off back into slumber.It is, annoyingly, not the last time he’s prodded for response.Far too often his fleeting flickers of consciousness are exacerbated by Pure Vanilla’s voice, dragging him from the edges of sleep right into an irritable half-wakefulness. The other’s touch is far too familiar, too comfortable with helping prop Shadow Milk upright in bed as he sways sleepily from the motion. Gentle hands brushing the hair back from his face as another, tinier pair places a silver tray piled high with food in his lap, accompanied by the sounds of dresses swishing about the room.Every so often Shadow Milk glimpses the hazy outlines of the Neapolitan sisters at the corners of his vision; mercifully, he only needs to bare his teeth to get them to quickly scamper out of sight.The food is – not terrible, though Shadow Milk has little interest in it. He takes a handful of begrudging bites, a small appeasement before trying to flop back down; yet Pure Vanilla’s hands stubbornly catch him every time, coaxing him back up with gentle words of encouragement.“Come on.” There’s a plate of Candy Pasta on the tray, steam wafting from its glittering, pink strands. Pure Vanilla’s gaze is gentled, his tone revoltingly patient. “A few more bites. You need to eat.”“You need to eat,” is grumbled back under Shadow Milk’s breath. He cracks open one eye in full, shooting Pure Vanilla an irritable glare. “Bet you haven’t.”Pure Vanilla blinks in surprise; he tilts his head, considering. “I – suppose not, no.”Shadow Milk turns away, already trying to settle back down, but Pure Vanilla hand stubbornly catches his arm. Shadow Milk groans – loud, angry, in no mood – but Pure Vanilla’s grasp is firm.“I’ll eat too.” Pure Vanilla’s tone is one full of promise as he gently guides Shadow Milk back up. “Alright? You take a bite, I’ll take a bite.”“Get your own fork,” Shadow Milk mutters; his drowsiness softens his glare far more than he’d like. Still, he snatches the utensil up from the tray, irritably jabbing it into the pasta.“Apologies. There’s only one.”A scoff. “I don’t want your germs.”Pure Vanilla perks a brow. “Can you even get sick?”“Sick of you,” Shadow Milk mumbles back, sullenly stuffing the fork into his mouth. The remark earns him a laugh, even as Pure Vanilla reaches to take the offending utensil from his hand.“Fair enough.”They trade a few bites back and forth; Shadow Milk makes a face each time, but he finishes more than half of the meal before dropping the fork back onto the plate and finally, finally rolling back over onto his side. There’s another huffed laugh, the sounds of the tray being removed and tiny little feet hurrying away with clinking dishes; then the weight on the mattress dips and Pure Vanilla settles down beside him. A thank you is murmured in his ear; there’s a gentle brush against his cheek that Shadow Milk ignores, already slipping back into the blissful reprieve of slumber.The food, surprisingly, does seem to help.The next time Shadow Milk is roused to full wakefulness it’s by his own accord; he blinks spots from his vision as his eyes open to a patterned ceiling and the sounds of birds chirping through an open window. He shifts in bed, pushing himself up on his elbows as he gazes blearily around the room; it feels overly warmed, no doubt due to what looks to be the afternoon sun peeking in through curtains that have - perhaps considerately - been drawn half-shut.Unsurprisingly, Pure Vanilla is still sitting next to him; the other’s lap is covered in papers, a half-crumpled document in hand. His gaze is focused sharply ahead, perusing line by line while he nibbles absently on the tip of his feathered quill.The sight of it draws a strange flicker of warmth in Shadow Milk’s chest; he shakes his head, tossing aside the sensation even as the movement draws Pure Vanilla’s gaze to him.“Oh! You’re awake.” Pure Vanilla sets his page down, looking Shadow Milk over. “How are you feeling? Are you hungry?”“Calm down,” Shadow Milk sighs, reaching up a hand to rub at his eyes. “What’s with all the papers? You have a desk.”“Just finishing up.” Pure Vanilla reaches down, scooting some of the papers into a neater pile. “There was a trade agreement request I couldn’t ignore any longer.”Shadow Milk glances to the curtains, then back at the other. “Isn’t it the middle of the afternoon? Why aren’t you playing puppet-king in those insufferable little meetings of yours?”“I declined the offers.” A shrug; Pure Vanilla’s picked up another page, scanning over the header. “I am only ever asked to sit in on them. I do not have to.”A sigh; Shadow Milk flops back into the pillows, arms stretched out on either side. “So you’re just laying in bed all day instead?”Pure Vanilla tucks the corner of a page before replying: “I go where the need is greatest.”Shadow Milk rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. I’m not dying. I don’t need you here.”“I didn’t say it was your need.”A suspicious glance upwards; Pure Vanilla’s expression is perfectly neutral, eyes locked on his pages. Another roll of his eyes as Shadow Milk runs his hands over his face, gaze drifting vacantly up to the ceiling overhead.“What’d you tell them, anyway?”Pure Vanilla glances down. “Hm?”“Those pesky gnats in the halls.” Shadow Milk waves a hand vaguely. “Your dignitaries. You never did tell me how you lured them back here. What, doing bribes now?”“Lured?” Pure Vanilla’s surprise sounds genuine. “They were the ones scrabbling at my gates to be allowed back in. Keeping them out was the difficult part.”Shadow Milk returns Pure Vanilla’s curious gaze with a disbelieving glance of his own. “So, what? Neglect to tell them a Beast would be roaming the halls, then?” He grins, all teeth. “It’s fun to make them float. They make such delightful little squeals.”Pure Vanilla looks him over, curiosity fading into an amused smile. “I was perfectly honest with them. I announced that I was hosting a guest of unimaginable power with a penchant for trickery, from whom I could in no way guarantee their immediate safety should they cross his path.”Shadow Milk blinks; truthful, if not a bit overly blunt. “And?”“And,” Pure Vanilla continues, turning back to his papers, “they asked me if Ballroom C could be re-opened a week earlier.”Shadow Milk narrows his gaze in disbelief. “That’s it?”“That’s it.” Pure Vanilla gives him another amused glance. “I’m sad to say that despite our fabled pasts, you and I amount to little more than obstacles against the might of would-be political conferences.”A snort; Shadow Milk closes his eyes, letting the warmth of the room and the presence beside him settle into his dough. “My, my. Seems I’ll have to try so, so, so much harder to make an impression on them, then. Can’t be upstaged by a bunch of dreary suits, can we?”“I’m sure you’ll get your chance.” Pure Vanilla shifts in the bed, setting a stack of papers aside on the nightstand. “I’m afraid I’ll have to return to the halls tomorrow anyway. As pleasant as the break has been, the Crème Republic delegation waits for no Cookie.”Crème Republic… the name drifts through Shadow Milk’s mind, before a revoltingly bright smile sifts forth from his memories. Ah, yes. That puffed-up peacock. And the crone.Shadow Milk yawns loudly, stretching his arms above his head. “Going to miss lazing around in bed all day?”“Quite.” Pure Vanilla’s smile is unflinching. “It is not often I have a perfectly valid excuse to do so.”“Lazy.”“I,” Pure Vanilla hums, “have not been the one asleep for three days.”“Do you know how exhausting it is being me?” Shadow Milk lifts his hand again in a lazy wave. “To put up with you? You’re lucky it’s not a week.”“So you are feeling better, then?”“Eh. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.” He does feel more energized, more himself. The few minutes of wakefulness feel clearer than he’s felt in days; whatever extended rest this body had demanded, it seems he’s at the tail end of it. “But I may sleep in again, just in case.”“Just in case,” Pure Vanilla repeats, amusement tangible. “My. And I’m the lazy one?”Shadow Milk shrugs easily. “Maybe I just want the bed all to myself. You take up too much room.” A pause. “And you snore.”Pure Vanilla frowns. “I do not. And, may I point out that this is my bed?”Another shrug. “I didn’t tell you to bring me here.”“Your bed,” Pure Vanilla retorts calmly, “is on the ceiling.”Shadow Milk flutters his lashes. “Skill issue.”“What?”A yawn as Shadow Milk turns over onto his side. “I don’t know,” he admits sleepily. “Heard it from some of those little brats running around in the streets. Did I use it right?”“I,” Pure Vanilla replies with a laugh, “have no idea.”“Old man.”A gentle poke to Shadow Milk’s side. “Bedbug.”“Quiet.” Shadow Milk burrows deeper into the covers. “I’m resting.”“Again?”Shadow Milk shushes him, a long drawled sound that earns him another huffed laugh from the other. There’s the sound of rustling papers, Pure Vanilla bending back over his work as the weight on the mattress shifts once more.The quiet that settles over the room is pleasantly comfortable; it’s not long before Shadow Milk finds himself drifting back into peaceful slumber. His last, fleeting thought is that of the light scent of vanilla wafting from his pillows – and how warm he feels with every inhale.Perhaps he’d better sleep for another two days.Just in case. -- Shadow Milk is running again.There’s no light on his heels this time, no swaying treetops or perfect darkness to throw himself into. The sky is ablaze in a furious red, flames licking at rooftops as smoke chokes the air. The blackened haze is too great; he can barely see, ducking around street corners as his footsteps echo heavily across the cobblestones. The screams and cries all around him rise and fall in waves of shrieking, wails cutting through the air in a sick symphony of anguish and despair –His doing. His fault.Bodies lie crumbled at his feet as he runs; the city morphs and sways around him, fragments of time and place shattering with each step. He sprints past rows and rows of statues that flicker between the pristine calm of Pure Vanilla’s eternal grace, only to morph into his own twisting sneer bearing down upon him.The resounding clang of metal hitting stone; spears falling from the sky, striking inches from where he’d stood one step before. He runs and runs but he can hear the rattling at his heels, can glimpse the glinting silver chains slithering up faster than he can move. Time slows all around him as he struggles to take a single step more, reaching out helplessly in the dark as the chains wrap tight around his neck -A gasp. Painfully loud, rasped from a raw throat as Shadow Milk shoots straight up in bed.It’s – still light out. It’s the first thing that comes to mind as Shadow Milk grasps at his chest, heart still hammering out an unforgiving staccato that drives the breaths from him in heaving gasps. His Soul Jam feels aflame, twisting painfully as Shadow Milk doubles over, clutching at his face as he sucks in breath through gritted teeth.A dream. A wretched, unforgiveable dream – but a dream nonetheless.The second thing that slowly filters through his mind is that the mattress feels lighter than before.When Shadow Milk’s hands finally drop, he casts a tired gaze to his side – to find that Pure Vanilla is noticeably absent. It’s strange how unnatural it feels, to look over at empty pillows, to not feel that annoyingly persistent presence at his side after so long. Even stranger, despite the multitude of blankets piled high on the bed and the sun streaming in through the windows, the room feels decidedly colder than before.Dimly, Shadow Milk recalls the other’s remarks about leaving for the day before – something about the Crème Republic? No doubt for another tedious meeting Shadow Milk has no interest in; nothing he needs to concern himself with at any rate.Shadow Milk tugs the covers up to his chin, flopping back down into the pillows as he scrunches his eyes shut. His heartbeat still drums unhappily in his chest, still quickens his breaths – but Shadow Milk has no intention of letting some pathetic half-memory claim victory over him. He rolls onto his side, bundling himself up tight as he buries his face deeper into the pillows.The clock’s steady ticking echoes in the empty room, the only sound breaking the relative silence that’s settling back into place. Outside, a bird caws; there’s a ruffling of wings, the sound of a branch swaying in the wind as it takes off.Shadow Milk is cold.Irritably he pulls the covers tighter; he squirms down beneath them, tugging the covers over his head as he burrows into a cocoon of blankets. His own body heat is meager at best, sure – yet there still should be something retained in this mass of sheets. The air within the room itself is passably warm enough, the sun doing its best to keep the chill of the room’s shadows at bay; yet even when curling himself into a ball, absolutely burying himself beneath the mountain of covers he’s created –Shadow Milk is still cold.With a scowl he violently throws off the covers; the sheets drop limply to the floor as Shadow Milk sits upright in bed and stares venomously at nothing in particular. With or without the sheets, the feeling is unchanged – and Shadow Milk has a nasty suspicion of why.As if to mock him, his Soul Jam gives a gentle pulse in reply.Spoiled. That’s the only word for it. However many days with Pure Vanilla all cozied up against him has ruined whatever passes for normal in a shell like this. The other’s perpetual body heat has thrown his own for a loop; the regular lack of warmth Shadow Milk had grown so easily accustomed to is now off-kilter. Unbalanced.Spoiled.With an aggravated groan Shadow Milk lifts off the bed; he wobbles slightly, even something as natural as floating feeling slightly askew after such a long rest. He rubs at his eyes, scowl deepening as he massages his temples, feeling the first edges of a headache coming on. He should just go back to sleep – hadn’t that been nice? Blissful unconsciousness? Not having to think about his where and when, not having to notice that Pure Vanilla has once again ruined something for him?
  Will you please bear the cruelty of my kindness?
Shadow Milk exhales a long sigh; his hands drop tiredly from his face as he gazes down at the floor below. The chill seeping into his dough is relentless, prickling at the edges of his limbs even as Shadow Milk unconsciously rubs at his arm.Unfortunately, he knows exactly what he needs to do.That doesn’t mean he has to like it.The shadows welcome him back with open arms; Shadow Milk slides along them like the ripples in water as he makes his way through the cracks of the castle. Pure Vanilla’s room lies at the topmost spire, but the trip down doesn’t take too terribly long. Shadow Milk has to be thorough anyway – he’s not exactly sure which room will hold what he’s looking for.A few more minutes of drifting along through the darkness nets him new movement, a clamor of voices that ebb and flow along the currents of air. Shadow Milk traces his path through the walls, slipping down through the arches of a high ceiling before his path abruptly halts. Below him is a small ballroom – though it’s most certainly grand enough for its humble size. Stained sugar-glass windows cast multicolored hues across marbled floors; fine drapes and grandiose paintings line the walls in neat little rows. Most notably there is a large, oval table centered in the middle with Cookies seated all around its edges, passionately arguing back and forth. Sitting calmly at its head is –Ah. There.It’s a short jaunt down to the floor, a few quick flits between the shadows of the drapes until he’s safely beneath the table. As Shadow Milk crawls along the wooden underbelly, there’s a few close calls – some shifting legs, some angry slaps of hands that jostle him from above. It doesn’t take long, however, until he’s sliding his way up the tallest chair’s legs to his prize.The beckoning darkness of Pure Vanilla’s cloak is a blissful reprieve; Shadow Milk at least has enough dignity to muffle his sigh of relief as he melts back into its warm embrace.There’s a bit of rearranging, some shuffling as he settles back into the groove between Pure Vanilla’s shoulders. His Soul Jam pulses contentedly as he nestles down, his wispy form curling around itself in contentment. Shadow Milk lets his eyes flutter once; already, the pleasant warmth is pulling him away, dragging him back into the peaceful depths of slumber.“Why, hello there.”The murmured greeting is soft, barely above a whisper; still Shadow Milk’s eyes snap open in surprise. He stills, gaze flicking up as Pure Vanilla shifts in place. A beat of silence passes before a small chuckle reverberates down Pure Vanilla’s back, jostling Shadow Milk with the movement.“I know you’re there.” Hushed amusement, the other’s smile perfectly visible in Shadow Milk’s mind. “Finally out of bed, are we?”How did he-?Shadow Milk’s Soul Jam pulses happily; there’s a reverberation from Pure Vanilla’s own in reply.Ah. Right.A scoff; Shadow Milk stubbornly settles right back down. “Your room is freezing,” he mutters under his breath. “You’re a terrible host, you know that?”“Is it?” Pure Vanilla hums; his voice remains soft, barely audible as the other Cookies at the table continue bickering loudly back and forth. “It felt pleasant when I left this morning.”“Freezing,” Shadow Milk repeats sullenly. “Get a fireplace or something.”Pure Vanilla c@cks his head; Shadow Milk can feel himself shift along the other’s shoulder blades. “Could you not have simply conjured one?”A pause.“I’m resting.”“Poor thing.”“Be quiet.” Shadow Milk pinches at the dough beneath him, earning a small squeak in reply. “Now leave me alone. I’m going back to sleep.”“That may be difficult,” Pure Vanilla hums; he lifts his arms, folding his hands on the table. “I don’t foresee my guests quieting down anytime soon.”Shadow Milk cracks open an eye; while the clamor of the other Cookies had been a background din at best, there’s a detestable note of truth to Pure Vanilla’s remark. The shouting is growing steadily louder, angrier – more slams on the desk, more back and forths that seem to be taking on a decidedly personal nature.Politics. He has not missed this.Shadow Milk stretches briefly before slithering up to rest atop the curve of Pure Vanilla’s shoulder. He lazily eyes the Cookies bickering back and forth; while the bulk of them are largely unremarkable, he can pick out the familiar shine of Clotted Cream Cookie sitting near the back. Annoyingly, the other’s perfect smile is still firmly in place – even if his eyes are darkened by a slightly furrowed brow.Seems the fighting’s getting to the prince of puffery too.Shadow Milk huffs a sigh, watching the back and forth with little interest. “What exactly are these gnats sniping at each other about?”“A small island recently located far off the coast.” Pure Vanilla leans back in his chair. “Lush, uninhabited. Full of valuable resources.”“In whose waters?”“That,” Pure Vanilla replies with a click of his tongue, “is what they have been debating for the last five hours.”Five hours? “Sheesh. Why don’t you just get up and leave? It’s not like they can stop you.” Shadow Milk lifts a shadowy tendril, prodding at Pure Vanilla’s cheek. “Come on. You seriously want to be here?”“Not really. I have little to add.” Pure Vanilla lifts a hand, casually batting away the tendril as if shooing a fly. “Unfortunately, this is important. Tensions were already high between the delegates before the meeting even began. Even if I only sit here as a figurehead, if I excuse myself, it will only worsen their tempers.”Shadow Milk rolls his eyes. “Puppet-king.”“Some days,” Pure Vanilla hums. “It can feel like that, yes.”Another lazy glance around the room as Shadow Milk watches the other Cookies continue their row. He’s catching snippets here and there, some ridiculous claims of sovereignty and homelands and other such nonsense. Nothing of interest, save for the map they keep gesturing to centered at the table. There’s a large swathe of red encircling a small pinprick of land; judging by just how much pointing is going on, that must be the island itself.“Pretty small thing to be raising such a big fuss,” Shadow Milk remarks off-handedly.Pure Vanilla’s mouth opens – then swiftly clamps shut. His eyes glitter with sudden amusement, even as Shadow Milk shoots him a suspicious stare.“What?”“Nothing,” Pure Vanilla says smoothly, face lapsing back into practiced neutrality.Shadow Milk continues staring at him, eyes slowly narrowing into a glare. He digs his claws in, earning the tiniest wince from the other. “I,” he says dangerously, “can be taller than you any time I want.”The corner of Pure Vanilla’s lips twitch, ever so slightly. “I didn’t say a thing.”“You thought it.”A smile, in full this time. There’s no other reply, just Pure Vanilla’s gaze sliding smoothly back to the delegates bickering around him.Another few minutes pass; the clamoring voices don’t settle for a moment, trading blows as swiftly as their rapidly hoarsening voices allow. Shadow Milk’s eyes have fluttered once or twice, still lounging against the curve of Pure Vanilla’s throat – but each time he begins slipping away, another, rowdier voice cuts through the din and startles him awake again.One, in particular, is getting on his nerves.“Pure Vanilla Cookie!” The name is barked from a tall, swarthy fellow; gleaming badges decorate his chest, glinting in the light as Shadow Milk squints irritably. “Come now! You must see that Crème Republic has the clearest claims to this land!”“Calm yourself, Lebkuchen Cookie,” a spindly, bespectacled Cookie hisses. “That is no way to speak to our host.” A simpering smile is directed Pure Vanilla’s way; Shadow Milk wrinkles his nose in distaste. “My apologies for his lack of manners, Pure Vanilla Cookie.”“Oh, go stuff yourself back in your dusty old books, Tirggel Cookie!” the other Cookie barks back. “You Parfaedian types are all the same!”“Lebkuchen Cookie…” It’s surprising to hear Clotted Cream Cookie’s voice join the fray; though his impeccable smile has yet to falter, his tone carries open warning.“My apologies, my friends.” Pure Vanilla Cookie’s voice carries clearly; the rest of the room quiets instantly as he speaks. “The Vanilla Kingdom has no jurisdiction over these waters. I am here to mediate only.”“Then mediate!” Lebkuchen Cookie’s thick arms fly up in frustration. “Can’t you see how ridiculous these claims are! This island lies clearly within our shipping lanes!”“But not,” Tirggel Cookie snaps back, “within your borders. The island is clearly situated closer to Parfaedian lands, and should lie within our purview, not yours.”More arguing, more voices raising into shouts as Shadow Milk rolls his eyes. Beneath him, Pure Vanilla shifts uncomfortably; Shadow Milk can’t help but find his gaze drifting down to the other’s staff, now held tightly in Pure Vanilla’s hands.Something sharp prickles in Shadow Milk’s chest.“Pure Vanilla Cookie!” The name is barked like a threat, thundering across the hall. “Say something! Speak in our defense!”Pure Vanilla’s hands twist tightly around his staff. “That is not-”“Lebkuchen Cookie.” Sharp displeasure laces Clotted Cream Cookie’s words as he pushes himself up from the table. “Enough.”Lebkuchen Cookie is unmoved, unswayed – he points a massive, gauntleted hand square in Pure Vanilla’s direction as he bellows a furious: “Were you our king or not?!”Clotted Cream Cookie’s eyes narrow, mouth opening sharply –An explosion of darkness bursts out across the room.Black paints the walls, the floors, chokes out the ceilings as the lamps are snuffed out in quick, beheaded succession. A startled clamor rises from the table, Cookies scrambling to their feet as they turn their heads this way and that, trying to peer through the darkness swallowing up the room in its entirety. The sole remaining light shines from the glimmering beacon of Pure Vanilla’s staff, casting long shadows across the table that stretch across shocked, horrified faces-“Well looky, looky, looky!”Shadow Milk’s voice shakes the room with its presence; documents clatter to the floor as the chandeliers above sway dangerously. The delegates are bracing, hands coming up to clap over their ears from the sheer volume; their frightened gazes are drawn up, up into the darkness painted over the ceiling as Shadow Milk’s massive, wicked grin twists into view. His eyes blink into existence one by one, before narrowing with mirth as the congregation below lets out a collective gasp.Ah, a captive audience. Always a treat.“Looky at all these Cookies!” Shadow Milk’s gaze travels over the crowd one by one, savoring the horror, the fear – the look of mild affront on Clotted Cream Cookie’s face. “You know, I was having such a nice nap. But you all make quite the racket! Looking for attention, are we?”“Pure Vanilla Cookie!” Tirggel Cookie is flinching away, hand on his chest as he glances wildly around. “Pure Vanilla Cookie, what is-?”Shadow Milk finally turns his gaze to Pure Vanilla himself – and finds he’s being met with an apprehensive stare. Pure Vanilla’s expression is guarded, hands tight on his staff; bracing, but not hostile. Not yet. He remains seated where the others have stood, meeting Shadow Milk’s teasing smile with tense reservation.“What is this?!” Lebkuchen Cookie roars, pawing wildly at the darkness. “Show yourself, fiend!”“Ah, ah! Eager for the star of the show, are we?” Shadow Milk flings out another whirlwind of darkness, scattering what little papers remained; by the time it’s settled, he’s reformed his body above the table, hovering several feet in the air. Shadow Milk folds his arms behind his back, leaning forward as he gives his wide-eyed audience a wicked smile. “My, my, my! So many happy, smiling faces for little ol’ me. Tell me, what’s the occasion? Birthday party? Anniversary? Oh!” Shadow Milk claps his hands together; the room shakes from the impact, sending several Cookies stumbling. “Don’t tell me – Arbor Day?”“Shadow Milk Cookie.”Pure Vanilla’s voice cuts through the clamor like a knife – instantly, the room is silenced once more. Shadow Milk turns towards him, cocking his head politely with his trademark grin in place; Pure Vanilla gazes back at him calmly, unflinching. There’s a beat, a fragile moment that hangs between them as Pure Vanilla studies him closely, a deeply considering look in his eyes.Shadow Milk gives him a wink; Pure Vanilla’s brow perks imperceptibly, yet Shadow Milk can all but taste a fraction of tension leave the other’s shoulders. Finally, Pure Vanilla lets his eyes slip shut, raising a hand to his chest in a half-bow. “Good evening, Shadow Milk Cookie. We are in the middle of discussions regarding a land dispute between Parfaedia and the Crème Republic.” His eyes creak open again, a small tilt of his head. “Perhaps you have your own thoughts to share on the matter?”“Him?” gawps Lebkuchen Cookie, jaw going slack. “You’re asking this- this-”“Shadow Milk Cookie,” Pure Vanilla says smoothly, “is my guest. This information was given to your aides long before your arrival here last night.”“But-”“Considering his vast array of knowledge and millennia of experience, I would like to hear Shadow Milk Cookie’s input on the matter.” Pure Vanilla leans back in his chair, tilting his gaze back up to Shadow Milk in full. “If you feel so inclined, of course.”“Aw!” Shadow Milk grins ear to ear, summoning his cap before sweeping into a full bow of his own. “But of course! Can’t keep such an eager audience waiting, can we? Especially not when you’re so politely asking for an encore!”The rest of the room stands in silence, stunned; Tirggel Cookie’s mouth is flapping open and closed like a fish as he clutches at his robes, while Lebkuchen Cookie’s face is turning a delightful shade of red. Only Clotted Cream Cookie stands with perfect poise, arms behind his back as he pins Shadow Milk with an equally appraising gaze.Whatever. Can’t win them all.“Well, let’s see here!” Shadow Milk flicks his cane up; the map, having been scattered to the floor, flutters up along invisible strings to hover just in front of Shadow Milk’s face. He makes a show of peering at it, hemming and hawing as he rubs his chin and tsks under his breath. He even gives the paper a good poke with his cane before turning an unimpressed gaze out across the crowd.“Are you all talking about the Serpent Devil’s Isle?”“The-” Tirggel Cookie blinks, visibly taken aback. “The what?”“Yes, Shadow Milk Cookie.” Pure Vanilla’s tone is surprisingly calm. “The what?”“Oh, sure! The Serpent Devil’s Isle!” Shadow Milk prods the red circle on the map, a wide grin stretching across his face. “Great place! Lovely old curse on it too.”“Curse?” Clotted Cream Cookie’s voice cuts in, brow furrowing. “Are you saying there’s a curse on the land?”“Well…” Shadow Milk Cookie folds his arms behind his head, drifting on his back as he pretends to consider. “Not the land. Just good ol’ fangface Aneloby.” He waves a hand lazily. “You know, the Serpent Devil? Kind of what the place is named for. Sheesh, you guys are slow!”“There’s no serpent on that isle!” Lebkuchen Cookie seems to have found his voice again, slamming his fist on the table. “We’ve combed it top to bottom!”Shadow Milk flips over in the air, rolling his eyes for effect as he grins. “Well of course, silly! Not right now! Geez, you think I’m that bad at sealing portals?”“Sealing portals?” Tirggel Cookie echoes faintly.“Sure! Call it a favor to Cookiekind, waaaaay back in the day. I sealed her away…” Shadow Milk pretends to count with quick bobs of his cane. “Hm! Well, actually it has been a while, hasn’t it? Gosh, she could just pop right on out of there any day now!”Clotted Cream Cookie leans on the table, eyes scanning the floating map before flicking back over to Shadow Milk. “And how…” He clears his throat, visibly considering something before straightening his back. “How formidable a foe is this… Serpent Devil?”Shadow Milk flicks his cane; in an instant, a massive black snake’s head appears above him. The sheer size of it dwarfs the room, glistening fangs extended in a snarl as the crowd of Cookies lets out a gasp of horror. Shadow Milk lowers his gaze, perking his brow as Clotted Cream Cookie visibly sucks in a breath. “Well,” Shadow Milk drawls, “this’d be the head. But I don’t think the body is gonna fit into this itty bitty space. So sad!”Another wave of his cane and the head disappears, yet the stunned silence remains even as the last wisps of smoke fade out into the darkness. As the delegates turn to murmur amongst themselves, Shadow Milk sneaks a glance at Pure Vanilla – only to find the other watching him carefully with that same considering look. Shadow Milk flashes him another grin before turning back to the crowd.“Well!” Shadow Milk claps his hands together; the room rumbles from the impact once more. “That’s my time, folks! Gotta run, but gotta say – looking forward to the when, not the if of her return! Keep me posted, hm?” He floats higher into the darkness, twirling his cane in his palm alongside a theatrical bow. “But, ah-” Shadow Milk straightens up, flashing a smile that is all teeth. “I do have one tiny, teensy favor to ask. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind keeping it down a bit? I do need my beauty sleep, after all!”Shadow Milk then flicks his gaze to Pure Vanilla Cookie, eyes lidding slightly. “Your Majesty.”If there’s a reaction to be had, Shadow Milk cannot glimpse it from here; Pure Vanilla simply closes his eyes and inclines his head politely in acknowledgement.With a final wink, Shadow Milk melds back into the darkness above. A dramatic pause, a flick of his wrist and the black coating the room begins to ebb away, shrinking back along the walls as light slowly filters back in through the windows. As the rest of the Cookies mutter and turn their heads to watch, Shadow Milk flits along the receding shadows; it’s a simple matter to duck under their searching eyes and slip right back into the cover of Pure Vanilla’s cloak.As Shadow Milk settles back into his usual spot, there’s a small thrum of curiosity; his Soul Jam hums pleasantly with their renewed proximity, but Pure Vanilla hasn’t given any sign that he’s noticed yet. Rather, the other seems oddly focused, watching carefully as the crowd murmurs amongst themselves. Finally, Clotted Cream Cookie clears his throat, turning the heads of the crowd and lifting Pure Vanilla’s gaze as well.“Perhaps,” Clotted Cream Cookie remarks, surveying the room with a placidly calm smile. “We should turn our discussion towards a joint military endeavor instead. All in favor?”There’s a clamor of agreement; chairs scrape as Cookies begin taking their seats again, chattering amongst themselves. Their volume is muted, cautious – notes of trepidation and curiosity in full swing. Shadow Milk smirks to himself at the softened sounds, his eyes slipping shut as he lets out a satisfied huff.Much better.The meeting doesn’t seem to last that much longer; Shadow Milk is dozing off peacefully when he’s suddenly jostled by new motion. Pure Vanilla is getting to his feet, brushing off his robes as the clattering sound of receding footsteps fill the air. There’s a shaking of hands, a flurry of farewells, some more prattle about reconvening that Shadow Milk largely tunes out as he repositions himself in the cloak. Pure Vanilla trades a few more pleasantries, dips into far too many half-bows for Shadow Milk’s liking, and finally, finally is left alone in the empty ballroom as the last pair of footsteps recedes down the halls.It is a little bit odd how quiet Pure Vanilla’s been. Aside from speaking when spoken to by the delegates, the other hasn’t made much of a peep since Shadow Milk’s performance. Now he stands in silence, staring absently upwards at the ceiling – as if concentrating on something unseen. There’s been no greeting, no indication whatsoever that Pure Vanilla’s even aware of his presence.Unacceptable.Shadow Milk shifts in the cape, reaching out to form a claw that pokes into Pure Vanilla’s side. “Hey.”No response – not verbally, anyway. There’s a small start, an involuntary flinch from the touch; yet Pure Vanilla simply lowers his gaze down to the table, mind still apparently elsewhere.Shadow Milk’s brow furrows; he slips out from the cloak in full, reforming at the other’s side. “Hey,” he tries again, arms folded behind his back. “Hello? Earthbread to Nilly?”Pure Vanilla’s hand abruptly comes up to cover his mouth; his eyes avert as his head turns away from Shadow Milk in full.Fresh annoyance sings in Shadow Milk’s jam. “Seriously? What are you, pouting?” Shadow Milk’s hands rise to his hips, scowl already forming. “Come on, that went great! You can’t actually-”A pause as Shadow Milk’s gaze is sharply drawn down to Pure Vanilla’s shoulders – shoulders that are shaking, shuddering as Pure Vanilla begins slightly bending into himself.A bizarre reaction to be sure. Is Pure Vanilla sick? Nauseous? It’d explain the hand clasped over his mouth. Or is he truly that upset? Had it been the show? Certainly it had been theatrical – Shadow Milk is never anything else – but he hadn’t hurt anyone.Perhaps it had been too familiar. Too much darkness and teeth, too much – Shadow Milk.Shadow Milk leans in closer, trying to peer at the other’s face. “Nilly?” His tone is unconsciously softened, searching as he inquisitively prods the other. “Are you-?”An ugly snort rips through the air.Shadow Milk blinks.Pure Vanilla doubles over, shoulders trembling as a steady stream of muffled snickers fills the air. They’re leaking out from behind the man’s clasped hand, his eyes clenched shut as he shakes where he stands – yet when he reopens them, when he finally meets the searching gaze upon him, Shadow Milk can only stare in wonder at the tear-spotted mirth glittering in Pure Vanilla’s eyes.“Oh,” Pure Vanilla huffs, a stuttering gasp as another giggle slips past his lips. “Oh, my. I’m sorry, Shadow Milk, I-” The hand comes up to clasp at his mouth again; Pure Vanilla looks away, shaking his head as he tries to hide the smile on his lips. “Oh, my goodness.”Shadow Milk peers down at him, staring in disbelief – before slow, budding glee starts tugging at the corners of his own lips. A fragile warmth is blooming in his chest, sending pleasant tickles through his jam. “Oh, Pure Vanilla Cookie.”“Don’t,” Pure Vanilla sighs, rubbing at his cheek. “Oh, I was so worried. I thought I’d slip in front of the delegates. You-” His smile widens, hand finally dropping from his face. “You are always full of surprises, aren’t you?” Shadow Milk leans in close, all grins. “You liked my show.”“Yes.” Pure Vanilla exhales slowly, visibly trying to recompose himself even with the broad smile on his face. “Yes, I liked it.”“And here I thought you were giving me the cold shoulder!” Shadow Milk twirls in the air, flipping over and tilting his head to the side. “Oh, you’re so cruel, Nilly! Holding out on my standing ovation, how could you?”“You did have me worried for a bit.” Pure Vanilla’s looking him over again, clear amusement glittering in his eyes. “And you didn’t need to go quite so far.”“I,” Shadow Milk pronounces, hand flying to his chest, “am an actor. A playwright, a poet. A showman! Did you truly expect anything less?”“I didn’t know what to expect.” Pure Vanilla’s smile softens. “While I don’t necessarily agree with you frightening my guests, I suppose they were fairly warned. And I cannot say I’m disappointed in the results. It has been quite some time since Parfaedia and the Crème Republic have managed to put their differences aside.”“Oh, please.” Shadow Milk flips himself right-side up, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Other Cookies are so easy. Bicker, bicker, bicker until a Big Bad shows up. Then all of a sudden, insurmountable differences get pushed aside with a flick of a wrist! Really, such low-level manipulation is barely worth my time.”Pure Vanilla chuckles to himself. “I am to take it, then, that there is no Serpent’s Devil waiting in the wings?”“There is.” Shadow Milk shrugs. “Just not there. And probably not reemerging for a couple thousand years or so.” Shadow Milk extends a hand, pretending to inspect it for dirt. “Come on. You’ve met me. You think I’d be so sloppy in my spellwork as to let it lapse all w@lly-nilly? I’m hurt, truly.”“My apologies,” Pure Vanilla hums; he extends his own hand upwards in offering. “May I make it up to you, Shadow Milk?”“Maybe.” Shadow Milk eyes the offending appendage with practiced indifference. “What do you have in mind?”“A quiet dinner. A stroll through the gardens, if you’re up for it. It’s been quite some time since you’ve had fresh air.”Shadow Milk tilts his head, gaze drifting as he pretends to consider. “Hm. Hardly painting the town red with that offer.”“Well,” Pure Vanilla replies demurely, “I thought we could take things slow to start.”My, my, my.Shadow Milk perks a brow, a smile of his own twitching at his lips. “Hmph.” He takes Pure Vanilla’s hand, allows himself to be gently lowered through the air down to the other’s eye level. “Very well. I suppose I should take the fact you’re an old fool into account.”“How gracious.” Pure Vanilla’s smile is gentled, eyes soft and fond. “What would you like for dinner?”“I’m not picky.” Shadow Milk shrugs one shoulder, casting his own appraising gaze over the other. “What about you? Have you eaten?”Pure Vanilla gives him a curious look. “Why do you keep asking me that?”“Why is your answer always no?”A beat of silence; a sigh as Pure Vanilla dips his head in defeat. “You’re making a point.”“I usually am.” Shadow Milk lifts his free hand, flicking the brim of Pure Vanilla’s crown. “And a good one at that.”“So it seems.” Pure Vanilla motions to the door with his staff. “Shall we go eat then?”“Fine.” Shadow Milk finally releases Pure Vanilla’s hand, folding his arms behind his back as he drifts alongside the other. “I do have one rule, though.”“Oh?” Pure Vanilla glances over.“It’s very important,” Shadow Milk drawls. “You can’t break it.”“Really?” Pure Vanilla’s footsteps slow; he turns, giving Shadow Milk his attention in full. “What is it?”Shadow Milk leans forward, tapping the tip of his cane to Pure Vanilla’s forehead.“Use your own fork this time.”'
User: Do they kis?s
User: Do they kis?s
Assistant: