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Assistant: Title: Jambound
        Author: Anonymous undefined 
        Chapter: 24/29 
        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 24
    

    


  

  
  
    
    Nothing feels right anymore.That night, that fateful, wretched night after Pure Vanilla returns from the gardens, when he opens the door to find Shadow Milk curled just where he’d left him – he tries. There’s a gentle hand touching Shadow Milk’s cheek, the same comforting murmurs that have soothed so many times before. Yet none of them settle as they should; each touch and quiet request for his attention grates on Shadow Milk’s dough as he keeps his eyes shut. Despite the panging in his Soul Jam, despite the longing itching in his chest – the dizzying, nauseating dread returns in full force, refusing the gentle warmth at his back.Shadow Milk cannot bear Pure Vanilla’s kindness tonight.When Shadow Milk pulls away, Pure Vanilla does not fight him. He lets Shadow Milk go, stands in silence that feels painful for both of them before murmuring a soft: “Good night.”There is no promise of the morning. Shadow Milk does not blame him.Rest eludes Shadow Milk within his own massacred chambers. His attempts at it are meager at best, eyes refusing to close as he sprawls on his bed and stares emptily at the ceiling above.Why had he even bothered to put the bed up there in the first place? Some ridiculous show of power? Just to be petulant, to be difficult?The swirling mass of blacks does little to set Shadow Milk’s mind at ease – but it does allow him to empty it. He stares blankly up long enough for the half-broken clock to tick the hours away, long enough for the morning sun to peek through the curtains, taunting him with its mere presence.Shadow Milk isn’t meant to be awake in the mornings. He’s meant be to fast asleep, curled up in satin sheets with a steady heartbeat against his cheek. He’s meant to be safe, content, roused only by a gentle kiss to his cheek and a sweetly fond gaze meeting his own.It’s not what he deserves.If there is a conversation they’re meant to be having, Pure Vanilla does not seek him out for it. Shadow Milk continues whiling away the hours in a state of non-existence atop the bed; bit by bit, the shadows cast by the sun’s ray inch across the room in a perfect arch. Shadow Milk’s mind is purposefully blank, tamping down on every stray thought that tries to surface with unnerving ease. He does not rest, he does not eat. He only stares into the abyss of his own making, refusing to acknowledge the chill settling in as evening draws to a close.By the time night has fallen, the ache in Shadow Milk’s chest has persisted for several hours now. He knows, distantly, that this is all in his head. The bond has never punished them for such short-term separation before; it’s barely been twenty-four hours, not even close to the four days he’d gone without before. There is no reason for true pain to dwell inside him. He has not traveled far, and while their last connection had been a mere two days ago, habitual proximity has always left the bond feeling more generous than usual.The pain is here because Shadow Milk is thinking about it, a potent mix of dreading the inevitable while mourning the present.So, Shadow Milk tries not to think about it.There is, sometime after the clock had weakly chimed ten, a gentle knock on Shadow Milk’s door. He doesn’t have to guess who’s on the other side; his Soul Jam thrums with instinctive longing, even as Shadow Milk lays motionless and empty upon the bed. He doesn’t bother turning his head, only licking his lips once before rasping out:“You shouldn’t be here.”Silence, potent and ruinous, stretches across the room. After a moment, there’s a soft, aching call of his name; Shadow Milk’s eyes clench shut.“I can’t do this,” he says hoarsely, “if you keep coming to find me.”A dreadful sort of quiet suspends itself in the air, broken only by the tattered breaths Shadow Milk’s forcing from his chest. Eventually, mercifully, he can hear the sound of footsteps receding back down the hall.Shadow Milk is left alone again. Just as he’d asked.As he needs to be.Time becomes a nebulous concept, oozing like sludge between the thin veil of Shadow Milk’s reluctant consciousness and gentle oblivion. The shadows slide across his room in perfect repetition, a dance of gleaming sunlight and gentled darkness weaving between hours that he does not care to count. He has not slept; he thinks not, anyway. It’s difficult to tell where his mind ends and begins, so perfectly, agonizingly blank. So practiced in the art.Pain is Shadow Milk’s constant companion, a drumbeat he can count his shallow breaths to. He wonders, briefly, if this pain is for him alone – if Pure Vanilla shares the ache that feels as if it’s hollowing out Shadow Milk’s soul itself. It feels selfish either way; to wish for the longing to be mutual is nothing less than what he’d expect from himself, yet the desire for it to remain with Shadow Milk alone feels so pathetically in-line with this farce of a new life he’s crafted around himself.It aches. It hurts. There are no knocks on his door, no whispers beneath the frame pleading for his attention. However long they are meant to go on, Shadow Milk does not know. He cannot ask, not now. If there is to be a turning point, a moment to drag himself to White Lily Cookie’s mercy - the news will have to be delivered by another.Pure Vanilla Cookie cannot enter this room. Shadow Milk has never been more certain of anything in his life.As time crawls ever forward, the air in the castle becomes – stifling. Even with Shadow Milk’s every thought focused on composure, the Soul Jam burning at his chest is unrelenting in its desires. Even through thick stone walls, it feels as if Shadow Milk can sense Pure Vanilla’s movements – like the beat of the other’s Soul Jam echoes with every step he takes in his tower high above. Each hour turned day that flickers by only tightens the hazy, delusional certainty that he can feel every shaky breath of Pure Vanilla Cookie’s as his own.Even floors apart, it’s too close. They’re being pulled, tugged along by silver threads that tremble with want.Shadow Milk leaves again.It’s a decision made with minimal thought, a backwards drop into his Other-Realm that feels almost familiar by now. He does not plummet this time, does not encase himself in ice to numb away his self – he can’t risk it. Even in this muddled half-state of being, the remembrance of the choker persists as an irritable reminder of his own folly.Why had he done that? The scissors had been perfectly acceptable. He’d distributed them to dozens of followers before.
  You like staking your claim on me, don’t you?
Wretched. Pathetic. So insecure, even with a puppet dancing along his own strings.The emptiness of the Other-Realm is a danger, an opportunity for more shades of the past to arise and sink their claws into Shadow Milk’s half-shattered mind. So he does not remain, continues moving forward, until the pocket of space he’s looking for slides into view.When Shadow Milk slips through the curtain into his realm, it does not take more than a moment before a shout of delight echoes through his haze.“Master Shadow Milk Cookie!”All around him are glimmering towers bearing intricate designs of his own making, pristine and beautiful as they ascend heavenward. The sky – if one could call it that – is filled with blinking eyes and papier-mâché stars that twinkle in greeting. Long, twisting stairs and slides lead around impossible bends and loop back around in perfect synchronicity; it is from one of these slides that Shadow Milk vacantly registers a small form hurtling straight at him.The collision Candy Apple Cookie makes with his stomach draws a sizeable grunt.Had she always been this strong?Candy Apple Cookie clings to Shadow Milk’s middle, babbling excitedly with words that don’t really register in his ears. Her eyes are lit up with unmistakable joy; when he absently pats her head, her already overjoyed expression twists into something bordering on hysteria. She jumps up and down, small wings flapping behind her as Shadow Milk trails forward – she remains clung to him, being absently tugged along behind him as he flies.Black Sapphire Cookie joins them shortly, descending from a paper moon with a bow and happy remark of greeting. While Candy Apple Cookie seems no less enthused by Shadow Milk’s presence than ever, Shadow Milk can distantly pick out a flicker of concern crossing Black Sapphire’s face.He floats – no. He’s led to a room, filled with couches and beanbags and what looks to be an ornamental stage in the middle. Black Sapphire Cookie guides him down onto the nearest couch; as Shadow Milk collapses limply into it, he hazily picks out the feeling of Candy Apple’s arms being forcibly pried off him, as well as what sounds like an escalating argument between them.Typical. Siblings to the last.The pair of them are a pleasant enough distraction, at least. Black Sapphire Cookie brings them tea that smells of jasmine and lavender; Shadow Milk sips at it in slow intervals, savoring the pretend warmth that dissipates the moment is slides down his throat. The pair of them are talking to him – at him, really, as he nods and watches them gesture and motion to their surroundings and themselves. While little is forthcoming from Shadow Milk himself, it doesn’t seem to slow down their interest in him. If anything, it seems to harden their resolve.Black Sapphire Cookie floats backwards to take center-stage, his treasured microphone in hand as he recites the latest flavors of gossip he’s drummed up to spread. Explanations of carefully-woven plots are sung with that smooth, soothing voice of his, a voice that delivers the sweetest of lies with practiced ease. Even through his fog, Shadow Milk summons enough energy to smile whenever he’s looked to for input.Candy Apple Cookie, when she is routinely prevented from clinging back onto him, presents Shadow Milk with an array of disguises she’s been practicing. After shoving Black Sapphire off the stage, she strikes a pose in the spotlight; she flits between form after form in a dazzling display of color. A Scovillian warrior, a Parfaedian scholar, even an unsettlingly chipper Hollyberrian princess all beam back at Shadow Milk in open, desperate search of praise.Shadow Milk’s tongue feels too heavy to lift, but he offers her the same smiles he’d given before – and this seems more than enough to please her with a series of delighted shrieks.As Shadow Milk slumps heavily into the couch cushions, the pair of them continue to perform for him, taking on new appearances and summoning illusions around them to act out whatever seems to come to mind. A daring rescue of a lying maiden, a vicious battle against a cackling manticore – even a love story with a doll that looks suspiciously like himself until Black Sapphire abruptly grabs and hurls it offstage.Candy Apple Cookie’s scream-filled lunge at him is perhaps an overreaction, but it is marginally entertaining to see them scuffle and shout as Shadow Milk sips at his tea.It’s hard to place why, but Shadow Milk does feel – better. Perhaps it’s the comfort of his own space shielding him, but Candy Apple and Black Sapphire’s enthusiasm for his arrival truly feels as if it’s dulled the edges of his stupor. Shadow Milk’s mind does not have to be so painfully empty when it’s distracted listening to Black Sapphire recount a particularly vicious rumor he’d spread amongst a general’s soldiers, or watching Candy Apple Cookie act out a trick she’d played on a hapless merchant.He still aches. He still hurts, but he smiles for them and watches in silence as they do their best under his vacant gaze.Shadow Milk spends another three days among them – he thinks, at least. Time is rather immeasurable here. He does his best to remain presentable, to shield them from the full recesses of the fatigue and pain eating away at him. He cannot offer much to their attention, but they remain with him throughout his silence regardless. They’ve remained with him since the beginning, haven’t they?He’d never really considered that before.Still, Shadow Milk cannot stay here forever. The ache within him is reaching nauseating heights – if he remains with them much longer, the loss of control will be undignified at best and dangerous at worst. There’s something ugly and dark building in his Soul Jam, something punishing and angry that lurks at its corners; angry at him, no doubt, but potent nonetheless.When Shadow Milk says his farewells, they feel reluctant; when he promises to visit again through a leaden tongue, they dismiss it with pleased smiles and a swear of fealty to come whenever he wishes.It feels strange to say goodbye. He’s never done it before, simply come and gone without a thought spared.Perhaps it’s the ache making him sentimental, but Shadow Milk feels they deserve more than that now.When Shadow Milk finally glides towards the borders of his Other-Realm, he isn’t thinking. The ache in his chest has dulled his already-muddled mind further; there’s little meaning or reason to each sluggish movement he makes, as if he is left with instinct alone. When Shadow Milk haphazardly drags his hand across the veil to tear open a portal, it’s with no thought, no purpose behind it.Perhaps that is why it is so wholly unsurprising that, upon gliding through into the crisp night air, he finds himself floating just outside Pure Vanilla’s balcony.Instinct leads him here, yet again. Yet what’s far, far more dangerous, what makes Shadow Milk’s tired eyes shoot open to wakefulness is the small form hunched over the balcony railing.Pure Vanilla Cookie.Shadow Milk sucks in a sharp breath.Pure Vanilla’s head snaps up in an instant, glassy eyes going wide as Shadow Milk stares wordlessly back at him. Pure Vanilla looks awful – his hair is wild and unbrushed, his usual attire discarded for nightclothes that look rumpled and frayed. There’s heavy bruising beneath his eyes; even his trademark staff is nowhere to be found, no doubt discarded somewhere in the bedroom. His chest heaves with harsh, stuttered breaths – his eyes do not leave Shadow Milk’s for a moment, both unable to tear their gazes away from the other.Dangerous. This is dangerous – they’re close, far too close. Warning bells are ringing in Shadow Milk’s mind, urging him back even as his Soul Jam resonates violently, brimming with desperate greed. Shadow Milk’s arms lift, then sharply recoil; he pulls back in the air, even as his arms extend yet again in hazy, mind-numbing want.He can’t be here. He needs to leave. He has to, has to, has to-Pure Vanilla’s palms plant on the railing; his arms tremble as he heaves himself up, teetering dangerously on the edge with shaky breaths. Shadow Milk’s instinct takes over again as he lunges forward, the threat of Pure Vanilla’s imminent plummet overriding all else –A step forward; Shadow Milk’s heart drops in his chest.Yet Pure Vanilla does not fall.On shaky limbs he floats – still wobbling slightly, yet floating forward on what seems to be his own, unbidden instinct. Pure Vanilla glides up to Shadow Milk with a desperate, vacant expression; his arms extend and Shadow Milk mindlessly grasps Pure Vanilla’s hands in his own.Dangerous. The Soul Jam’s pulse thrums in Shadow Milk’s ears, drowning out his own racing heartbeat with deafening thunder. The warmth of Pure Vanilla’s touch floods through Shadow Milk’s dough as if he’d been licked by flames, consuming all other senses with want, want, want.He can’t be here.Pure Vanilla leans forward; Shadow Milk, against every screaming voice in his head, pulls back. Their hands are still grasping tightly onto the other; each step forward Pure Vanilla takes, Shadow Milk takes another back.They’re perfectly suspended in mid-air, framed by the crescent moon twinkling against a backdrop of stars. Pure Vanilla’s looking at Shadow Milk with such open fondness, an idle smile on his lips as he sighs sweetly into the night air. He looks completely and utterly –Mesmerized.Shadow Milk feels a pinch of something sharp and unpleasant in his dough.The sensation is enough to wake him, briefly, enough for Shadow Milk to muster the will to croak out:“I need to leave.”Pure Vanilla’s grasp on him tightens, expression flickering before resuming its placid smile. “Take me with you,” he murmurs back.Shadow Milk sharply shakes his head, even as his core pulses with longing, even as acceptance threatens to spill from his tongue.“Please?” Honey-sweet and hopelessly fond; Pure Vanilla’s leaning in again, brushing dangerously close before Shadow Milk forces him back.“We have-” The words are ripped from an unwilling throat. “We have to… break the bond.”“Why?”Why? The question dances dizzyingly in Shadow Milk’s mind – why is he doing this? Pure Vanilla is right here, loving and willing. Ready to accept him, arms open wide. There is no refusal on his face, nothing but adoration and that faint, hazy smile.“Take me with you,” Pure Vanilla insists, drawing closer. “Anywhere. I want to be with you.”“No,” Shadow Milk croaks out weakly, pathetic and hoarse. “You have to stay. We have to break this. You wanted this.”“I want you.” Pure Vanilla’s hand touches his cheek, and Shadow Milk cannot bear to pull away. "I don’t need anything else.”The words are soft, sweet, comforting –And wrong.Realization sends a jolt of discomfort through Shadow Milk’s core; he turns his head away, breaking the touch with clenched teeth. When Shadow Milk reopens his eyes, when he can bring himself to look upon Pure Vanilla’s face again, he sees a glassy expression looking back – smile unbroken, no clear thought behind hazy eyes.
  You’re not real.
The moon gleams gently behind them; Shadow Milk finds his terrified gaze drifting to her, feeling her gaze upon them. She is silent, watching them – yet there is no amusement in her gaze. She shines so brilliantly, so cold yet comforting - and Shadow Milk cannot help but feel steadied at the sight.When Shadow Milk looks back to Pure Vanilla, he finds himself swallowing, heart thudding in his chest. “If,” he begins slowly, carefully. “If I – took you away from here. Forever. What would you say?”Pure Vanilla gazes up at him so adoringly, hands squeezing gently in Shadow Milk’s grasp. “As long as we’re together.”A churning wave of nausea follows as Shadow Milk’s eyes flutter shut. The truth is held in his hands, and he cannot bear to look upon it.This isn’t Pure Vanilla Cookie.Shadow Milk glides forward, pushing past Pure Vanilla Cookie with a gentle brush; the other eagerly follows, letting Shadow Milk slowly drag him back down to the balcony. Their hands unclasp as Shadow Milk lowers Pure Vanilla back to the ground; there’s a look of confusion, a small frown that flickers with uncertainty.“Shadow Milk Cookie?”“You need to rest.” Shadow Milk’s voice sounds strange in his ears. “Go back to bed.”Pure Vanilla’s gaze is hopeless, pleading. “Not without you.”“I’ll…” Shadow Milk licks his lips, looking anywhere but the other. “I’ll come in the morning. But only if you rest.”“Promise?”A wretched plea.“Yes,” Shadow Milk lies, forcing a warped smile in reply. “I promise.”Pure Vanilla still seems unwilling – to say nothing of the Soul Jams, scorching in their defiance as Shadow Milk floats upwards, narrowly avoiding Pure Vanilla’s sudden reach of longing. The other’s hazy gaze searches desperately; he won’t go back inside, feet frozen to the floor as Shadow Milk looks upon him.“I…” Shadow Milk tries. “I’ll come. I’ll take you away. Far away. No one will find us, and we’ll be together. But only if you rest tonight. Okay?”A blink, before Pure Vanilla’s distant, placid smile slowly slips back into place. “Okay.”Sweet lies. A soothing lullaby that Pure Vanilla’s eyes lid happily to.Shadow Milk motions to the balcony doors. “Go back inside. Now.”His order is obeyed without question; Pure Vanilla turns, only sparing a momentary smile back to him before slipping inside and closing the doors behind him.The lock clicks into place as Shadow Milk’s eyes slip shut again. The cold night air caresses his dough, stiffening his limbs as Shadow Milk lets out a long, shuddering exhale. Want, need and revulsion swirl inside him in an intoxicating blend – yet he still has enough of his self remaining to make one final decision.Shadow Milk heads to the garden.White Lily Cookie’s apparition does not take long to find; glowing so brilliantly in the darkness, her white light is a beacon drawing Shadow Milk closer with every breath. When he floats down before her, her eyes are shut, expression peaceful as she rests comfortably atop a nearby bench.Half-through the bench, anyway.Shadow Milk reaches down, arms still trembling, to gently tap at the moonstone embedded in her chest.In an instant White Lily Cookie’s eyes snap open; Shadow Milk recoils, giving her space as quickly as he can as she lifts her gaze to him. There is a fleeting moment of recognition – White Lily Cookie pushes herself to her feet, hands tight around her staff.Her expressions remain unreadable to him. He doesn’t understand her – he isn’t meant to.Before she can speak, Shadow Milk croaks out:“Go to him.”White Lily Cookie’s eyes widen slightly; the tension in her shoulders does not slacken, but there’s something more hesitant in her gaze than before. She says nothing for a moment, looking Shadow Milk over before quietly replying:“Why?”Why. Every time it’s asked, Shadow Milk has never had an answer.He has one now.“We need to stay apart.” Shadow Milk’s words are sluggish and pained – but his voice remains firm. “He’s – not himself. You need to look after him.”White Lily Cookie watches him closely. He expects her to be reserved, on-guard – and Shadow Milk would not blame her. It is only the fever of desperation that has brought him here, half-mad in his own delusions. He trembles in the air before her, arms coming up to unconsciously grasp at himself.Instead, her expression softens into something resembling concern. For Pure Vanilla himself, surely – yet her oddly gentle gaze rests on Shadow Milk alone.“He…” White Lily Cookie’s eyes lower to the floor. “He asked to do this alone. Another week, and-”“He can’t.” Shadow Milk shakes his head sharply. “We can’t. Go to the castle. Keep us apart.” Then, through gritted teeth:“Please.”White Lily Cookie’s gaze lifts once more; she studies him, sorrowful eyes tracing over him bit by bit. Finally, slowly, her head bows in a nod.“I will go to him.”The admission is all Shadow Milk needs. Before the shade can so much as blink, he is gone, racing through the sky to put as much distance between her and him as he can.The moon lights his path as he flies over the treetops, leading Shadow Milk up and away from the castle, the gardens, his all-consuming desires and weakness.For once, he’s glad of her company. -- The next two days are remarkably lucid.Despite the constant ache, now-near burning sensation that makes his perpetually-empty stomach roll with nausea – Shadow Milk feels more himself than he’s been in days. There’s a sharpness, a new clarity that, despite how jelly-soft his dough feels, is remarkably firm in its resolve. Even as Shadow Milk slumps haphazardly along the shadows, his newfound stubbornness keeps him going as he wields his unhappiness like a blade to his own throat.He does not check on Pure Vanilla. He trusts – how laughable – White Lily Cookie to tend to her friend, at the very least to ward Pure Vanilla from chasing after Shadow Milk in his stupor. To aid in her endeavors, Shadow Milk does not return to the castle – yet neither does he stray overly far.He goes to Black Raisin Cookie.Shadow Milk does not intrude on her home, preferring to idle away the nights on rooftops beneath oddly comforting moonlight. Yet, upon dragging himself to her doorstep, his aura of exhaustion and misery seems to have earned her sympathy for the time being. A quick once-over and dry remark about his dripping, sludge-like appearance had been the closest she’d gotten to acknowledging the elephant in the room.They don’t talk about it. Not once has Black Raisin Cookie asked – and not once has Shadow Milk wanted her to.Instead, most of Shadow Milk’s time is spent trailing after her as Black Raisin Cookie goes about her day-to-day activities. The bulk of her day consists of patrolling the Vanilla Kingdom itself; checking on the borders, examining the defenses, bickering back and forth with the little squirt that runs the Wafflebot hangar. While Shadow Milk keeps to the shadows for the latter, she has, on occasion, allowed him to dissipate into the shadows of her cloak when Shadow Milk lags a little too far behind in his exhaustion.Her warmth is… different, than Pure Vanilla Cookie’s. It’s not bad, perhaps a little colder than Shadow Milk likes, but he’s not picky at this point. To be carried from place to place is remarkably soothing, feels almost like a gift at this point in his deterioration. Shadow Milk can’t drift off in her presence, jostled so often as she strides through the streets, but he quietly appreciates the company nonetheless.Despite his relative clarity, Shadow Milk can’t offer much by way of conversation. He listens when Black Raisin talks, when she breaks their silence with remarks about the area or inquires into his opinion on something. There’s quite a bit of news about Caramel Arrow Cookie that Black Raisin shares with noticeable excitement; if he had more energy, Shadow Milk might consider teasing her about it. As is, he only listens, and that seems to be enough for her.The afternoon finds the pair of them in the markets – or rather, atop the market rooftops. Shadow Milk is sprawled along the tiles, warming himself in the sun, but Black Raisin Cookie is patrolling diligently, sending out her crows every which way as she scans the crowds with sharp eyes. Each new caw and call draws her attention as she continues pacing back and forth – tense. On edge.Shadow Milk had, admittedly, been fading in and out of wakefulness during the morning; he distantly recalls resting beneath her cloak for a conversation she’d had with a child, a guard, and an old woman but none of them had really sparked any intrigue. He wonders perhaps if he’d missed something, so he groggily asks:“Why are you so tense?”Black Raisin Cookie glances to him briefly before returning her attention to the crowd. “Weren’t you listening earlier?”“No,” Shadow Milk drawls back.“Three reports of a strange Cookie in the area.” Black Raisin Cookie lifts her head as a crow alights on her shoulder; there’s a quick series of caws before it takes off again in a blur of feathers. Unaffected, Black Raisin Cookie continues: “It takes a lot for Cookies around here to register a visitor as… strange. It could be nothing, but it’s worth keeping an eye out f…”Black Raisin Cookie abruptly trails off; Shadow Milk cranes his neck up, watching in confusion as her shoulders suddenly tense. Her gaze is lowered, down to the bustling markets that Shadow Milk can only hear, not see from this angle. She curses under her breath, sharply shaking her head as she groans: “Why today?”Shadow Milk, begrudgingly, lifts himself up – he’s barely more than a mass of aching dough at this point, but he is nothing if not always curious. He hauls himself over to the edge of the roof, staring blearily down –Oh.Oh no.Pure Vanilla Cookie is standing below.Shadow Milk winces as his Soul Jam gives a sharp pulse in recognition – he has to grit his teeth, focus his eyes to pick out the other Cookies crowding around him. White Lily Cookie is at his side, a translucent hand on his arm – she too is crowded around, a polite if strained expression matching Pure Vanilla’s smile.Pure Vanilla looks… marginally better than that night. Shadow Milk can still pick out the bags under his eyes, can see how heavily the other leans on his staff – but his smile is persistent, and he greets the Cookies surrounding him warmly.It’s not wholly surprising; Shadow Milk’s been occupying himself with other Cookies – well, Cookie singular – to take his mind off the other. Perhaps White Lily Cookie had thought him in need of some fresh air; perhaps Pure Vanilla had insisted on coming himself, to see his citizens he so dearly cherishes.Regardless of the reason, Black Raisin Cookie does not look happy about it.“I need to sweep the area,” she says abruptly, turning on her heels as she strides towards the next roof. “Keep an eye on him.”As if Shadow Milk is capable of tearing his gaze away.Pure Vanilla and White Lily Cookie move with the crowd, going from stall to stall as the Cookies chatter about them. They seem especially excited to see White Lily Cookie, and it is marginally amusing to watch every time an eager hand passes through where her shoulder shimmered in the light. Neither White Lily Cookie nor Pure Vanilla seem to be offering much in the way of conversation at the moment – how familiar – but Pure Vanilla is smiling and laughing at the Cookies eagerly basking in his attention.It’s nice to see him laugh.Shadow Milk half-melts into the roof, watching with renewed longing pulsing in his chest at the sight. So entranced he feels, simply watching Pure Vanilla move, breathe, smile, that it captures his attention nearly completely.Nearly.The first flicker of movement registers like a fly buzzing past; the brush of a shadow slipping by, nothing more. Yet there’s a sound, soft and almost imperceptible on the rooftops – and perhaps it is the purposeful quietness that grabs him, perhaps it is simply an excuse to distract himself from the need growing in his chest, but Shadow Milk finds himself thoughtlessly glancing up.Two rooftops away, a gleam of black metal catches his eye.Shadow Milk’s head snaps up; it takes a moment for his sight to fully adjust, to pick out the armor-clad Cookie hidden in the shadows of a chimney. There’s a bow in their hands and an oh-so familiar violet sigil carved into their helmet.The mark of a Silent Salt soldier.Time moves strangely; as if the realization had both slowed and sped up reality around him. The bow in the soldier’s hands lifts, drawing back with a sickening twang that cannot be louder than a whisper yet rings like a bell in Shadow Milk’s ears. The arrow, black and tipped with dripping ooze, is pointed down into the markets – down at the only two targets that could possibly matter.Shadow Milk lunges across the roof.Pain thrums through his every movement; he can see his motion draw the archer’s attention, can see the helmet tilt towards him with movement. It’s not enough; Shadow Milk can see the grasp on the string slipping, nocked and less than a breath away from firing. The arrow is loosened; the string thrums in a vibration that shudders through Shadow Milk’s down.He won’t be fast enough to stop it.Instinct claims him without thought.Shadow Milk’s hands – no, paws - slam on the roof as he hurls his massive, furred body forward; the archer’s arrow sails true, slicing through the air with a sickening snap.The arrow does not find its target.It buries itself squarely in Shadow Milk’s shoulder.The roar that rips through him is echoed with the thunderous screams of the Cookies below; and time is moving again as the soldier throws himself backwards, narrowly avoiding the snap of Shadow Milk’s jaws. Shadow Milk is falling; his paws snag on the opposite rooftops edge as he struggles to haul himself up. Tiles scatter and shatter on the ground below as Shadow Milk snarls, heaving himself up and throwing himself after the soldier as screams and cries continue echoing all around him.He has – seconds, at best. The arrow lodged in his shoulder oozes as Shadow Milk lunges, missing the soldier again by a hair’s breadth. The numbness spreading through him makes him stumble; the screams around him are swiftly fading as both Shadow Milk’s sight and hearing begin to slip away.Over the centuries, Shadow Milk has seen many prey fall to the poison of a Silencing Arrow. He’s never been on the receiving end until now.With one last-ditch effort, Shadow Milk hurls himself forward – and finally, his jaws snap down on the soldier’s chest, crushing him between his teeth. Salt spills from the impact as the Cookie goes limp, the cracked armor tumbling out from between Shadow Milk’s mouth as he spits his vanquished prey onto the tiles below.There’s no time left now. Shadow Milk sways dangerously, his vision narrowed to a single pinprick of light as he collapses onto his side. The world around him has faded to a dull whisper, his sensations numbed to pins and needles as Shadow Milk dimly notes the feeling of his body sliding downwards, scraping along the tiles towards the edge of the roof. He hasn’t the strength to stop his fall; all he can do is close his eyes as he feels himself tip over, dropping into the unforgiving plummet below.If there is any mercy to be found, it is that Shadow Milk cannot feel it when his body hits the ground.'
User: STOP YOUR MAKING ME CRY
User: STOP YOUR MAKING ME CRY
Assistant: