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Assistant: Title: Jambound
        Author: Anonymous undefined 
        Chapter: 6/28 
        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 6
    

    


  

  
  
    
    Shadow Milk is not a Cookie that is easily threatened.To be unarmed in a dark alley with a knife to one’s throat is enough to send any common Cookie’s heart racing; Shadow Milk merely stills in momentary surprise. His attention lapses at times – so little can possibly hold even a sliver of hope of harming him – yet this development is still… unexpected.Common banditry in the Vanillian streets? How far Pure Vanilla’s kingdom has fallen.The point of the blade is sharp enough to press to his throat, but it does not cut, merely pressing dangerous close with a small twitch in the hand of the one holding it. The sensation stings ever so slightly, like the scrape of unsanded wood on his dough.Wait, wood?“Biscocho Cookie!” A voice hisses from behind. “What are you doing?!”“What do you mean, what am I doing?” The blade presses closer; still, it does not cut. “She’s an intruder!”“She’s a girl!”“So?! She’s an intruder girl!”Shadow Milk blinks slowly; the voices argue back and forth, something remarkably… distinct about the pitch in their voices. His gaze drifts lazily down to the knife to his throat, looking the bandit’s weapon over. The hand holding it is small –Incredibly small. Absurdly small.The blade’s made of wood.This is a toy.Shadow Milk lifts his own hand, slowly pushing the blade away from his throat – his captors are so busy arguing that they don’t even seem to notice, letting Shadow Milk step away and turn in full to view them.Yep. These are children.The one with the knife – a pitiful excuse for a weapon, stuck together from strips of rotting wood – is a tiny little thing, perched atop a set of crates and waving his free hand in the air as he rants. The other boy – taller, slimmer, looks to have a few years on the other – has his hands on his hips, a well of clear exasperation in his eyes as he shakes his head.“We can’t have intruders wandering around!” Biscocho Cookie stabs his blade in the air, scowling. “She’s gonna mess everything up!”“Dude,” the other sighs. “Look at her! She’s a girl, you can’t be mean to her!”Okay, wow.“What!” Biscocho Cookie gawps. “No way! Daisy Cookie is mean to me all the time!”“Yeah, well!”“Well, what?! That’s not fair!”“I didn’t say it was fair!” The taller Cookie throws up his hands in frustration. “Those are the rules! Didn’t Mom ever tell you?”“No.” Biscocho Cookie folds his arms stubbornly across his chest. “She only tells me stories about knights and dragons.”“And what do the knights save from the dragons?” the other asks with a roll of his eyes.Biscocho Cookie blinks. “Princesses.” He then turns, shooting a suspicious look Shadow Milk’s way. “Are you a princess?”Shadow Milk, who has been vacantly watching the proceedings with a thin air of amusement, returns the suspicious stare with an unimpressed one of his own. This all seems quite beneath Lady Milk Crown Cookie; but he himself is willing to play along for a bit. Shadow Milk pulls out his fan, fluttering it front of his face as he gives the boys a slow once-over. “Do I look like a princess?”The pair of them, humorously, seem to give it some actual thought. Biscocho Cookie’s eyes squint, brow furrowing as he leans in to peer; the other’s look is more thoughtful, more appraising as he glances between Shadow Milk’s dress and hair.“Hmmmm.” Biscocho Cookie rubs a tiny hand under his chin. “Yeah, kinda.”Shadow Milk perks a brow. “Then isn’t that your answer?”“Dude!” The other Cookie hisses; he kicks at the crates, rattling them with the impact. “You threatened a princess!”“Cut it out, Rosquillo Cookie!” Biscocho Cookie flails his arms, quickly re-balancing. “I didn’t know! Besides, she’s not supposed to be here!”“She’s just lost.” The other – Rosquillo Cookie – nods his statement with an air of absolute confidence. “You’re lost, right? Ma’am? Um, Lady?”“You’re supposed to say your Highness,” Biscocho Cookie pipes in.“Shut up!”“You shut up!”Biscocho Cookie leaps off the crates; the two tangle and tussle together, pulling and shoving as Shadow Milk – well, he just watches. This mess doesn’t need his hands in it to escalate. It’s certainly amusing enough, a small smile of incredulity on his lips; yet it’s still just a Punch-and-Judy show. Best to move on before he gets entangled in more of their… this.Shadow Milk turns, already moving to slip past them and continue on his way, when Rosquillo Cookie calls out: “Wait, wait! Not that way!”“Hm?” Shadow Milk glances back, perking a brow. “And why not?”Rosquillo Cookie has divested himself of his brother, tossing the smaller Cookie off as he scrambles to stand. “It’s a dead end.” He glances backwards towards his sibling. “See? Lost.”Biscocho Cookie lies flat on the pavement, scowling at the sky. “So? Let her be lost.”“No way. We have to escort her. That’s what Dad says you do with lost ladies.”“What?” Biscocho Cookie snaps his head up. “Not fair! What about the heist?!”Heist?“We’ll do it after,” Rosquillo Cookie snaps back.“No,” Biscocho Cookie retorts firmly, folding his arms across his chest. “We promised Boss we’d get it done now.”Boss? Both of Shadow Milk’s brows lift; consider his interest thoroughly piqued.“Miss Highness,” Rosquillo Cookie begins, turning back to Shadow Milk with a little bow. “We would be honored to escort you-” A pause. “Um, where do you need escorting?”“Stupid.” Biscocho Cookie is getting to his feet, dusting off his shirt. “Princesses live in castles, remember?”“Oh, right!” Rosquillo Cookie brightens visibly. “Should we take her back to the castle?”No. No, they will not be doing that.“Actually,” Shadow Milk drawls, cutting off the boy with a flick of his fan. “I’m right where I need to be. I’m here to see your boss.”The declaration draws a surprised look from both boys; they glance between each other before Rosquillo Cookie asks: “Really?”Shadow Milk tilts his head, tsking audibly. “Are you calling a princess a liar?”“No!” the boy corrects hastily. “No, it’s just-”“We have business together,” Shadow Milk interrupts. “That’s all. So,” he continues smoothly, “will you brave knights be escorting me, or shall I wander about these grimy alleyways myself?”The pair look at each other again, visibly weighing the choice. Rosquillo Cookie gives Biscocho a look; the other finally sighs, unfolding his arms. “Fine!” he snaps. “But we’re doing the heist on the way.”Shadow Milk smiles to himself, sweeping out his skirts as he dips into a little mock bow of his own. “Well, then. Shall we?”If nothing comes of the pair, they’re an amusing diversion at best. But, on the off-chance, if there truly is some sinister underworld boss, hiding in the shadows of Pure Vanilla’s own streets–Well. That’d be something, wouldn’t it? -- The path the two take him on is… interesting, to say the least.They stick to the alleyways, never once brushing close to the main road; Rosquillo Cookie takes the lead, beckoning them down cramped corridors and hoisting his brother over ledges. There had, temporarily, been a moment of consideration as they’d tried to figure out how to get Shadow Milk over a particularly tall fence; it’d devolved into yet another back and forth, yet again, of what princesses do and don’t do. Their proclaimed inability to climb was new to Shadow Milk but hey, he’d never seen one do it himself.While the boys had bickered, Shadow Milk had simply folded his arms behind his back, stepping up into this air; it’s not until he’d floated well past the top of the fence that the two had noticed, mouths agape as Shadow Milk’d landed gracefully on the other side.As they’d stared in awe, Shadow Milk had hidden his smile beneath his fan and offered a simple:“Magic princess.”This trick, unfortunately, turned out to be a little more trouble than it’s worth. Biscocho Cookie had gone from suspicious to besotted in an instant, now practically hanging off Shadow Milk’s skirts as he babbles question after question.“Can you fly for real? Have you met a dragon? Can you defeat a dragon? Can you make me fly? How many dragons?”The chattering is non-stop; Shadow Milk ignores him for the most part, giving terse non-answers as he tries to shoo the pest out from under his feet. Honestly, he’d forgotten just how relentless children could be; Candy Apple Cookie had at least had the good sense to recognize his signs of irritation, even in her earliest years.Mercifully, their frequent stops are a good source of distraction – temporarily, at least.Despite the lofty claims of a heist, there’s yet to be anything remotely resembling one; instead, Rosquillo is openly knocking on Cookie’s doors, waiting patiently on porch steps with his satchel in hand. Biscocho Cookie and Shadow Milk hang far back – he has been stubbornly told by the other he is not to interfere – yet whenever a Cookie opens their door, all that occurs is a brief conversation before Rosquillo is handed a bag or parcel and the door shuts once again.Bizarre. A pick-up scam? Some sort of backwoods dealing?It’s not until the boy returns from their third stop, a large package in hand, that Shadow Milk finally questions: “What are you doing?”Rosquillo gives him an equally incredulous look. “Getting supplies?”“Supplies,” Shadow Milk repeats. “For…?”“The heist?”“Yeah, the heist!” Biscocho already is back to clinging to Shadow Milk’s leg, hands balled in the other’s skirts. “Can we go, can we go?”“Yeah.” Rosquillo Cookie is tucking the package into his satchel, shouldering the bag as he looks between the pair. “We’re gonna have to go slow from here, though. Black Raisin Cookie’s crows are everywhere.”Ah, now this is a name Shadow Milk knows. A renewed flicker of interest beats in his chest; if Black Raisin Cookie is who they’re avoiding, then this dismal arrangement holds some promise yet.They don’t have to go far; Rosquillo leads them down two more roads before throwing a hand out, stopping the pair in their tracks. He nods silently upwards; overhead, Shadow Milk glimpses a few stray tail feathers peeking out over the roof.Ah. The crows.The three of them wait; the bird ruffles itself, hopping back and forth for a bit. Shadow Milk can feel his patience waning as the seconds tick by, hand already sliding into his basket towards his cane-A sharp, two-toned whistle pierces the air.The bird squawks, taking off in a fluttering of wings; ahead, Shadow Milk can begin to make out the sounds of footsteps approaching, the clack of heels on stone.“There you are.”Ah. Shadow Milk knows this voice well, has heard it a million times through Pure Vanilla’s eyes. Gruff and hardened by a life under siege, eyes so sharp Shadow Milk can remember them piercing through the darkness even now.Black Raisin Cookie.“Come on.” A softer flapping of wings, the sound of a caw that she meets with a chuckle. “None of that. We’re going to be late.” Her footsteps resume – and they’re coming closer.Rosquillo Cookie holds a hand over his mouth, as if trying to smother the sounds of his own breathing. Biscocho Cookie clings closer, grasp tightening around Shadow Milk’s leg, burying his face in the other’s skirts-Ugh. His hands feel sticky.Yet all their bracing is for nothing; Black Raisin Cookie simply passes their hiding spot by, her boots echoing on the cobblestones until slowly fading out of earshot. Rosquillo Cookie still keeps his arm out, eyes narrowed in concentration as he waits – listening, as if expecting a return.When a minute passes in silence, he nods and makes an immediate beeline out of the alley.Shadow Milk watches with muted interest as the boy runs up to a nearby house – it’s a small thing, tucked into the corner with semi-wilted roses and a bird feeder tacked to the window. Rosquillo fumbles hastily with his satchel, pulling out one of the bags he’d received from their stops; he shakes it thrice and a small, copper key tumbles out into his palm. The boy shoves the key into the lock, prying open the door and immediately disappearing into the darkness of the house.Interesting. Shadow Milk tilts his head consideringly, ignoring the smaller Cookie practically vibrating with excitement next to him. Less of a smash and grab, more of a planned hit? Why had one of the other Cookies given him the key? Were they thieves in arms, or simply getting a cut of the deal?Rosquillo Cookie is quick in his work; it’s only another minute before he reappears in the doorway, clutching his satchel tight to his chest as he hurries down the steps. He sprints across the alley, nodding breathlessly at them as he passes. “Come on, come on!”“Did you get it?” Biscocho Cookie is hot on his heels, finally releasing his death grip on Shadow Milk to chase after his brother. “Did you, huh?”“Yeah, I got it.” Rosquillo motions to the left. “Let’s go, before she gets back. Boss is waiting.”Well. Seems this little adventure is paying off after all.Shadow Milk follows the pair as they lead him back down another series of alleys; most of it is back the way they came, but around the tenth bend Rosquillo takes a sharp right instead. There’s nothing remarkable down this way, only an old fence and a pile of crates stacked beside it – until Rosquillo gives them a push, sliding them out of the way to reveal a large hole in the wood. He gets on his hands and knees, ducking down to crawl through the gap; Biscocho Cookie excitedly follows after, practically wiggling on his belly through the dirt.Yeah. Shadow Milk’s not doing that.“Boss!” Rosquillo Cookie’s voice calls. “We’re back!”Shadow Milk’s eyes roll, a distasteful grimace on his mouth. He reaches into his basket, grabbing his cane and twirling it in his palm; a quick tap and he’s shrinking, stepping gingerly past looming blades of grass as he hurries through the hole. When he reaches the other side, Biscocho and Rosquillo are nowhere to be seen – but there’s a glimmer of light ahead, a new path in the alleyway that seems to open up into something larger.Another tap of his cane and Shadow Milk is back to full height; he dusts himself off, adjusting the cloak around his shoulders and stiffly straightening his back.As Shadow Milk walks forward, the light gets gradually brighter; he can glimpse what looks like a courtyard coming into view, littered with stray, dead leaves and what seem to be chalk drawings on the stones. When he steps out into full view, he has to squint; the glow of a lantern hanging overhead feels blinding after nearly an hour in the darkness of the alleys.Much like the plaza, there’s a fountain in the middle of courtyard; unlike the plaza, this one seems to be bone dry. There’s a few vines hanging off the edges, dirt caked on the stone – this place would look altogether abandoned, save for the small sets of outdoor tables and chairs scattered around.Save for the very, very familiar face sitting on the fountain’s edge.“Boss!” Rosquillo Cookie is hurrying over, presenting the satchel with an ecstatic grin.No.“We got it!” Biscocho Cookie jumps around excitedly. “We got it, just like you said!”No, no, no, no, no.“Oh?” A sickeningly sincere smile, the gracefully lowered lashes that have haunted Shadow Milk’s nightmares for months. “How wonderful! I was beginning to worry.”“And,” Biscocho adds, bouncing on his heels, “we found a princess.”Shadow Milk clenches down the urge to scream as Pure Vanilla’s gaze slowly lifts to meet his own.There is a tinny, ringing sensation in Shadow Milk’s head; it feels like a strangled sort of silence, smothering out the happy chattering of the children as Pure Vanilla simply-Looks at him.It’s revolting, makes his dough crawl with shuddering frustration to watch the other’s milky eyes slowly trace over his form – because he knows. He knows Pure Vanilla knows it’s him, knows by the subtle pulsing of their Soul Jams that he is being picked clean with each sweeping glance. The other’s expression gives nothing away, the air of a passive observer as he tilts his head with a vague sort of perk to his brow.And then Pure Vanilla is looking away, attention back to the children as he offers them a soft smile. “I see! A princess, you said?”“She’s magic.”“Is she now?”“We escorted her.” Biscocho’s chest puffs out with pride. “We’re knights.”Rosquillo Cookie nods. “She said she had business with you.”“Well then,” Pure Vanilla replies calmly, “I suppose she must.”The urge to scream is rising.“Here.” Rosquillo Cookie reaches into his satchel, pulling out a small slip of paper. He offers it to Pure Vanilla, adding: “I dropped off Silvana Cookie’s gifts with a note, like you asked.”Gifts. Gifts?“Thank you.” Pure Vanilla takes the paper, unfolding it in his hands. “Do you have a pen?”Rosquillo produces one from his bag; Pure Vanilla places the paper on his lap, scribbling something out before returning both items to the boy. “And Black Raisin Cookie didn’t see you?”“No.” Rosquillo shakes his head. “It was close, though.”“I’m grateful.” Pure Vanilla smiles warmly, reaching into his pocket. “I’ve felt just awful about forgetting to sign her card.” Pure Vanilla produces a small pouch; from the way it jingles, no doubt filled with coin. “Do you think you can place the card back without being caught?”“Of course, Boss!” Biscocho proclaims, hands on his hips. “We’re excellent heisters!”“That you are.” Pure Vanilla leans forward, gently ruffling the boy’s hair. “And I’m sure it will make for a wonderful surprise. Make sure to return Black Raisin Cookie’s spare key when you’re done, alright?”“Come on.” Rosquillo Cookie’s taking his brother’s hand, giving it a little tug. “Let’s go. It’s getting dark.”“Bye, Boss!” Biscocho waves excitedly, arms flailing as his brother drags him away. “Bye, Magic Princess!”Shadow Milk says nothing, staring after the two in stunned silence as they disappear back down the alleyway. His mind’s a mess, disbelief and ugly, nasty frustration twisting in his chest – the main source of which sits as calmly as can be, a soft smile still resting on his lips.Of course. Of course he’d be behind this.Shadow Milk turns on his heels, eyes narrowed to slits. “Explain,” he hisses through gritted teeth.Pure Vanilla remains perfectly still; the only sign of recognition is a small tilt to his head. “They are children from my old village. Rosquillo Cookie run odd jobs for me from time to time.” His tone is disturbingly neutral – no amusement, no disdain. “We make a game of it for his younger brother.” A pause. “Does that explanation suffice?”It – does, in a way; yet it still does nothing to lessen the blow.Games. This had been just another one of Pure Vanilla’s games.“They said it was a heist.”“Indeed. We thought calling it that might make fetching tasks a bit more exciting for Biscocho Cookie.” Pure Vanilla reaches to his side; briefly, Shadow Milk spots a series of tiny, loose braids swinging from golden hair. When Pure Vanilla turns back, there is a set of knitting needles and a patchwork pattern in his hands.Shadow Milk continues to stare. “They called you Boss.”“Yes,” Pure Vanilla replies calmly. He offers nothing else.A long beat of silence stretches between them.Pure Vanilla places pattern in his lap, glancing briefly at Shadow Milk as if posing a silent question.Shadow Milk says nothing, pure disbelief choking out all sensible thought; Pure Vanilla seems to accept his silence as an answer; the other’s gaze lowers as he takes his needles in hand, tapping them together twice before he just-Starts.Knitting.Shadow Milk Cookie’s grip on his cane tightens so fiercely it threatens to splinter.“Is that it?”Pure Vanilla doesn’t so much as glance at him.Shadow Milk fights back a snarl, swiftly tearing off the magic cloaking his form; he lunges through the air, all pretense dropped as he leans in to hover directly before the other’s face. “Hey,” he hisses, all teeth, all threat. “I’m talking to you.”Pure Vanilla’s hands begin to still; his implacable gaze slowly lifts to meet Shadow Milk’s own.“Yes?”“Um, hello!” Shadow Milk gestures to himself wildly. “I am right here. What do you think you’re doing?”Pure Vanilla’s blink feels deliberately slow. “Knitting.” His chin begins to tilt back down – before Shadow Milk catches it with the tip of his cane, forcing it back up.“Haven’t I told you before? It’s dangerous to ignore me.”Pure Vanilla’s lidded gaze remains wholly unimpressed. “Are you looking for my thoughts,” he queries dully, “or just my attention?”Shadow Milk recoils as if struck; when several more beats of silence pass between them, Pure Vanilla’s gaze drops back down, his needles resuming their motions.Infuriating. Petty. Annoying.Shadow Milk forces a grin onto his face, cocking his head mockingly. “Oh, give me a break! What is this, hm? Some sort of silent treatment?”“I am responding to you.” Toneless, unenthused. “You simply do not like my answers.”Shadow Milk twists in the air, drifting in circles around the other. “Oh, please. You think being a boring old stick in the mud is gonna stop me?” Shadow Milk pokes Pure Vanilla’s cheek with his cane; no reaction. “Geez, don’t tell me you’re sulking. That’s real disappointing, Nilly, not gonna lie! So serious, and for what? Because I brightened up your oh-so dismal subjects’ day with some delightful tomfoolery?”“I’m not sulking.” Pure Vanilla tugs on a thread of yarn that’s tangled itself. “I’m thinking.”“About what?”“I’m angry with you.”Shadow Milk’s eyes instantly narrow.“And,” Pure Vanilla continues tonelessly, “because I am angry, I am attempting to choose my words as carefully as I can.”Shadow Milk’s lips twist with an ugly smirk, his arms folding across his chest. “Hey, don’t hang back on my account, Dollface. Go on, get it off your chest. Really let it fly.”“Very well.” Pure Vanilla finally, finally sets his knitting down; he folds his hands in his lap, looking up to meet Shadow Milk’s expectant stare. “Then let me make my first thoughts perfectly clear.” Another slow blink, an inhale of breath before:“You do not need to be here.”Shadow Milk’s smirk twists into an ugly sneer. “Oh, is that-”“I do not mean,” Pure Vanilla interrupts, holding a hand up, “at the markets. We will get to that later. I mean here, in the Vanilla Kingdom. You, Shadow Milk Cookie, do not have to stay here because of me.”Pure Vanilla’s watching him closely; Shadow Milk can all but feel the other’s steady gaze tracing the furrowed brow of Shadow Milk’s open displeasure. “Hah!” Shadow Milk rolls his eyes, rolls them far enough that they flip around and rattle in his sockets. “That’s it? Cause I hate to break it to ya-”“No,” Pure Vanilla continues smoothly, “it is not. I offered you a place within these lands sincerely, and I am not retracting that offer. But you do not have to be here. I will not be angry, and I will not withhold our connection if you change your mind about staying here.”Shadow Milk folds his arms behind his back, leveling the other an unimpressed stare. “Ya done?”“No,” Pure Vanilla repeats. “I have no solution for our… entanglement, for the time being. But, if you so choose, I am willing to treat any time together as simple satiation and part immediately after.” Pure Vanilla reaches up, touching his Soul Jam. “We do not have to spend extended time in each other’s company. We do not even have to speak to the other, if that’s what you really want. You may stay where you wish, for however long you wish, as I continue to look for a cure.”The steadiness of Pure Vanilla’s words, the unwavering expression of calm – it’s unnerving. Shadow Milk stares down at him, uneasiness and irritation swirling inside him as he toys with the cane in his palm. “Huh!” he says finally, averting his gaze to place a false smile on his lips. “How bold! I’ve really gotten to you, hm? And here I thought you were baked with sterner stuff!”“Do not mistake willingness for desire.”Shadow Milk blinks, his gaze flicking back to meet Pure Vanilla’s. “Huh?”“I am willing to do this.” Pure Vanilla holds his gaze unwaveringly. “It does not mean I want to. I want you to remain here, with me. I enjoy your company, and I enjoy our time together. That has not changed simply because you frustrate me at times.”A strange sensation twists in Shadow Milk’s chest.“But,” Pure Vanilla continues, “though I have said this before, I will say it again – I will not cage you. If you truly feel that my presence is a shackle, I will not resist your choice to break away from me.” Then Pure Vanilla is turning away, reaching for his knitting as he repositions it in his lap. “If that is the case, we may end the conversation here. Even if my own desires conflict, I will respect your right to choose to where you want to be. You do not deserve to have that taken away from you again.”Silence reigns again, broken only by the soft, intermittent clicking of Pure Vanilla’s needles.There are very few things that can leave Shadow Milk speechless – this seems to be one of them. Absurdly blunt, revoltingly to the point. Where is the game, the chase? It’s disappointing, dizzyingly so, to watch Pure Vanilla just…Give in.“Huh!” Shadow Milk twirls his cane; he’s looking everywhere but Pure Vanilla. “Gotta say, I’m surprised! Not like you to just – throw in the towel! I mean, knowing you, I was half-expecting an apology for your little lightshow-”“There are actions I regret.” Pure Vanilla loops another thread through his needles. “Things I think I would do differently, if given the chance. Would you like to hear them?”Shadow Milk perks a curious brow, leaning in closer. “Oh? The great Pure Vanilla Cookie, admitting when he’s wrong? Well, now you’ve got me curious.”“If I tell you,” Pure Vanilla asks mildly, “will you consider staying?”A scoff – my, he really is bold today. “Pheh! We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”“Alright.” The knitting is set back down, Pure Vanilla’s gaze lifting again. “I should have invited you to the markets.”Hah! A swell of triumph rises up in Shadow Milk’s chest; he grins ear to ear. “Aw, Nilly! I knew you’d come around. And here you were kicking up such a fuss over a few little-”“No,” Pure Vanilla corrects, a hint of sharpness creeping back into his tone. “That is not what I mean. We will get to that later.”Ugh, there’s that later again.“What I mean,” Pure Vanilla continues, “is that I should have considered you more when making my plans for the day, and how you might perceive being excluded.”“What?” Shadow Milk drawls, flipping over in the air. “Gonna give me some sob story now? Don’t pretend you wanted me here; lies aren’t fun when they’re that obvious.”“I didn’t want you here,” Pure Vanilla replies bluntly.Shadow Milk’s eyes narrow again; Pure Vanilla merely sighs in response.“I needed a day amongst the citizens. I’ve been neglecting them during our transitory period, and with you around…” Another sigh, longer and tinged with a hint of a smile. “You…”“I?” Shadow Milk perks a brow. “I what? Go on. I’m radiant, dazzling, I’d upstage you at every turn?”“In a way,” Pure Vanilla hums. “You… hm.” Visible hesitation. “You… command a lot of my attention. If you had come, I knew my focus would be almost solely on you. I’d be thinking about your comfort, your interactions with the citizens instead of the needs and wants I’d come to address in the first place.”Shadow Milk’s grip on his cane tightens. “If I didn’t know you knew better,” he say, voice pitching low with dangerous intent, “I’d almost think you were calling me needy.”Pure Vanilla tilts his head, visibly considering. “Let’s call you… captivating.”“Hm.” Shadow Milk averts his gaze, fighting the immediate urge to preen. “You’re not wrong.”“That being said,” Pure Vanilla continues, “I did not consider your feelings properly. I have been trying to make my home pleasing to you by limiting your interactions with other Cookies while you adjusted, and offering games – as you said – as a distraction. A distraction I’d hoped you’d enjoy, but a distraction nonetheless.” A pause. “I did not trust you to tell me what you needed, so I acted on my own presumptions.”“Well,” Shadow Milk drawls. “You know what they say about assuming.”“Indeed.” Another pause. “You were forcibly isolated from other Cookies, from the entire world for a very long time. I should have given that more thought before dismissing my staff and excluding you from that choice.”Shadow Milk’s lip curls in a sneer, dark and ugly. “My, my, my! How so very kind of you to be considerate of my precious, fragile feelings.” He flicks his cane; the air around them instantly darkens, clouding out the slim rays of sun overhead.Pure Vanilla’s gaze follows the movement. “You seem to do this a lot when you’re upset.”“Eyes on me!” Shadow Milk snaps; Pure Vanilla’s placid stare obediently slides back.“I,” Shadow Milk hisses, looming close, “do not need other Cookies. I do not need your pity, or oh-so noble compassion, or any other revoltingly self-indulgent tripe you come up with in that empty little head of yours. I am <PRESIDIO_ANONYMIZED_PERSON>, and anything I want, I will take for myself. Whether you or anybody else in my way likes it or not.”“I do not pity you.”The reply is firm; there is no warmth, no waver in it as Pure Vanilla leans forward, narrowing the space between them. “You have made your choices,” he continues. “You have hurt many, many Cookies. You have hurt my people, my friends, and most of all, you have hurt me. Of all the things I feel for you, pity is not one of them.”Shadow Milk’s sneer deepens; something unnamable twists in his chest.“On that topic,” Pure Vanilla is rising to his feet, taking hold of his staff as he straightens his back. “I should make one other thing clear as well.”“Oh?” Shadow Milk queries, voice sickeningly sweet. “Whatever could it be?”“You do not serve me, and I do not serve you. So, I will rectify my earlier commands concerning games and rules and say this solely as a warning.” Pure Vanilla closes his eyes briefly, touching the Soul Jam on his chest. “If you bring harm to the Cookies of this kingdom, or any I call friend, I will fight you. I have no desire to use my powers in this way, nor do I desire to strike you down. But I will not turn a blind eye, nor hold back if this is the path you choose to take.”Shadow Milk’s own Soul Jam pulses, a chilling numbness that quickly fades. “Hah!” he laughs, ignoring the sensation as his arms fold across his chest. “Already forgetting things in your old age? If I crumble, you crumble. Any pain you inflict on me, you’re getting riiiight back.”“I have always been willing to lay down my life for my people.” Pure Vanilla’s gaze is steady, his tone absolute. “This, too, has not changed. I will not allow my people to suffer to spare myself, and I will not stand idly by if you force my hand.”Tension visibly builds around them; Shadow Milk’s darkness deepens, creeping closer along the cobblestones while light glimmers dangerously within Pure Vanilla’s staff.It’d be easy. It’d be so, so easy to strike, to lash out and carve through this foolish, insignificant gnat’s dough. To teach him, here and now, who holds the real power in their Jam, to show him just what happens to those who try and challenge Shadow Milk Cookie in a true fight to the end.It would be easy.Would it be worth it?“Keeping all this in mind,” Pure Vanilla continues, “I would like to repeat myself. I enjoy your company. I like spending my days with you. If you are willing to permit me, I would like to remain at your side. I think, in time, I can make you happy here.”Shadow Milk’s darkness falters, ever so slightly; he quickly recomposes himself, scoffing as he tilts his head. “What, seriously? You’re still deluding yourself with that?”“It is no delusion,” Pure Vanilla counters easily. “As taxing as it can be, I do find your presence enjoyable.”“Not just delusional, but as blind to fate as those little milk-spots you call eyes.” Shadow Milk floats higher, tightening his grip on his folded arms. “There’s no happy end to this weird fantasy of me you’ve concocted. You want the Beast of Deceit to retract his claws? You think you’re going to tame me into some milquetoast house pet that sings happy little songs and frolics through the fields with you?”Pure Vanilla has the gall to smile. “Not at all. I can hardly imagine a worse fate.”Shadow Milk spreads his arms wide with disbelief. “Then what? What could possibly be your solution to what I am? Cause buddy, the way I see it, the only way our story ends is in a pile of crumbs.”“I don’t know.”Shadow Milk just stares.“I don’t have a solution.” Pure Vanilla fiddles with the ribbon on his staff. “I think, if there is one, you’ll be the one to find it.”A scoff; Shadow Milk rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “You really are an old fool.”“Perhaps. But,” Pure Vanilla continues, “for all your faults, a lack of cleverness hardly one of them. So I have every confidence that you’ll be able to figure it out.”Shadow Milk’s eyes narrow. “What faults?”Pure Vanilla hums non-committedly; he picks up his knitting and pockets it, before turning towards the back of the rightmost building and motioning at it with his staff. “This is the Crown’s Nest Inn; we’re in their back courtyard now, though it may not look like it. We haven’t had a chance to renovate this part of the kingdom for some time, I’m afraid.” Pure Vanilla pauses, as if waiting for a reply Shadow Milk does not give. “The entrance is on the opposite side of this wall. You are free to join me within, once you’ve made up your mind.”“Made up my mind?” Shadow Milk repeats incredulously.“About coming or going, staying or leaving. As I said, I’ll respect your choice.” Pure Vanilla is already shuffling off, the tap of his staff echoing on the stones. “Though,” he calls back, “I have a gift for you, if you do come.”Shadow Milk scoffs again, re-folding his arms across his chest. “Dollface, I just told you,” he remarks loudly, voice carrying across the courtyard. “Anything I want, I can just take for myself!”“Perhaps.” Pure Vanilla is glancing back, a soft smile on his lips. “But isn’t it nice to be given it freely?”And then he is gone, slipping down the alley before Shadow Milk has the chance to muster a reply.
  Coming or going, staying or leaving?

  I have every confidence that you’ll be able to figure it out.'
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
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