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Pure Vanilla opens his eyes to the sound of birds chirping outside, the gentle light streaming through the windows of his bedroom, and a terrible headache.
After the war, it's an unfortunately daily thing to wake up to. He blindly reaches a hand out to his bedside table, taking hold of a clock and holding it up to his face to check the time. It takes some time for his vision to focus and he sighs in relief at the sight of the clock’s arm pointing at exactly six in the morning.
Oversleeping isn't common for him, but that's not to say it never happens. Whenever it does, the rest of the day never really goes well. So, he's made a habit to get up at exactly six no matter what day it was or what kind of state he’s in at the moment of waking.
Not that it matters, because there are always things to do and his duties stay the same even on the weekends.
He winces as he forces himself into a better sitting position, absentmindedly casting a spell to numb the headache. It comes in with practiced ease, and he muffles a yawn as he tosses his bed covers aside.
It's yet another day, and a good morning might just determine how the rest of it goes. He blindly reaches for his staff on the other side of the bed and accidentally knocks it over. The loud thump suggests it fell right to the opposite side.
The healer sighs and carefully makes his way there, ignoring the numb feeling of his pain-killer spell. The spell isn't a permanent fix and comes with its drawbacks, but they're fine enough for what he needs to do today. It hasn't been a few minutes since he woke, yet he can tell that there's something off about today. He picks up his staff from the ground and scours his own thoughts for anything he might've missed yesterday or the day before that.
“....” His head aches, in spite of the temporary fix of the spell.
Pure Vanilla groans and rubs his own eyes, feeling a deep exhaustion set into his dough despite having woken up just minutes ago. He thinks it was probably the all nighter he pulled trying to catch up on paperwork some days ago. Or perhaps the recent sleepless nights.
Speaking of paperwork, there’s still stacks upon stacks that he still has to do because they've not found anyone else who can reasonably manage the workload of a ruler. It's a bit much for a cookie his age, but his Soul Jam keeps him going when his body physically can't.
Although he’d really prefer going back to sleep now, he knows there are more activities awaiting in the next few hours. Pure Vanilla groggily sits down in front of his vanity and blinks at his own reflection in the mirror. His eyes blur and his vision doubles—a little concerning, but that should be fixed after some coffee. Which he will get from the kitchens after he makes himself look presentable.
However, judging by how his hair is sticking out in five different parts, he thinks it may take a while.
He grabs a brush to get to work—and proceeds to spend half an hour trying to tame his hair into submission. After passing the forty minute mark, Pure Vanilla lays his head on the vanity’s desk and takes a deep breath.
The day has barely started, and it won't do to spend his morning in a foul mood just because he failed to comb his own hair. He doesn't even have this problem in other mornings. It just needs a little bit of patience, and a lot of clever angling of his staff to be done and make sure he doesn't look ridiculous in front of the staff. His actual staff and the cookie staff, that is.
He picks up the brush again and takes a deep breath.
It's not five minutes before that same brush is well and truly stuck. Right in his hair. Despite all his efforts and attempts for patience. He stares at his own reflection and wonders if crying now will make his day better.
He doesn't get any moment to ponder that question, because the next thing he knows, someone’s barged through his bedroom doors and is now standing behind him.
"....what are you doing?"
Pure Vanilla jolts where he sits, accidentally smacking himself with the brush was holding. He hisses as it tangles further in his hair and makes the length messier.
"Oh, what's this? The great Pure Vanilla Cookie, defeated by a mere hair brush?"
He winces as his attempts to untangle the brush from his hair results in failure—and more pain. The new arrival to his room steps inside like he owns the place, skipping to stand right behind him.
Shadow Milk's reflection in the mirror looks bewildered, as if he can't quite believe what he's seeing right in front of him.
"...seriously though, what are you doing to those poor strands?"
"...good morning, Shadow Milk. I'm trying to brush my hair."
He straightens up on his seat. It's not common that he has cookies barging into his room at this hour. Let alone Shadow Milk, who sleeps in well into the afternoon on most days he could.
The jester is definitely up to something. Which would be very worrying—had it happened just a year ago after he freshly convinced Shadow Milk to try his hand at redemption. Though, getting up so early in the morning doesn't necessarily equate to being up to something.
Or, more accurately, it shouldn't, but he won't put it past Shadow Milk to get up early just to make mischief.
"What I see is less brushing and more tangling, nilly. Do you need a definition for brushing?"
Pure Vanilla sighs. Trust Shadow Milk to say the most annoying thing possible without actually getting on his nerves. He thinks that comment would have ticked a nerve just a year ago, but by now he's much too used to the former Virtue's antics to be upset.
"I've never had long hair, if you can't tell." He levels Shadow Milk a look, daring him to comment on it.
Surprisingly enough, he doesn't. The jester takes his wrist with surprising gentleness and pries his hand off the brush. Pure Vanilla stares at his reflection in the vanity and that of Shadow Milk's, who is—untangling the brush out of his hair with such gentleness that he can't even feel a tug.
"You could've asked for help. Long hair haver here. Have been since I was poofed into existence." Shadow Milk rolls his eyes and successfully untangles the brush in barely a minute when it took Pure Vanilla at least five the first time it happened, embarrassingly enough.
"How did you even get it stuck like that? Your hair is straight."
His cheeks flush, "I don't—it's hard to brush it when it's so long." He argues.
He can see Shadow Milk's reflection pausing to think for a moment, his fingers absently separating Pure Vanilla's hair into smaller parts for easier brushing.
"...you can't see it properly, can you?" He guesses after a moment, staring Pure Vanilla in the eyes through his reflection.
"....no." His face burns in embarrassment.
"....I'd love to tease you over that, but you clearly look embarrassed of yourself enough." Shadow Milk snickers.
"I'm—there's a reason I kept my hair short."
It's for practical reasons first and foremost. Because his eyesight has never been the best and his depth perception is compromised without the aid of his staff. He simply can't tell which way to reach, especially when his hair goes way past his waist now.
"Didn't expect your magical girl transformation to spontaneously grow out your hair, huh?"
He fails to muffle a snort, "Magical girl?"
Shadow Milk nods his head very seriously. He's already halfway through his hair and it hasn't even been five minutes. Perhaps Pure Vanilla really was doing it all wrong.
"Y'know, like those shows that are so popular with kids these days. They have those silly transformations and they save the world with the power of friendship."
Just like you goes unsaid, but Pure Vanilla can practically hear it.
"It's hardly—well, I.. I suppose it is magic." Pure Vanilla admits.
It's rather hard to put a name to 'magical power boost resulting from fully resonating with the ancient gem gifted to you by the gods.' He glances at the table in front of him where his Soul Jam sits inconspicuously.
If there was one thing he thought would happen when he went ahead and cracked his Soul Jam, it wasn't a power boost and spontaneously acquiring a brand new one. The blue of his awakened Soul Jam is lighter than his original, and all the more eye-catching for it. As if the costume change wasn't attention-drawing enough. Though, placed there alongside all his other accessories, he could almost pretend that it was just an ordinary gem.
He sighs, feeling the weight of new responsibility settle on his shoulders alongside his new length of hair. It's—he wouldn't call it a burden, not when he has willingly signed up for it time and time again. This Awakening though, it feels—different.
He's Changed, and not in just the physical sense.
"Bear jellies for your thoughts?" Shadow Milk chimes in, somehow still at it behind him.
"It's... nothing, just thinking about the past year."
He shuts his eyes and focuses on the feeling of fingers gently carding through his hair. It's a nice feeling, almost relaxing even. While he knew Shadow Milk must've been regularly styling his own hair, what with how neat it appeared in his jester outfit, he didn't quite factor in how good he'd actually be at it.
The former Virtue's reflection stares at him in amusement. It's a common expression—Shadow Milk is free with his smiles and laughter. Though, Pure Vanilla knows better than anyone that it's only recently that it felt like he was truly happy.
Before, any smile of his was either deranged or half-hearted and laughter was malicious at best.
"That doesn't sound like nothing to me. Care to share with the rest of the class?"
"...I'm..." Pure Vanilla hesitates.
Worried. Anxious. Unsure of the future. Overwhelmed by all the new responsibilities. Afraid of all the eyes on him as leader of the Five. Their expectations, their hopes—their wish for a better world and for him to make it happen. It isn't often that he spirals into doubt. Most of the time, keeping a positive attitude comes easy. It's what he's done his entire life. It's what people love him for. The light in the dark, the hope for the hopeless, 'Saint' Pure Vanilla.
He stares at his own reflection in the mirror and doesn't quite see the image of hero and saviour that everyone likes to paint him as.
"...I may be going out on a limb here but I think the hair isn't your problem." Shadow Milk says and the sound of his voice fills Pure Vanilla's heart with an odd feeling.
They've come a long way, the both of them. Neither of them are where they started, and things will only change more in the future.
He remembers Shadow Milk as he was when finally defeated. The former Virtue was a—pitiful thing, to say the least. All barbed words and snarls, like a cakehound that's been kicked one too many times. It took a lot of convincing on his part to persuade both Shadow Milk and the rest of his own allies to give the jester a chance at redemption.
He's mellowed out considerably since then, and Pure Vanilla doesn't quite know how to feel about it sometimes.
That Shadow Milk's words hurt as if coated in poison. He narrows down on weak spots and aims for it without mercy. He shies away from touch, not hesitating to slap hands whenever anyone gets too close. He keeps himself above and separate from the rest of them, unwilling to 'lower himself' to socialize with the new Vanilla Kingdom's residents.
Every cookie in the castle had hated him. Pure Vanilla himself had lost his temper a few times.
This Shadow Milk is calmer—no, more at peace.
Shadow Milk is still himself, with crass jokes and barbed words. His humor hasn't changed, but every joke that stumbles out of his lips feels less malicious. This Shadow Milk speaks without a sneer in his voice. He doesn't carry himself in high-strung tension. He reaches out and talks to other cookies without being forced to.
He smiles more often. The real smile that lights up his entire face, the kind that makes others want to smile as well. He's picked up his old hobby of reading. They've even traded books now and again. They’ve read books together. The other cookies in the castle seem to tolerate Shadow Milk better these days as well. This Shadow Milk brushes his hair with a soft smile on his face and an air of genuine concern for his well being. This should be good, a sign that he's seen the ‘error of his ways and changed for the better’.
Yet, it leaves a bad taste in Pure Vanilla's mouth.
"....are you.. truly happy here?"
Shadow Milk's reflection raises a brow. He's set down the brush, having finished combing through the entire length of hair. Pure Vanilla can feel him separating the strands into parts.
"Where'd this come from? Is it time for our weekly heart-pouring session? I thought that was supposed to be a Saturday exclusive thing." He says chattily, pinning a good majority of the partings of his hair away to focus on a singular part.
"No, it's—I can't help but. I've—I've been thinking." Pure Vanilla pauses in frustration, his words and concerns mixing together incomprehensibly.
He tries to keep his thoughts in order. The lack of sleep must be getting to his brain, because organizing his thoughts feels like searching for a needle in a haystack. What is he worrying so much about? The work needing to be done today isn’t anything new, nothing he’s never done before. Expectations are hardly anything scary, being old as he is. Everything is the same thing every single day, and while it is odd that Shadow Milk is here this early in the morning, he’s done nothing so far. He hasn’t done anything malicious in months.
It’s fine. Everything is fine.
"You always think, silly vanilly. Think, think, think. It's not healthy to overthink. Weren't you the one to tell me that?" Shadow Milk huffs and pokes his cheek.
He did. It was during one of the rare bad days where Shadow Milk’s unflappable mask had slipped. Redemption isn’t easy, especially for someone as prideful as the former Virtue. It takes admitting that you were wrong, and that’s—hard to admit, even for himself, the one who everyone lauds as a saint.
"I—you know I don't—I'm terrible at following my own advice." Pure Vanilla sighs and buries his face in his hands. His head aches terribly and his thoughts are scattered—so much for wanting to have a good morning.
Hands gently rest on his shoulders and he pauses, not quite knowing what to expect. Knowing Shadow Milk, it could be anything from a simple comforting touch to being flipped over. While cases like the latter happen less often these days, it’s not out of the realm of possibility. Maybe it’d even be funny. He just hopes he’s not about to be suplexed off his seat or something equally as bizarre.
Instead, Shadow Milk decides to surprise him by—kneading his shoulders. He tenses and the jester huffs,
“Chill out, would ya? You’re stressing yourself out and you haven’t even been awake for an hour. How much sleep did you get?”
It was really less sleep and more short naps with intervals of him staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom, but if he were to count it as actual time spent in bed trying to sleep, it would roughly be around some—hours. His mind blanks out as fingers work at his stiff back, loosening knots he didn’t even know he had. He fails to muffle an embarrassing noise when those fingers hit a certain spot.
Much to his relief, Shadow Milk doesn’t comment on it. He shuts his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at either himself and his shameful expressions nor the jester and his undoubtedly smug face.
“I–really, how are you this bad at taking care of yourself when you’re a healer?” Shadow Milk guffaws. The laughter stings a little, but he knows it’s not meant maliciously.
Pure Vanilla makes a vague noise before clumsily putting together words to respond, “Mm.. bad morning, s’all. M’fine.” he mumbles, melting into the touch. It’s unbecoming, but if there’s anyone he’s willing to be this vulnerable with, it’s the cookie behind him. After all, there’s nothing about each other that they don’t already know.
“I–hello? Did you really just try to lie to me, the Master of Deceit?” The jester brushes some of his hair away and he can feel the other cookie moving the strands around.
“You don’t have bad mornings. You’re an awful, awful morning person.” Shadow Milk accuses dramatically, continuing to knead with one hand and run fingers through his hair with the other.
It’s awfully nice. Maybe the jester really isn’t up to anything this morning.
“Also, I see those eyebags. You’ve been hiding those, haven’t you?”
The trance he was in suddenly ends at that question and he snaps back into reality, head still aching as he jerks away from Shadow Milk’s touch. He catches the sight of his own reflection in the mirror. While his vision isn’t good enough to see that far clearly, his face looks terrible enough that he can see his own eyebags. Shadow Milk pauses behind him and Pure Vanilla is alarmed to realise that his staff has been set somewhere not beside him and he can’t see Shadow Milk’s expression.
Pure Vanilla laughs nervously, “It’s–I think you came in at a really bad time, Shadow Milk–” he turns and looks around, spotting his staff resting next to the standing lamp beside his vanity. The jester must’ve put it there when he wasn’t looking, because he clearly remembers setting it down beside him.
“I’ll be damned more than I already am if you think I’m leaving you like this.” Shadow Milk grips his shoulder and while it’s firm, it isn’t enough to hurt.
His world spins and Pure Vanilla tries his darndest to sit still and not give anything away.
“Look. From the moment I came in here, you haven’t been fine. You fail to brush your own hair. You keep insisting nothing's wrong and then you try to find something that's wrong by turning that question on me. It's–look, everyone and their grandmother knows I'm fucked up, old story, but you can't just—every single time, you avoid addressing your problems by trying to solve other people's problems.”
"....pardon?"
"I know you heard that. Seriously, what's up? Has the burden of expectations finally gotten into your pretty little head?"
"I—no, there's nothing wrong with me."
"Your glorious eyebags say otherwise."
Usually, he'd find that pretty funny. He's gotten verbally jabbed at by Shadow Milk enough times to grow immunity to it. Besides, nothing the former Virtue says is wrong—from a certain point of view.
Instead of chuckling like he usually does, he finds himself distracted by the sight of his own reflection in the mirror. The one looking back at him blinks, looking to the world like a wary cookie who hasn't gotten enough sleep in days. He puts a hand up to his own face, tracing the black half-circles under his eyes. He hadn’t had the time to apply flour to cover that before Shadow Milk barged in.
“Nilla–Pure Vanilla, c’mon. Just–I know you know you’re bad at following your own advice, but aren’t we practicing not-being-a-hypocrite here?”
“I–I don’t like worrying people, you know this.” Pure Vanilla mumbles.
Shadow Milk leans closer, tugging him back to lean against the other cookie’s chest. The jester brushes his hair back and out of his face, then leans down to rest his chin against Pure Vanilla’s freshly combed strands.
“I’m still worried, so you’re doing a shit job at that.” He murmurs and it’s—soft. Not accusing, not angry, no trace of upset in his tone that Pure Vanilla has come to expect from cookies who caught him neglecting himself.
This scenario is—familiar. It's not the first time this has happened, and Shadow Milk isn't the first cookie to voice their worry. Though, the other instances never came at a time of peace. It was always during war, or some ongoing crisis. Days, weeks, months of running around. Talking, discussing, writing and busying himself with the various items on his platter of duties. He'd often move from one agenda to another without rest, wanting to do as much as possible in a single day.
It wasn't intentional, really. When given an option, he does appreciate a break. He knows that he isn't really the best at admitting that however, because in his busiest days, it was always another cookie who stopped him with a reminder to rest. From White Lily, the rest of his friends, Gingerbrave and his party, Black Raisin Cookie and the raisin villagers. Truly, he is fortunate to have their support and confidence.
Though, he certainly didn't expect Shadow Milk to be joining that count.
"Hello? Earthbread to Pure Vanilla. Come in? You don't look too hot, nilla." There's a hand waving in front of his face and Pure Vanilla absently grabs it, pushing it aside to take in his reflection again.
The eyebags look—worse than usual would be an understatement.
"...I—apologise. I was lost in thought for a moment. Don't—don't worry about me, really." He murmurs absently.
Shadow Milk sighs.
"You always say that, y'know." The jester says and at that moment, Pure Vanilla realises he now has a braid slung over one shoulder and a crown braid looping around his head. He must've blanked out for longer than he thought. He's surprised Shadow Milk isn't commenting on it at all.
"...sorry, I—I don't think this is a good day for me." Pure Vanilla responds, trying to muster up his usual positive tone. It sounds alright, but judging from the expression on Shadow Milk's face, he doesn't quite buy it.
"No shit." He retorts rather crassly.
"What's happening, really? I thought things were good after you won the war with the power of friendship and dragged me by the neck to redemption."
That's–he thinks that’s exactly the problem. They have peace now. Fresh after centuries of Dark Enchantress Cookie being a constant looming threat over their heads. The war has been over for a year. The Vanilla Kingdom is all but back to its former glory, even without him as king.
Relations are good between the others' kingdoms, as well. The former-Virtues-turned-Beasts were contained, and his own friend group has made amends amongst themselves. Everything is as good as it can possibly be. Even Shadow Milk embodies that peace, finally seeing the good behind Pure Vanilla's 'deal of redemption'. It took long, painful months and more than several explosive arguments, but things are good between them now.
So why is it that Pure Vanilla still feels unsettled?
"...hmm.. you're scared that this peace won't last, so you're running yourself to the ground to make sure it does but spend your off days worrying about everything instead of enjoying the peace you worked so hard for, because everything could go wrong again in the snap of a finger. Am I right or am I right?" Shadow Milk guesses. His words are—well, harsh as ever, but he can appreciate the bluntness.
"...I..." Pure Vanilla sighs.
Before he could fight his headache and come up with a proper response, Shadow Milk snaps his fingers right in front of his face. Pure Vanilla cringes and backs away, his head hitting Shadow Milk’s chest. The jester snickers and pats his head in an almost condescending move.
"...did you have to say that and snap your fingers right in front of my face?" He grimaces, shutting his eyes. The day has barely started and he can already feel that headache getting even worse despite his earlier spell.
“I wanna make a deal with you, nilly.” Shadow Milk ignores his question, because of course he does.
"So, I think we’ve established that you clearly need a breather. Cause, obviously, everything won't go to the oven just because you stopped worrying about it."
Shadow Milk has a point. Really, he does. Except it's not like him at all to suggest rest—except it is, because despite all odds, somehow, Pure Vanilla had convinced him to be tolerable to other people.
"Deal is, stop looking for a problem to solve and I’ll make sure we have a very good time. Yes? Yes."
Pure Vanilla shakes his head. That might be true, but he still has responsibilities and duties to attend to. It won't look good to suddenly take the day off. It'd be both out of character and draw concern from practically everyone.
Besides, there is always something to solve when one goes looking for it—
Pure Vanilla bats Shadow Milk's hand away just before he snaps his fingers again. He might not be able to see very well, but the other cookie unfortunately knows exactly how far his sight extends.
"Stop doing that." He grumbles.
"I will if you stop thinking."
Snap.
"Shadow Milk." Pure Vanilla warns.
Snap. Snap.
As expected, the jester only continues snapping his fingers. Now with both hands, as if one wasn't enough of a bother. The healer inhales deeply,
"I—"
"Will keep annoying you until you stop stressing." Shadow Milk declares.
"It's too early in the morning for this."
"No time is too early for a good bit of fun, silly vanilly! Besides, things aren't going wrong right now, riiight?~" He singsongs, continuing to snap his fingers in front of Pure Vanilla's face.
The sound is getting irritating, but it has a strange rhythm to it.
"My mental health is going wrong with every snap of your fingers. Stop."
Shadow Milk wheezes, "Witches, you're so much funnier when mad."
Pure Vanilla grabs both of the offending hands. While it's true that he now feels too annoyed to think, it's not a particularly nice feeling.
"It's working though, right?"
"It is, but I hate it. Find another way." He grabs the jester's face and unleashes his frustration through some nice cheek pinching.
"My, my, so demandi—ow—! Stop—not again-! Why do you like doing this so much?!" Shadow Milk groans and half-heartedly tries to pull away from his hold.
"This is the fastest way to get you to stop and listen to me." Pure Vanilla answers wryly.
It's also a surprisingly cathartic activity, because his annoyance passes as if blown by the wind. He stares out the window and then at Shadow Milk, who is looking up at him with a displeased expression, cheeks still seized in his hold.
He stops pinching to cup the jester's face instead. The other cookie's expression morphs into something softer.
"...I really do mean it, though. You don't—you're bad at taking care of yourself. You gotta remember to leave some of you for you, nilly. I can tell you haven't had a good night's sleep in a while, and I was going to confront you about this earlier but you're just—never around. Always up and about. Saving everyone and the world. Which is, well, fine and good and all but—"
Pure Vanilla leans in and kisses him, effectively shutting Shadow Milk up before he could finish his rambling. He puts a hand up to the jester's hair and gently pulls him closer, keeping their lips locked as he stares into Shadow Milk’s two-toned blue.
This is a more recent development between them. One he's sure that neither of them had entirely expected, but welcomed with no objections all the same. He finds himself pleased to see a flush spread across the former Virtue’s cheeks as Shadow Milk pulls away first, floating a bit further away with a huff and crossed arms.
“Stop cheating and listen to my concerns. I'm actually trying to be nice here, c'mon. I thought you liked that kind of thing.”
“I do. I appreciate it, really. It's just—well, the day has barely started and I've a lot to do on my agenda today. I’d—it just wouldn't be right to take a break now.”
“And when exactly was your last break?”
“....” He can't remember.
“Thought so. Anyway, I'm dying to touch some grass right now. In fact, if you don't accompany me out of the kingdom to watch bugs and touch grass, I will actually die."
Pure Vanilla stares at him in bewilderment.
"....no, you won't."
"I will go insane, don't test me. I've done it before." Shadow Milk argues.
While that’s true, there are many definitions for insanity and the current Shadow Milk still fits at least half of them. He states this fact, not knowing how else to add to the conversation,
"I—I'm honestly not sure if you ever regained your sanity."
The jester makes an amusing, very dramatic offended noise.
"Excuse you, I am so sane. I just don't like being cooped up, nilly. Every second we spend here is a second not spent touching grass."
Pure Vanilla shakes his head, “I have work to do—"
Shadow Milk cuts him off, "Oh but you know how much your itty bitty cookies worry about little ol' moi~ it's so funny to see them scramble about at the sight of my handsome face, really! I might be tempted to dye their hair pink to scare them further."
Harmless compared to the pranks Shadow Milk has done in the past, but it will be a great hassle to turn everyone back. Not to mention it technically violates their bodily autonomy. Though, maybe it's alright if the dye isn't permanent. Still, it would be better if that didn't happen at all.
"Please don't."
Shadow Milk puts both hands on Pure Vanilla’s shoulders and leans in over one shoulder, batting his eyelashes, "Go out with me and I won't."
Pure Vanilla bumps his head against the jester’s with a fond sigh, "I—alright, what about tomorrow?"
He sees the jester’s eyebrow twitch from his reflection in the mirror. The next few words that come out of his mouth are entirely unexpected.
"I will dye your entire castle a bright, hot, absolutely dazzling pink."
The threat is emphasized with a poke to his cheek and Pure Vanilla fails to muffle a laugh. He pinches the jester’s cheek and giggles,
"I.. I actually might be able to get used to that. It's not like my colour perception is any good—”
It's terrible, honestly. He can only see as far as a meter in front of him without his staff. Colours are much more desaturated, with white and red being the brightest. If he hadn't had his staff to tell him otherwise, he really would have missed out on a beautiful part of their world.
Being connected as they are, he has no doubts that Shadow Milk knows of this better than anyone.
Instead, the jester scoops him up and says,
"Oh, what's that? Is that a yes to my absolutely amazing genius never seen before proposal to touch some grass? I knew you'd understand, nilly. Let's go right now!"
Another snap of his fingers and a portal opens next to them. Pure Vanilla's eyes widen,
"Wait no—"
“Hold tight, nilla. We are getting the hell out of this stuffy castle.” Shadow Milk puts one leg into the portal and steps through without waiting for his response. The jester has a puppet pick up their discarded staffs, directing them to follow.
“Shadow Milk—”
“Shhhhushsh, it's Sunday. People can survive without you. They did for a few centuries.”
“That's not the point—”
“I already told Black Raisin Cookie.”
“You–did? Shadow Milk–no, wait–!”
The portal shuts behind them.
“Oh look, grass!”
He's dropped unceremoniously onto said grass. Shadow Milk immediately lays down on top of him. He flails and tries to push the other cookie away, to no avail because the former Virtue does not seem keen on moving at all.
“What do you mean you told Black Raisin Cookie?” Pure Vanilla squirms under him and Shadow Milk shuffles their positions so they can lay next to each other on the grass, albeit with the jester still half on top of him.
“Exactly that, duh. I'm not stupid.”
“...you planned to kidnap me? And Black Raisin Cookie allowed it?”
He really should’ve expected something like this when he saw Shadow Milk walk into his room at six in the morning.
“Yes and kind of. Look, she was gonna freak out no matter which way I put it, but if she and I can agree on anything it’s that you need a break, stat. I was even gracious enough to tell her where we’re going!”
“I—alright. Okay—it’s—where even are we? Do I want to know?”
Shadow Milk pokes his cheek and points at the sky. Pure Vanilla stares up at the blurry skies and finally pauses his thoughts to take in his surroundings.
It's a beautiful day outside. The grass is soft under him and the cloud formations are gorgeous, even blurry as they are with solely his own vision. His staff is pressed against his hands and he takes hold of it as his vision refocuses, clearing to reveal the true state of the sky.
“...oh.”
The last time he's laid down on the grass and stared at the clouds was—a long time ago now, certainly. He can't quite remember if it was on a trip with his friends or during his school days with White Lily.
“Nice, isn't it?” Shadow Milk murmurs.
He turns towards the other cookie. This close, he can clearly see Shadow Milk’s face even without the aid of his staff. Similarly to himself, the jester is staring up at the skies, one eye shut.
Pure Vanilla thinks back to their previous interactions and remembers that to be a little quirk of his. When looking at something at a certain distance, Shadow Milk tends to close his left eye before squinting at whatever it is he's trying to see. He never got around to asking why that is, but he's pretty sure it's because of his heterochromia.
Just as his own heterochromia comes with its set of issues, it wouldn't be a surprise if Shadow Milk shares similar struggles. He swallows, regretting not asking earlier. Prideful as he was, the jester would definitely choose to suffer with subpar vision than ask for aid.
Or maybe, he's overthinking it and there is no hidden reason behind the little quirk.
Shadow Milk pokes him.
“...yes?”
“I brought you here so you don't have to think. So stop.”
“...can I ask a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Do you have vision problems?”
The question renders Shadow Milk positively dumbstruck. Maybe he really did miss something about the jester if he's being faced with that expression of pure incredulity.
Although, it's not as if Shadow Milk makes a habit of talking about himself. Everything Pure Vanilla knows about the other, he had gleaned from what memories he saw through their connected Soul Jams and pieced together alongside the few words occasionally said about his backstory.
There’s a reason for that, he knows. Most likely a not very happy one on top of that. He's in no position to judge nor push for answers, so he never does. Maybe one day, Shadow Milk will be comfortable enough to share the past with him.
Perhaps that way, he could stop running away from his own as well.
Snap.
Pure Vanilla bats the offending hand away, “Stop that, would you?”
“I will if you get your head out of the clouds and look at the actual clouds.” Shadow Milk grumbles, sitting up on the grass and pulling Pure Vanilla up with him.
“I think we've established that I'm running on three hours of sleep.”
“Yeah, so we're relaxing today. And chatting. Cause I know you wanna know my tragic backstory. Which I was about to tell you until you went and blanked out on me for a straight minute.”
Pure Vanilla winces at the very pointed tone, “I do apologise.”
“Unforgiven. Anyway, to answer that silly out-of-nowhere question of yours, yes. My vision is equally as horrid, but not as bad as yours.”
“...it is??”
Sans the little quirk of closing his left eye, he has no other tells that'd suggest vision problems. The staff he has doesn't act as a vision aid of any sort either—he’d tested it once and Shadow Milk himself admitted that the staff was used exclusively for casting magic.
“Yep. Though it’s not half-bad, if I do say so myself.”
“Oh, is it just your left eye that’s bad?” Pure Vanilla guesses randomly.
“Ring ding ding! Correct. My left eye is fucked!” Shadow Milk snaps his fingers again and beams at him.
Faced with such an expression, he almost doesn't mind the finger snapping.
“I’m honestly surprised you never noticed.”
“No, it’s—well, it's not very obvious?”
“Yeah, thanks to my amazing acting skills. Though, we were literally one person for a whole minute and you still didn’t—wait.”
Pure Vanilla sets his staff aside and stares at Shadow Milk. Or perhaps more accurately, the blurry visage of blue and black that is Shadow Milk. He silently points at himself, and his own two-toned eyes that have been horrible since the day he was baked.
“Yeah, I—..sorry. I forget that you're actually, y’know, blind blind.”
His staff is pressed back into his hands and he squints at Shadow Milk, now in full definition.
Half-blind. Now that's something he didn’t see coming.
“...how is it that your depth perception isn't compromised?”
“Who says it isn't?” The jester raises a brow.
“You—you mean to tell me your depth perception has been just as horrible as mine this entire time?”
“Pretty much. Though I’ve got it better than you, one of my eyes is actually in working order.” He pokes at the side of his right eye.
“...I see.”
“No, you don't. Neither of us do. Properly, that is. Imagine having full perfect vision, can't be me—well, us.”
Pure Vanilla snorts, “I–does your staff aid you? And what was that about your tragic backstory?”
“Nope. I’m used to the half-n-half vision. I used to wear a monocle, though. Now that fit was super nerdy.” Shadow Milk answers chattily.
For someone who often denies being a ‘nerd’, Shadow Milk has an unmistakable fondness for Knowledge. After getting over his apprehensiveness of revisiting his old Virtue, he had taken to the library like a fish to water. It makes sense, what with his old title being the ‘Fount of Knowledge’. He remembers other cookies gawking at the jester finishing a three hundred page book in three hours. The former Virtue had read through the entire library by the end of that month.
He had had to bring books from other kingdoms to keep the jester occupied in his downtimes. Even with that, he had chewed through the books faster than they could find more.
“...do you miss it?” Pure Vanilla asks, somewhat hesitant at the question.
It’s not every day that Shadow Milk is willing to speak about himself, let alone share his ‘backstory’. He hadn’t even done so with both of his ‘minions’. Pure Vanilla had talked to both Black Sapphire Cookie and Candy Apple Cookie before, and the both of them combined knew less about Shadow Milk than he did.
Shadow Milk rolls off of him fully to lay next to him instead and answers,
“..often. Used to overthink everything just like you.” He confesses, their eyes meeting.
Pure Vanilla leans closer, turning to lay on his side so he can face Shadow Milk properly. He sets his staff to the side. This close, he can see Shadow Milk’s face without his vision blurring. He makes himself comfortable where he is and listens, feeling his headache slowly fading into the background as he focuses on the sound of his counterpart’s voice.
“It was—maddening. My.. Fall, was less of me falling and more, well, diving right into it. I gave up everything that day. My Virtue, my cookies, my Knowledge—the true, objective Truth.”
He’s heard bits and pieces of this before. Among the Beasts, Shadow Milk stands out as their de facto leader and supposedly, the only one to choose to Fall. Each of the other Beasts had something to drive them over the edge before they had succumbed to corruption. Shadow Milk, lauded as the worst of the five, had caved to the curiosity of Falling and corrupted his own Virtue.
“I knew what I did. How unforgivable it would be—how it’d make me a filthy sinner in the eyes of our gods. Still, I missed it. Being that cookie—the Fount of Knowledge. Everything and anything there is to know, right at my fingertips. The power was maddening, and I went madder without it.” Shadow Milk snickers, as if he had told a very funny joke.
Then, his expression falls flat.
“I went from having days packed to the brim with things to do and cookies to see—to nothing at all. Nothing but me, myself, and I. Me and my Spire, cause all my friends had Fallen way ahead of me and I fucked things up with all of them.” He hums, sounding nonchalant.
“I…” Pure Vanilla swallows. He can’t imagine being in that position, nor how painful it must have been. He reaches a hand out and Shadow Milk meets him halfway, clasping their hands together.
“Hush, not a sympathetic word out of you now. What happened’s happened, nothing either of us can do to change it, nilly. It wasn’t all that bad at first, y’know. Having absolutely nothing to do.” Shadow Milk laces their fingers and gently squeezes his hand.
“It.. I think that, in all my days as the Fount, I never really learned to stop. I was always moving, always thinking, teaching, answering questions, being a nerd, doing diplomacy, paperwork–all that busybody stuff. I was practically immortal, so I pushed myself to my limits and then passed it without even realising that I did.” His gaze breaks away from Pure Vanilla’s and he follows Shadow Milk’s eyes towards the sky.
The birds chirp in the background, the wind a gentle breeze through the soft grass.
“In the end, despite all my power, my position, my prestige—I was just a mere cookie. Weak. Feeble. Susceptible to corruption and selfishness.” Shadow Milk’s grip loosens and this time, Pure Vanilla is the one squeezing his hand.
“I used to think that what I did was the only thing I could have done. That any cookie would have done the same, put in the position that I was. For all my–everything, I let myself become jaded and too selfish to continue believing in good.”
“....” Pure Vanilla leans in, cupping Shadow Milk’s face with his free hand and pressing their foreheads together.
“It isn’t easy.”
“Yeah, and you know what else isn’t easy? Reforming that mentality. But guess who did it?” Shadow Milk gently bumps their heads together.
“You did. You convinced me that it was worth it to be kind again.”
“You did that yourself. I just nudged you back to the right path.” Pure Vanilla argues, smiling as he does so.
“And you did so with kindness. Unflappable, unstoppable, unabating, unabashed–”
“I get it–”
“-kindness. Which you have so much of in your soft little squishy heart that it really, really surprises me that you can’t seem to spare any for yourself.” Shadow Milk pokes him in the chest and he blinks as he realises that they had left his Soul Jam at his bedroom.
Pure Vanilla takes a good look at Shadow Milk and realises that the jester too, is missing his own Soul Jam. Their eyes meet and he’s faced with the sight of Shadow Milk’s mischievous smile as he realises what Pure Vanilla had just noticed.
“Surprise. Today, you’re not Saint Pure Vanilla Cookie, Virtue of Compassion and savior of Earthbread; and I’m not Shadow Milk, Master of Deceit, First Demon yada yada. We’re just Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk, and we are going to spend all day laying here touching grass and thinking about nothing. Because I said so.” Shadow Milk snaps his fingers.
Pure Vanilla fails to muffle an exasperated but fond sigh.
“Seriously, I went so batshit cause I had a bad day. I’m not about to watch you repeat my mistakes, even though it’s very likely that you never will. Plus, like, learning to be kind to yourself is honestly really great. Imagine having a guilt complex, am I right? I had such a character arc the moment I dropped that thing, I swea–” He’s silenced with a kiss and Pure Vanilla drags the jester closer, pressing their chests together and tangling their legs as they lay on the soft grass of this beautiful meadow.
Shadow Milk makes a muffled noise of offense. He presses closer, licking the jester’s bottom lip and gaining a sense of satisfaction when that lights his counterpart’s face a nice shade of bright blue. From there, it takes no time at all to have Shadow Milk melt into the kiss, all words and thoughts silenced as they enjoy their moment together.
“...I love you.” Pure Vanilla says once they break the kiss, limbs tangled and enveloped in each other’s warmth.
“Yeah, yeah, get some sleep, would ya?” Shadow Milk snaps his fingers.
“...seriously?”
“I gotta make sure you know that nothing is and will go wrong the entire time we’re here.”
Snap.
“You’re ruining this moment.”
Snap. Snap.
“I take everything back. I forsake Kindness.”
“Glad to know you’ve seen the Truth for what it is.. A lie.” Shadow Milk declares with a voice very reminiscent of his theatrics at their first meeting, and then he dares to wiggle his fingers at him.
“...I hate you sometimes.”
“Awwwe, I love you too, nilly!~”
Pure Vanilla grumbles and half-heartedly pinches Shadow Milk’s cheek. The jester cackles.
“...also, to answer your earlier question: yeah, I’m happy.” Shadow Milk giggles, face still adorably flushed. The sight of him draws a giggle out of Pure Vanilla himself and he smiles, pressing their foreheads together and saying in a soft voice,
“Good. Because I am, too.”