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Assistant: Title: Jambound
        Author: Anonymous undefined 
        Chapter: 13/32 
        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 13
    

    


  

  
  
    
    Shadow Milk Cookie has never been one to keep to a schedule.He had, in the past, had some sort of outline for his days, but that notion had been long discarded the moment he’d cast off his wretched former self. Ever since he’s enjoyed his freedom to the fullest, his ability to choose capriciously when and where he wants to be – utter contentment in drifting along his own whims without a single responsibility weighing him down. But now his days feel so busy; it’s unintentional, nothing he’s written out in stone – yet it feels suddenly as if he has a sort of inner timetable he’s suddenly found himself working off of.Once he wakes half-past noon, of course.After rising, it’s much of the same – a brisk yawn, a vigorous stretch and some form of breakfast snatched from the kitchens. Once he’s eaten, once he’s terrorized whatever dreary little Cookie gapes at him for too long in the halls, Shadow Milk finds himself again and again drifting through the corridors in idle pursuit of the same all-too familiar prey.He has found, to his delight, that he quite likes sitting in on Pure Vanilla’s meetings.The draw is certainly aided by the lush warmth of Pure Vanilla’s cloak, a perfect napping spot to while away the hours when he so chooses. Yet much of his time is spent wide awake, perched in the shadows of Pure Vanilla’s shoulder as he listens to other Cookies barter back and forth about nearly every matter under the sun. Trade agreements, royal annulments, dangerous rumors of insidious cults rising at the border – every little tidbit is traded across magnificent tables, all while Pure Vanilla sits silently at the head.It's interesting, more so than Shadow Milk had given it credit for. His boundless knowledge, unparalleled by any other Cookie, is still limited in all that has passed since his imprisonment. Pure Vanilla had filled in some gaps during the course of their games, but there was still much Shadow Milk is wholly unfamiliar with. Even if the other Cookies are rather dull, the information Shadow Milk soaks up like a sponge is not.Which is not to say there aren’t Cookies that are a little too dull.Pure Vanilla had, with no small amount of amusement, privately dubbed Shadow Milk a ‘timer’ of sorts – one that Shadow Milk is all too delighted to keep the dignitaries on edge with. While the agony of his imprisonment had certainly sanded down Shadow Milk’s patience, he is not unreasonable. There is a level of patience, a modicum of allowance he gives when perched in the darkness upon Pure Vanilla’s shoulder, watching mild arguments slowly twist into open bickering.Shadow Milk doesn’t mind that part. Enjoys it, really. Seeing pristine, reserved delegates descend into scowls and sneers is the best part of the game.But there is, still, a timer.It’s a bit fickle, wholly dependent on Shadow Milk’s mood and the subject matter being discussed. Sometimes he’ll let certain, extra-charming Cookies stretch on just a tad bit longer, sometimes Pure Vanilla’s own meticulous input will stay Shadow Milk’s hand for another hour or so. But, eventually, his meter of tolerance will hit zero.After that, there’s a number of things that can happen.Sometimes Shadow Milk will shudder the room with a powerful quake; sometimes he chokes the room in instant darkness before letting light slowly fade back into place. He’s toyed with gravity, ominous cackles, even the shadow of a giant beast falling across the windows before abruptly disappearing. All effective, all immediate in their reaction – and always followed up by the same, placid response from Pure Vanilla.“My apologies.” A gentle smile, a hand pressed to his chest. “It seems my guest is growing a bit restless. Please, continue.”Despite Pure Vanilla’s calm assurances, the meetings are always swiftly concluded after that. Bitter arguments dissolve into hasty promises; demeaning sneers morph into uneasy smiles. It delights Shadow Milk to no end how quickly politicians will put aside their differences with a simple flash of his fangs. The uncertainty that laces their nervous glances makes it all the sweeter; they know he is watching, but never the where, never the how.Exactly how Shadow Milk likes it.“You know,” Pure Vanilla remarks one night, knitting away in his chair, “you’d make a good politician.”“I was a good politician.” Shadow Milk’s lounging in mid-air, hands behind his head as he gazes out the bedroom window. “Wasn’t worth it, believe me.”“Really?” Pure Vanilla plucks on a loose strand. “You seem to enjoy sitting in on my meetings.”“You seem to enjoy having me there.”Pure Vanilla glances up, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You do keep things brisk.”“See?” Shadow Milk flips over in the air, propping his cheeks up with his hands. “And aren’t you ever so grateful? Hasn’t been a five hour snoozefest with me around.”“That’s true,” Pure Vanilla hums. “Though, you’re certainly giving the delegates several new gray hairs. And I don’t think you let that dairy farm dispute go on long enough.”Shadow Milk flicks his hand dismissively. “If a tiny little earthquake is enough to get them to stop squabbling in five minutes flat, it was never that important to begin with.”Pure Vanilla perks a disbelieving brow, eyes still on his stitchwork. “You were bored.”Shadow Milk grins back. “I was bored.”“You don’t need to stay if it irks you.” Pure Vanilla threads a new line through his needle. “While I do appreciate the company, I have withstood far worse meetings for far longer.”“You’re too lenient.” Shadow Milk floats down to eye level, leaning in to inspect Pure Vanilla’s handiwork. It’s a simple garter stitch, a flowing pattern of golds and whites that blends pleasantly together. “They’ll keep you there for hours if you let them – and you will.”“Perhaps.” Pure Vanilla sets the knitting down in his lap, eyes lidded but visibly amused. “Would that be so terrible?”“Obviously.” Shadow Milk folds his arms across his chest. “You’re already so terribly dull as it is. If I leave you to simply rot away in that chair, you’ll turn into little more than a blank-eyed drone like the rest of them. Honestly, I’m doing you a favor.”“Dull, hm?” Pure Vanilla’s lips twitch with a smile. “Sounds like I’m disappointing you.”Shadow Milk tuts disapprovingly. “Of course you are. You’ve got the most interesting Cookie in the world standing before you, and yet you’ve spent the last thirty minutes knitting.”“I like knitting,” Pure Vanilla replies mildly.“Dull,” Shadow Milk repeats, heaving a dramatic sigh. “Honestly. Why do I even bother?”Pure Vanilla gives him a considering look, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “I wonder,” he hums, “if there was ever a moment where I couldn’t stop what I was doing to pay attention to your every whim – would my kingdom burn?”“In an instant,” Shadow Milk replies, fluttering his lashes. “Care to test it?”Pure Vanilla simply chuckles. “Perish the thought.” A nod of his head towards the door. “Shall we head downstairs, then?”It’s become a bit of an unspoken ritual between them; after the sun has set and the staff has retired, Pure Vanilla will sneak them down to the kitchens for an evening meal. It’s usually simple things, nothing that requires too much preparation on their behalf. Some leftover croissants from the morning bruncheon, a few bowlfuls of Jelly Stew warmed on the stove all make suitable enough dishes, even if they are nothing spectacular. Anything that requires too much effort is out – and for good reason.Pure Vanilla is a remarkably poor cook, as Shadow Milk has had the displeasure of finding out.“Salt and sugar look exactly the same,” Pure Vanilla had once mumbled through a mouthful of pizza. “It’s not my fault.”“You burned a bowl of frozen fruit,” Shadow Milk had retorted right back. “Your eyesight has nothing to do with it.”Even if the meals are fairly meager, they’re filling nonetheless; more importantly, the quiet of the kitchens opens up a path to new conversations that spill long into the night. Although Pure Vanilla’s evening strolls rarely stray far from the gardens and sheep pastures, the banality of his choice in locations matters less and less to Shadow Milk the longer their talks go on. The meetings have opened up a whole new avenue of questioning for him, tantalizing scraps of current events that Shadow Milk eagerly pokes and prods Pure Vanilla on for more details.Other Cookies may be tedious at best, but their ever-evolving drama is not.Aside from soaking in the latest gossip, their discussions will often meander far beyond the simple rumors Pure Vanilla is all too quick to dismiss. Longer talks are held under the stars, strolling through the pastures or down the royal garden’s many winding pathways. Topics flit by as capriciously as Shadow Milk’s moods; some nights are spent dissecting the current political climate between neighboring kingdoms, and some become more of a scholarly exchange on local legends and myths. Shadow Milk’s vast repertoire of knowledge had made most of his previous back-and-forths with other Cookies devolve into little more than a lecture – yet Pure Vanilla’s grasp of the new, the now-unknown keeps Shadow Milk delightedly on his toes.His favorite avenue of discussion, however, lies squarely in philosophy.“Lies are the foundation of survival in nature.”There’s never any preamble needed; Shadow Milk can simply select any topic, present his view, and Pure Vanilla will respond in kind. Tonight finds them lounging in the greenhouse gazebo; Shadow Milk perching atop a fencepost with his legs daintily crossed, and Pure Vanilla bent low as he tends to the flowers. The moonlight shining through the glass panes above creates a dazzling, gentle glow that illuminates the room in full – it’d be an altogether pleasant place if the air didn’t reek so detestably of lilies.“Interesting,” Pure Vanilla hums back, tipping his water can over the nearest flowerbed. “Examples?”“Take your precious plants.” Shadow Milk waves a lazy hand over the garden. “Orchids, for example, are notorious for being deceptive pollinators. They have evolved specifically to disguise themselves to lure insects through mimicry and deceit.”“Pollination is often beneficial to both parties.” Pure Vanilla straightens up, glancing over. “Many flowers spread far and wide through the open trade of nectar. Some plants prospering through trickery does not negate the success of others through honesty.”“And yet,” Shadow Milk points out, tilting his head with a grin, “it is the liars that spread the farthest! Of course, nature’s lovely deceit extends far beyond your silly weeds. Tell me - how long will a fox survive the winter if he does not turn his coat to white and hide amongst the snowfall? How many species of butterflies would have been gobbled up off the face of Earthbread had they not their dashing, distracting eyespots to flash at would-be predators? To be small, weak, and honest is to be erased.”Pure Vanilla sets his watering can down on the nearby ledge before turning back to Shadow Milk in full, hands folding primly in front of him. “There is merit in that argument,” he concedes, a small smile on his lips. “But just as there is deceit, there is truth engrained in survival as well.”Shadow Milk perks a brow. “Examples?”“My birds,” Pure Vanilla replies easily. “A flock works together through song and call, informing their brethren of the same dangers you speak of. Honest communication keeps their kin alive, allowing them to remain safer and stronger in larger numbers together.”“Convenience,” Shadow Milk dismisses, “if they were alone, they would lie and steal to scrape out their puny little existence like all the others.”“But they aren’t alone,” Pure Vanilla counters just as easily. “And that is because they trust one another. Trust cannot be gained through deceit.”Shadow Milk scoffs. “Of course it can.”“Not forever.” Pure Vanilla’s smile deepens. “An honest answer is far more compelling than a sweet lie, my friend.”“Ah!” Shadow Milk pushes himself off the fence post, gliding up through the air. “How naïve! Such a disappointing answer, and from a shepherd of all things!”Pure Vanilla tilts his head, expression amused even as Shadow Milk grins confidentially down at him. “You’ve taken offense with my sheep now?”“I always have. I told you, they smell like dung.” Shadow Milk places one hand on his hip, pointing his cane at Pure Vanilla with the other. “But! I am speaking, naturally, of that mangy little mutt you keep in the pasture.”“Pavlova?” Pure Vanilla replies, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “I would hardly call a purebred Cream Wolf a mangy mutt.”“But that’s what she is!” Shadow Milk grins ear to ear. “Well, I suppose mangy is a bit subjective. But I am speaking, my dear Nilly, of her birthright as a wolf. And, pray tell, what do you have her doing?”“Guarding the livestock.” Pure Vanilla sweeps his gaze over Shadow Milk, openly considering. “As she has been trained to do.”“Pheh! And isn’t domestication the prettiest lie ever told.” Shadow Milk crosses his legs in mid-air, propping up his chin with both hands. “She’s a wolf! Meant to hunt and devour, to run free through open fields! And instead you have her penned, doting on the very beasts she’s meant to prey upon.”“Pavlova is extremely clever,” Pure Vanilla replies easily. “I have seen her open the gate with her nose myself. Should she wish to leave, nothing bars her way.”Shadow Milk leans in closer, grin widening. “Exactly! And why doesn’t she, you ask?”“I didn’t-”“Because,” Shadow Milk pronounces, sweeping his cane up in a grand twirl. “She is lying to herself! In exchange for her servitude, she betrays all that she is! Why scrap out your true existence in the woods when you can lay on your back in the fields and have every meal hand-delivered by a Cookie instead?” A confident c@ck of his head, eyes raking over Pure Vanilla’s considering expression. “Hm? Tell me I’m wrong.”Annoyingly, Pure Vanilla’s considering look morphs into a small smile. “You’re only looking at one piece of the picture.”Shadow Milk’s eyes narrow. “Heh?”“You,” Pure Vanilla replies, eyes glittering in amusement, “only see her for what she was born to be. But why must that be all she is limited to?”“Limited to? She limits herself!” Shadow Milk flicks his cane; above his head, the shadowy figure of a snarling wolf appears before swiftly dissipating. “She has every opportunity, every right to devour those simple-minded sheep you keep. It is in her very nature! Yet you have deceived her into thinking that guarding, not devouring your flock is her natural state. And they believe your sweet little lie too! Don’t think I haven’t seen those rancid beasts cozying up to your mutt. They really think she’s one of them!”“She is.”Shadow Milk’s lips twitch into a scowl. “Lies,” he snaps. “And you don’t even have the good grace to admit them.”“Pavlova is not a sheep.” Pure Vanilla leans over, plucking his staff from against the gazebo wall. “However, she is a part of the flock. She has earned their trust, and mine in turn. The choice to protect them is her own.”“Because you feed her.” Shadow Milk twists in the air as Pure Vanilla carefully lowers himself down the gazebo steps; it’s simple enough to float alongside him, arms folding across Shadow Milk’s chest. “If you didn’t, she wouldn’t stay.”“Perhaps not,” Pure Vanilla muses, staff tapping audibly along the dirt path as he walks. “But, I hardly think the kibble I bring would compare to the taste of a fresh sheep. If Pavlova chose to turn on me while I was back in the castle, little could stop her.”“So you admit it?” Shadow Milk floats closer, leaning in. “You concede that it’s all based in a lie? If all you have to protect your flock from her true nature is hope, I’m sad to say that’s nothing more than a cheap trick of the mind.”Pure Vanilla spares him another amused glance. “You are still not seeing the full picture. You equate my sheep to meat and nothing else.”Shadow Milk rolls his eyes. “And what, pray tell, could they possibly be otherwise?”“Companions.”Shadow Milk abruptly stops in mid-air; Pure Vanilla keeps walking, unflinching in his course.“Companions?” Shadow Milk repeats incredulously. “You must be joking.”“Not at all.” Pure Vanilla glances backwards, making a beckoning motion with his head; unconsciously, Shadow Milk moves to follow. “As you said, you’ve seen the sheep resting beside her. In exchange for her protection, they remain alongside her through thick and thin. They keep her warm through cold nights, and play with her on sunny days. Even if I am not down in the pastures, Pavlova is never alone.”“Ridiculous,” Shadow Milk snaps; he pivots in the air, circling around to hover directly in Pure Vanilla’s path. The other’s footsteps slow to a halt, yet the look he gives Shadow Milk is only one of idle curiosity. “You really think companionship is what makes a beast betray its nature? It’s convenience, nothing more.”“I don’t think she betrays her nature at all.” Pure Vanilla’s meeting Shadow Milk’s disgruntled gaze with a calm smile. “I do not think we are defined by our creators’ intentions. What we chose to be is what we are. There is no greater truth than the acceptance of self.”“Pheh.” Shadow Milk sharply averts his gaze, sneer deepening. “What a thing to hear from my replacement. I wonder what your precious Witches would say. Rejecting your divine purpose, are we? I can tell you how that goes.”Pure Vanilla’s head tilts, gaze softening. “I do not exist to replace you, Shadow Milk Cookie.”“My, my, my,” Shadow Milk hums through gritted teeth. “What pretty lies you tell yourself! Maybe you’ll take on my stewardship of Deceit as well. I’m almost proud.”A sudden touch sends a sharp spike of unease through Shadow Milk’s jam; Pure Vanilla is reaching up, gently taking Shadow Milk’s hand into his own. “If I was baked to replace you,” Pure Vanilla says softly, “then the Witches failed in my creation as well.”Shadow Milk slowly drags his gaze back to the other; he schools his expression into sharp disdain, forbidding the strange twist in his chest from being known. “And why,” he breaths coldly, “is that?”Pure Vanilla’s hand gives a gentle squeeze. “Because,” he replies simply, “I will betray that nature for your companionship every time.”Shadow Milk’s own grip tightens; he can feel his eyes flash, feel something electric and dangerous building inside him. The emotion feels wholly unfamiliar, burning hot in his jam; yet not unpleasant. Not completely.He refuses to lose, however – not to his own twisting emotions, not to the way he’s once again being lowered through the air down to Pure Vanilla’s level. The tender touch at his cheek is the breaking point; Shadow Milk’s eyes snap open to full as his cane drops from his palm.His free hand instantly latches on to Pure Vanilla’s waist; he pulls the other into the air alongside him.“Oh, Pure Vanilla Cookie!” he laughs; his grin is sharp and wicked, eyes gleaming with delight as he twirls the other through the air. Pure Vanilla let out a short gasp of surprise, scrabbling wildly before his arms instinctively lock around Shadow Milk’s neck; the other’s grin just deepens as he swoops them upwards, floating high above the ground. “Who knew!” Shadow Milk crows happily. “Turns out you really are such a charmer when you want to be!”“Shadow-” Pure Vanilla gasps, arms tightening as his gaze drops nervously to the ground. “Oh, goodness- that’s very high-”“Say it again,” Shadow Milk purrs; he leans forward, reveling in the squeak as Pure Vanilla is lowered into a graceful dip. “Tell me again how you’d betray the Witches for me.”“That’s-” Pure Vanilla’s face is flushed, expression flickering somewhere between surprise and exhilaration. “That wasn’t my point, exactly-”“No, no! Don’t ruin it now.” Shadow Milk flips them around, sailing through the air in lazy spirals. “Who knew a silly old fool like you could be so good at sweet talk? I’m swooning here, I am!”Pure Vanilla huffs a breathless laugh; even with his eyes wide and more than a little nervous, there’s a genuine smile on his lips now. “You’re being ridiculous.”“I am besotted,” Shadow Milk croons. “Absolutely smitten.”“And I’m nauseous.” Pure Vanilla gives him a gentle pap on his cheek. “Put me down or I’ll lose my dinner.”Shadow Milk heaves a sigh, long and dramatic. “You’ve ruined it. Every time I start to like you, too.” Still, he obliges, slowly lowering them through the air before setting Pure Vanilla’s feet firmly back on the ground. “Better,” he hums, leaning in close. “Are we satisfied, Your Majesty?”Pure Vanilla blows out a breath, pushing the loose hair from his face. “Hardly,” he huffs, but the smile on his face persists. “Goodness. In a mood tonight, are we?”“Blame yourself,” Shadow Milk replies easily; his hands have not left Pure Vanilla’s hips, and the other’s arms remain loosely encircled around his neck. “Whispering sweet nothings in my ear. You know what heresy does to me, Nilly.”Pure Vanilla laughs, cheeks flushing as he shakes his head. “I meant that I enjoy your companionship. The sacrilege wasn’t the point.”“Oh, but it was the best part.” Shadow Milk presses their foreheads together, eyes glittering with mischief as Pure Vanilla’s own crinkle with mirth. “You should do it more often.”A fond smile as Pure Vanilla shakes his head, the motion gently nuzzling his forehead against Shadow Milk’s own. “You’re ridiculous.”“I’m in a good mood,” Shadow Milk hums back, eyes fluttering half-shut. “Capitalize on it.”Pure Vanilla’s own eyes lid, his smile unfaltering. “Meaning?”Shadow Milk gives the other’s hips a squeeze, pulling Pure Vanilla closer; less than in inch apart, their Soul Jams pulse dangerously, the pull between them taught and tight as Pure Vanilla visibly represses a shudder.“I mean,” Shadow Milk all but purrs, grin sharpening to a wicked point:“Your place, or mine?” -- In all fairness, Shadow Milk hadn’t been thinking about it.Between his new schedule, his nightly strolls, and his insatiable appetite for all the new knowledge swimming about in his head, there hadn’t been much room for anything else. Shadow Milk is, above all else, a trickster – the schemes he lays and the sweet little lies he scatters about the world are rarely things he gives a second thought to unless warranted. There’s far too much to do and see to reflect on past mischief-making for more than a fond remembrance or two.Which is why it is all the more jarring to be jolted awake in bed by the thunderous sound of a horn.The realization is not immediate; Shadow Milk bolts instinctively upright in bed before his mind processes the motion. The echo reverberates through the room, vibrations singing in his jam as Shadow Milk blinks rapidly and tries to refocus on his surroundings. His thoughts muddle and mix, trying to shake off the remaining traces of sleep as he ticks through the situation.The where – Pure Vanilla’s bedroom. Normal, nothing out of the ordinary. The who – he’s alone, or at the very least, there’s no intruders. Pure Vanilla is somehow still asleep next to him, sprawled out haphazardly with mussed-up hair and flecks of drool at the corner of his mouth. Also nothing out of the ordinary. Their connection last night had been good – really good, an exhilarating blur of colors and heat that brings a flush to his cheeks to recall – but beyond stretching for far longer and reaching much more dizzying heights than usual, nothing had seemed amiss about it either.Shadow Milk shakes his head, brushing away the memories as he sharpens his gaze on his surroundings. Right. The noise. A blaring horn. An open window, curtains fluttering on the morning breeze. The source.Shoving the covers aside, Shadow Milk slips out of the bed and rubs at his face; his brief float across the room is interrupted by yet another roar of a horn that makes him clap his hands to his ears and wince openly.Yep. Definitely coming from the window.Once the sound has died down yet again, Shadow Milk irritably shoves his head out the window, squinting in the sunlight. There’s nothing amongst the towers, nothing hovering in the air around him; Shadow Milk’s gaze slowly falls downwards, down to the ground below where-Ah.Shadow Milk’s gaze widens as he takes in the scene below. Standing at the castle gates is an army, a sea of black and white with rows upon rows of soldiers packed in tight formation. The emblem of the Dark Cacao Kingdom flutters along lines of banners raised high; at the head of the pack stands the looming figure of Dark Cacao Cookie himself, flanked on either side by his generals. The Vanillian guards at the gates have their halberds crossed, blocking entry – but even from here Shadow Milk can taste their unease, the tremble in their arms.As Shadow Milk stares blankly downwards, one of the generals seems to spot him – there’s a shout, a point upwards as Dark Cacao Cookie’s gaze follows the motion. Shadow Milk fights down a reflexive recoil as Dark Cacao’s head turns towards him, greatsword lifting into the air with Soul Jam agleam in the morning light.“BEAST OF DECEIT!” Dark Cacao Cookie bellows, his sword pointed directly up at the towers. “YOU HAVE NO CLAIM TO THIS PLACE! COME AND FACE ME IN BATTLE, OR I WILL STRIKE YOU DOWN MYSELF!”Shadow Milk cranes his head, following the direction of Dark Cacao Cookie’s sword – and sees the tip pointing straight at the self-portrait banners Shadow Milk had sprinkled along the towers oh so long ago.Right. He’d been asked to remove those, hadn’t he.A long, aggravated sigh as Shadow Milk pulls back from the window, rubbing vigorously at his face. It’s too early for – this. All of this. As delightful as the scene is, it is also very, very annoying - another blare of the war horn does little to dissuade this assessment.Shadow Milk floats over to the bed; Pure Vanilla is still fully unconscious, slumbering away even with the reverberations rocking the room.Unsurprising. It’s hardly any quieter than his snores.“BEAST OF DECEIT!” is roared once more through the open window. “RELEASE PURE VANILLA COOKIE FROM YOUR GRASP! RETURN MY COMRADE TO ME, AND YOU MAY YET BE SHOWN MERCY!”Shadow Milk pinches his temples, mouthing words unspoken in millennia – for good cause, certainly, but warranted at this time. With a roll of his eyes, Shadow Milk summons his cane into his palm and points it squarely at Pure Vanilla. The other’s body lifts up into the air, sheets slipping off him as Shadow Milk floats him carefully across the room. Another point of his cane and Pure Vanilla’s gliding limply out into the open air; the collective gasps from below signal that, yes, he has been spotted.Another flick of his cane and Pure Vanilla begins to descend; Shadow Milk floats over to the window, peering out to guide the other’s slumbering form down and down as he angles Pure Vanilla’s descent with his cane. The shocked cries from below, perhaps at closer proximity, do seem to finally rouse Pure Vanilla – at least, there’s a sudden twist, a sharp flailing of his body as Pure Vanilla thrashes helplessly in the air with a startled cry.Oh good. He’s awake.Shadow Milk taps his cane once; Pure Vanilla drops from the air, falling three feet to land squarely in Dark Cacao Cookie’s outstretched arms.There’s a loud murmuring from the crowd; Shadow Milk can’t make out the words exchanged, but Pure Vanilla’s face is completely flushed, his hands tugging down on his night robe as he wriggles in Dark Cacao Cookie’s arms. The larger Cookie immediately sets him down, his own expression openly confused as Pure Vanilla immediately turns on his heels and sends a scalding, furious glare straight up at Shadow Milk’s smiling face.“SHADOW MILK COOKIE!” is howled through bright-red cheeks.“Deal with this,” Shadow Milk calls back, before reaching up and shutting the windows with an audible click.'
User: Do they have sex?
User: Do they have sex?
Assistant: