Chapter Text
The airship ride to Beast Yeast filled Pure Vanilla Cookie with both a mixture of anticipation and dread. Fingers curled a bit tighter around the wood of his staff's stem, feeling the familiar and comforting vine of the Vanilla Beholder at the top wrap loosely around his hand. It gave a gentle squeeze. Despite the appreciated efforts, the attempt at comfort of his steadfast companion did little to quell the bubbling mixture of emotions building in his chest.
He stared out into the expanse of trees welcoming them to the edge of the wild and untamed continent of Beast-Yeast. The eye of his staff automatically started to search the edge of the rocky shore for any hints of familiarity. They were too far north for that, he already knew, but he couldn't help but look, only really spying sheer cliffs, rocky outcroppings and the ruined remains of what he knew was once a pier.
He felt his heart clench in his chest, the eye of his staff lingering on it.
The gentle kiss of salty air stung his cheeks, and the gentle sway of the boat rocked him into a lull. His Beholder's eye took in the breathtaking view. It lingered on the approaching shoreline only for a moment more before automatically locking on to the man next to Healer.
The wind blew star dusted hair to the side as the much taller cookie almost childishly leaned over the railing of the ship. Navy, almost black, robes billowed about the scholar and silver rimmed spectacles collected droplets of the ocean spray. He turned his head to look back at Healer, lips split in a smile so radiant that it nearly out-shown the sun itself.
“My Fount--”
“Pure Vanilla Cookie?” There was a tug on his robes. The blue eyes of young Gingerbrave looked up at him, concern clear, “Are you alright?”
Pure Vanilla fully snapped back to reality then, noticing the wetness on his cheeks and wiping it away immediately. He forced a soft smile onto his lips for his young friend and replied with a quick, “Ah, I'm fine, my friend. The ocean air tends to, uh…irritate my eyes.”
The young cookie gave him a skeptical look, but Pure Vanilla did as he always did, and kept up his smile for the sake of others. In truth, he was feeling a rather odd mix of sullen and nostalgic, but he couldn't even begin to explain the feeling to anyone, let alone a child like Gingerbrave. How was he to explain the fact that he's been here before? Had lived here before, back when the continent was a thriving hub, and practically the center of Earthbread itself. Back when it was Bakers-Yeast and not Beast-Yeast.
How was he to explain that he spent hours tearing through book after book, scroll after scroll, practically ripping apart the Vanilla Kingdom's extensive library for the tiniest hint of what was now essentially a ghost. Only Black Raisin understood even if it was just a little, finding the former King in the middle of the Vanilla Kingdom's grand library, books and scrolls littering the floor, with Pure Vanilla at its center, a mess of frustrated tears with his knees pulled to his chest like he was a mere child again. How was he to explain that level of emotional distress to children ?
No...they would not understand.
No one would.
So he simply just smiled and carried on.
Fingers drifted up to clench at his broach, souljam humming warmly beneath his finger tips. No…no one would understand at this point, for that he was certain. The Virtues were now but a whisper in history, at least in Crispia. Maybe in Beast-Yeast, though, he would find answers.
What happened to you, my dear Fount?
My dearest heart, Shimmering Milk Cookie…
There had been a whisper in the wind beyond his own morose thoughts. The gentle call, a plea really, of an old friend that made his stomach twist into even further knots. Shard after shard of what was once his dear friend's souljam littered Beast-Yeast like a trail of bread crumbs. He followed them dutifully, though not naively.
He knew very well this could be a trap, something to lure him into Dark Enchantress's clutches once more…and yet, he couldn't abandon this fragment of White Lily. His dearest childhood friend. He failed her once…he had failed many cookies, actually.
White Lily.
His Mother
His people and Kingdom.
…The Fount… his dear Fount …Shimmering Milk.
How many cookies would he continue to fail?
With that in mind he followed the shards, followed their trail and the crumbs of White Lily's memories, letting them lead him towards a kingdom long thought just a myth by many cookies today. He…wasn't sure if it still stood. The Faerie Kingdom.
He remembered it faintly. The Knight of Solidarity considered it home from what the Fount had mentioned about his fellow Virtue. He never had the chance to meet him like he had met the Herald of Change, the Saint of Volition and the Bringer of Happiness. He was a distant figure in the Fount's life, not even coming to their…
“Why do you look so solemn, my love?”
The Fount sat hunched over letters, fingers carded his hair, pushing white bangs away from his face as he fiddled with an overly ornate quill.
Healer wrapped his arms around the Virtue's neck, nuzzling his shoulder fondly. The tension slowly started to leave Shimmering Milk's shoulders, and he heaved out a long sigh. He put down the quill and reached up to grip onto his fiancé's arm lightly, careful of ever sharp claws.
“...We are only weeks away from our union and Silver Salt has yet to reply,” Shimmering Milk said, voice carrying a mixture of both hurt and sorrow as he spoke, “I knew he likely wouldn't approve…but I would think he would at least do me the courtesy of giving me a reply.”
“I'm sorry, my Starlight,” Healer mumbled in reply, holding on to Shimmering Milk a little tighter, “I know your siblings mean the world to you.”
“...Salt hasn't always been this distant, Healer. We were once quite close. Baked from the same dough, actually,” The Fount sighed, leaning back into the healer's warmth, turning his gaze towards the ceiling, “I think a more mortal term would be twins, I suppose…but he's changed lately.”
“Maybe, after all of the commotion of the union we could visit his kingdom. I'm sure if you two just talked…”
Pure Vanilla twisted a solitary silver ring on his left ring finger, running his thumb on the smooth surface of the star sapphire embedded into the polished metal. He felt the runes engraved inside, the faded touch of his love's magic still tingled on his skin. It was a comfort. A stark reminder that those years were real…that it wasn't just some pleasant dream he concocted while his soul was in some sort of limbo.
His Fount was real.
Shimmering Milk was real and so was their love.
He was zoning out again…they were at the Silver Kingdom now. He shivered. The air tasted vaguely metallic, heavy almost. An oppressive blanket of magic seemed to coat the land. His Beholder's eye drifted upward, eyeing the gnarled branches of the silvery tree at the center of it all. He almost wanted to spit on the ground, his entire mouth feeling like it was coated in a metallic glaze.
Something about that tree made him feel ill.
This Kingdom made him feel ill in general. His mind was reeling, trying to process simply everything right now. White Lily's magic lingered in the air, wrapping tight around that cursed seeming tree. Her breathing husk of dough laid empty in a glass casket. The Light of Freedom whispered in his ear, pleading for his help.
It was almost all too much.
He tried to listen as Elder Faerie Cookie talked, but there was an instant buzzing in his ears, almost like static. A piece of Moonstone. A scattered soul of a once dear friend across Earthbread. Dark Enchantress Cookie. It was almost too much to process. His mouth answered almost automatically, voice clipped, as they moved on to another topic.
He was so tired. He just wanted today to end.
The tree. The Silver Tree, as it was referred to by Elder Faerie, was the next topic. He hoped it was the last. The singing was grating, but Pure Vanilla, as always, bit his tongue and stared on politely.
“Are you aware of where your power comes from, and how it is being used…,” Elder Faerie Cookie asked, silvery-blue eyes boring into the former King with an intensity that almost made him flinch. He felt a Vanilla Beholder vine wrap gently around his wrist, giving a light squeeze. He was always grateful for his staff and its constant presence, truly, and not just for how it aided his sight.
“Pure Vanilla Cookie?” Elder Faerie's eyebrows scrunched together in what seemed to be worry at the blond's perpetual silence.
“...What are you saying?” He finally asked, dodging the question with another question, trying to ignore the dread bubbling up inside his very dough. He felt as if he was not going to like this information. Not one single bit.
“The power of virtue, purified by the Witches themselves…,” Elder Faerie said slowly, turning his head to look up at that sickening Silver Tree, before looking directly at the Souljam, shimmering softly in the broach on his chest, right over his rapidly beating heart, “The Soul Jam that you harness.”
“You are not the first to wield that power,” The King's eyes stayed locked on the Souljam of Truth as he spoke, “The same goes for the other ancient heroes.”
His eyes crept up to meet Pure Vanilla's, which looked to the side almost automatically, refusing even a hint of eye contact. The only thing he could manage to spit out was a soft, “What?”
He knew this already. All of this. He knew it from the moment Shimmering Milk had shown him the Souljam of Knowledge, and seeing that it looked almost identical to the strange blue gem he was found with on his person when he first awoke as Healer Cookie. It was only clarified when he had remembered fully who he was…somehow, some way, he and the rest of his friends had gotten a portion of the Virtues power. It was only a portion…a half at most. Truth did not equate to Knowledge, and that was a simple fact.
“The Ancient Heroes…,” Gingerbrave began, sky blue eyes wide in shock.
“Are not the true owners…” Strawberry Cookie whispered, her soft voice slightly muffled by her hood.
“Of their Souljams?!” Wizard Cookie shouted in utter shock, his hat nearly falling off his head in the process. Pure Vanilla was quick to right it on melty ice cream hair, out of pure instinct.
The young cookie looked up at him a bit flustered, gripping on to the wide brim, as Gingerbrave continued, asking the question on most of their minds, “Well then…who is?!”
Elder Faerie cleared his throat, glancing down at the younger cookies before saying, “The story begins when this very Silver Tree was only a small sapling…”
“When the World of Desserts was at its infancy…,” As he spoke Pure Vanilla started to zone out again, ringing getting louder in his ears as his eyes turned once more to that damn tree. It was spoken about with such reverence but the magic it expelled felt far too vile to him.
The Witches baked the five Virtues. Yes, he knew this, straight from the Fount of Knowledge himself, as he recalled the story to Healer Cookie. While Elder Faerie told it with an air of solemn bitterness, Shimmering Milk had recalled it with an air of nostalgia, though just as underlyingly bitter. Well…maybe underlying was not the right word for how his Fount regarded the Witches.
“Do you miss them?” Healer asked quietly, a cup of tea steaming in his hands as the Fount looked away from his telescope and back down towards the star charts skewed around a solid oak desk.
The Virtue looked up, his face scrunched up in a rare look of confusion, “What do you mean, Healer Cookie?”
He placed the tea and saucer down gently. A blueberry and herbal blend that he found was the Fount's favorite. A warm drink on a chilly night was always nice, even though the man always insisted he didn't need that kind of sustenance.
“Well…,” He worried the edge of a sleeve, suddenly feeling a bit silly…foolish even, for asking the question, “Do you miss the Witches? I was thinking about it after you explained to me about you and the other virtues. Do you miss them?”
The Fount stared at him a moment, glasses slipping slightly down his nose as he blinked owlishly. He then let out a laugh, short and bitter, and turned his gaze back down to his charts.
“Absolutely not…what possessed you to ask such a thing? They are our infallible creators…not…whatever you are thinking they are to me,” The Fount said, voice nearly a mumble, fingers tapping out a steady rhythm against hard wood.
Healer swallowed nervously, his Vanilla Beholder's vines winding a bit more around his shoulders as it settled there, allowing him to see the Fount fully. His jaw was tight, and his hair nearly blended into the starry night sky.
“...I…had just thought you might…you seemed,” He paused, searching for the right word, but could only land on, “Sad…you seemed sad, recalling them.”
The Fount openly scoffed, turning his gaze back towards the healer, his blue gaze feeling almost as if it would burn right through him. He flinched a bit and turned his head away slightly at the tight frown on the Fount's face.
“Don't you mortals need your sleep?” Was the only reply Healer got, “If you're done asking me foolish questions you should be off to bed.”
“I…I apologize. I overstepped…I just wanted to bring you some tea,” Healer said, voice soft, fiddling with his sleeve more, still getting used to the heavy maroon material of the robe the Fount had lent him, “There's a chill in the air and the observatory gets cold.”
The expression of disdain seemed to melt off the blue cookie's face. He seemed almost flustered once he noticed the cup that had been next to him for the last few minutes. He cleared his throat a bit and murmured a soft, “...Thank you…and I'll accept your apology. My point still stands, though. You mortal cookies need rest.”
A small smile wormed its way onto Healer's lips, “...Alright, I will head to bed…I hope you'll consider that too. Sleep does every cookie some good, even the immortal ones.”
The Fount snorted, the sound a little more good natured, than the previous one. Amused, really. He shook his head a bit, a small smile worming its way onto his face. It showed a lot truer than the tight lipped, forced smiles the man wore day to day, and this softer, truer smile made something in Healer's chest grow warm and stomach flutter.
“Off with you, then, Healer Cookie.”
“Goodnight, Fount.”
Pure Vanilla came back to reality, and almost wanted to sink back into the depths of memory and fantasy again as Elder Faerie spoke.
“Absolute power begets nothing but arrogance,” Elder Faerie Cookie said, narrowing his eyes a bit at the cursed tree, “It inevitably corrupts its wielder, bringing them to the most tragic of ends…”
He felt bile start to creep up the back of his throat and he twisted his ring again, forcing it back down. He tried to keep his breathing calm, and willed his hands not to shake at what the Fae King across from him was implying.
“One by one, the Five, once regarded as saviors of the Cookie World, gradually turned to Darkness.”
Shut up, shut up, shut up!
“And thus, the Five Virtues, too, became distorted, twisted…Reduced to Deceit, Apathy, Sloth, Destruction, and Silence.”
Twist, twist, twist, just to feel the echoes of his husband's magic from the runes etched into the ring. A small comfort.
“Now known as the Five Beasts, the apostles of evil began their dark crusade…And forth they brought great destruction and suffering.”
That can't be right. That couldn't be right, now could it? The Fount…his Fount was haughty, arrogant and prideful, but he was also curious and kind and found joy in the discoveries of the world. But the Truth laid on Pure Vanilla's very chest, humming softly in what almost seemed to be a soothing manner.
The Truth hurts, doesn't it?
“The Witches could not bear to see what fate had befallen their creations. They punished the Beasts by sealing them away deep within this land and planted the seed of the Silver Tree to ensure their evil power never sees the light of day again.”
Failure, failure, failure.
If he had only been there, then maybe…just maybe--
“--earned by Cookies who had proven themselves worthy--”
He wasn't worthy.
He couldn't be.
He couldn't stop his husband from getting trapped in that vile, cursed tree.
He couldn't stop the Dark Flour War.
He couldn't prevent White Lily's descent into darkness.
He couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't.
The world seemed to blur around the edges, even with the aid of his staff. The ringing got louder and the world only blurred further when his staff slipped from his grasp and he felt his knees give way. He faintly heard the panicked screams of the children and felt hands scramble to catch him before the world faded to just black and that buzzing static.
He couldn't stop Shimmering Milk from--
His head was laying in someone's lap. Fingers ran through blond hair, soothing his worries away as they floated in this endless void. His eyes felt too heavy. He couldn't open them. His limbs felt like solid lead with pure and utter exhaustion. A small whimper left his throat and the person smoothing his hair shushed him.
“Sshh…sleep, my dearest.”
That voice…it was so familiar.
“Sh'm…ing…m…mil…k?” Pure Vanilla slurred out, trying to force his eyes open now. To make his body move.
“...Sleep,…we'll see each other quite soon.”
Healer backed up, feeling his Vanilla Beholder shift from the ornate metal staff Shimmering Milk had gifted him, back to his shoulders as his grip loosened in it, vines wrapping tight against his robes as he was cornered. Subconsciously, his hand flew to his stomach, pressing against it protectively.
He was going to tell Shimmering Milk that night. Would he even get to now?
A basket of berries hit the floor. He was amazed he held on to it for this long, after the chaos erupted around him and he tried to scramble back home.
A mutiny. There was a mutiny in the Blueberry Kingdom!
The memory was blurry around the edges, like he wanted to forget.
He desperately wanted to forget.
The crackle and pop of flames. The overwhelming scent of smoke. The screams of cookies, the Blueberry City denizens, and the torn remains of books and scrolls fluttering in the harsh wind. His nose stung and eyes watered. He needed to get back to the Spire. He needed to warn him. He needed to--
“It's the Fount's lover! Grab him!”
“This will get him to come down from the Spire.”
“Resume duty--,”
“Answer for the lies--,”
He pressed himself against the stone wall, chest wheezing, hands scrambling uselessly for any way to escape behind him. Tensions were high beyond the safety of the Spire, yes, but he didn't realize the the city would--
Hands grabbed and pulled, yanking him forward. He opened his mouth to scream and all that came out was a wheezy cough, lungs filling with the heavy smoke in the air.
The broach hidden under layers of fabric hummed to life.
You will not die today, P--- Van--la Cookie.
He felt behind him open up like a yawning maw, hands tearing at his robes, fabric ripping as he was seemingly dragged back into the deep, dark void.
Dark.
Blackness.
A void.
Is he dead?
Did he crumble?
A hand grabbed his.
He couldn't make out what was being said.
An anomaly? Timelines? What?
What does that even mean?
Healer awoke with a jolt. The winds felt dry, and sand dug into his back. His Vanilla Beholder's vines remained tight around his shoulder, but the eye shut. Above him what a black and purple blur of a cookie. The cawing of crows could be heard in the background, and he could feel a small weight hopping about on his chest.
“Are you alright?” She shook him lightly and all he could get out was a weak, dry cough before his eyes fluttered closed again.
“Shit…is that jam!” His stomach hurt, cramps beyond imagination rippled through him, and a soft sob of pain left his lips.
“Hold on--”
He was so tired…he couldn't keep himself awake anymore.
Pure Vanilla Cookie jolted awake, sweat clinging to his dough as he took in shaky breaths. The bed below him soft and the metallic taste in the air just a little less. He sat up slowly, blinking wearily. He sniffled, face still wet from the tears that likely spilled in his sleep. He wiped his cheeks, taking note that his outer robes had been removed, and he was just left in the practical cotton gown underneath.
His head was pounding, a steady throb, likely both from this oppressive Kingdom's magic and dehydration. He wobbled a bit, and hands steadied him. He jolted, a white and green blob of blurry shapes next to him. His staff was placed against his palm and his fingers automatically wrapped around the sturdy wood.
The Vanilla Beholder's eye opened and his own closed. The world came into focus and his heart nearly stopped in his chest.
“White Lily Cookie?”
“Pure Vanilla Cookie,” She said softly, placing her hand over the one still clutching at the sheets, soothing away the shaking he didn't realize he was doing.
“How…is this…are you?” He couldn't even manage to complete a sentence. She shushed him, and reached to tuck a strand of messy blond hair behind a pointed ear. The action was so tender it almost made him flinch away.
“I'm me, Pure Vanilla. Don't worry…Elder Faerie and the children…they revived me…though I would rather Elder Faerie had not done what he did,” Her actions, her voice, her…everything, it seemed off to him. Too formal for the girl that had once joined him at his mother's table and had fallen into the cream sheep pen more than once. The one who he helped catch yogurt slugs with and he ‘liberated’ forbidden tomes for...much to formal. She had never been formal. Not to him, and not when they were alone like this.
He had opened his mouth to question this change. To ask why this felt as if she was going through the motions. Why no Nilla ? Why no tugging on his cheek and calling him a fool for pushing himself too hard? Had their relationship really sunk so far that she felt the need to be this formal with him, or was it something else?
Suddenly there was a loud, echoing, crack . White Lily jolted, getting to her feet almost immediately. Pure Vanilla pulled himself up with his staff, legs still wobbly. He didn't bother with the robes or the rest of his kingly vestments, and just snatched his souljam from the bedside table. He stumbled after White Lily after pinning it to his gown, following the sound of the fae citizens' fearful screams.
“THE SEAL!”
“It's breaking!”
The children, along with Silverbell Cookie and Mercurial Knight Cookie joined them as the crack continued to split and the earth below shook with the force of it. Bark split and splintered and Silverbell Cookie could barely get out the words, “The rift in the Silver Tree!” Before a soft cackling filled the air, steadily getting louder as shadowy hands pushed their way from the gap, spectral, azure eyes flickering over all of them with almost a sadistic sort of glee.
“Ooooooh! I see that those pesky little vine shackles that have held us captive for oh so, so, SO long…,” An all too familiar voice said, “...Are GONE !”
Pure Vanilla felt dizzy again, leaning heavily on his staff. All his focus narrowed to the hole in the Silver Tree, and he hardly noticed the children, faeries and White Lily rush past him until the first spell was fired.
“Stop,” He whispered, voice shaky and unheard as they attempted to reseal the Beast… to reseal his husband . Logically…Logically he knew this was right. This was right for the Faerie Kingdom. For Earthbread as a whole, but his heart…it simply screamed no .
“Please stop,” He whispered again, voice hoarse, and teetering on a sob as tears filled his eyes.
Who were you more loyal to, Pure Vanilla Cookie? Your husband or his jailers?
He knew that answer.
His staff tapped the ground. Was it a misfire of a healing spell made in his pitiful state, or was it purposeful? It depended on one's perspective.
The rift got wider, sending wooden splinters out like shrapnel.
“The rift in the tree has gotten even wider?!” Gingerbrave yelled out, he and the kids were taking several steps back from the gaping hole of swirling dark magic. The metallic taste all but disappeared and Pure Vanilla felt like he could finally breathe again.
“It's... escaped…,” Silverbell Cookie gasped, covering his mouth in utter shock, eyes wide in pure terror, “Whi- White Lily Cookie! Use your sealing magic... just like you did back then!”
She shook her head, dough almost as pale as her hair. Her grip on her staff was tight, fingers shaky, as she whispered, voice wracked with the sort of grief utter failure brings, “It's too late…”
Larger than life, looming over them, blue and black hair spilling over his shoulders, no longer filled with stars, but eyes instead. He leaned out of the rift, cerulean and azure gaze wide and grin near manic as he spoke, “AHHHH!!!! Doesn't this fresh air just feel... DIVINE !!!!!”
His eyes drifted about the crowd cowering at his presence. His unwilling audience for his grand re-entrance to Earthbread. Pure Vanilla looked up, standing a bit straighter on shaky legs. Their eyes locked and he could see the Jester's mask loosen just slightly, the shock his expression took for just one moment shifting almost immediately back into that smug grin.
“Oh, I see...I have quite an audience here!” He said, voice nearly a croon as his gaze lingered on Pure Vanilla still, boring into him, “I am SO terribly sorry to have kept you waiting!!!”
“But now... the wait is over! Your favorite trickster is here!”
Pure Vanilla should feel dread, he should be filled with guilt and terror at the sight of this former Virtue, twisted into the Beast of Deceit. His husband twisted into this being of malice and trickery. But he didn't…oh, he couldn't ! Oh, all Pure Vanilla felt was utter joy!
“Pure Vanilla, what are you doing!” White Lily tried to grab his arm as he brushed past her. He shrugged her off almost forcefully, picking up his pace… towards the rift.
Towards the monster everyone else was so scared of.
Towards his dear husband.
Maybe Pure Vanilla Cookie was horribly selfish…but maybe so were the cookies of Earthbread. He was just another cookie baked on its surface, was he not? Fingers clutched at his flat stomach briefly before he pushed forward, as Shimmering Milk shrunk down to a still imposing, but more reasonably sized cookie.
He offered up a hand to help the Beast down from his prison. A smile tugged at his lips, genuine, soft and meant solely for the Beast before him, who took his hand without a thought, and floated down, heels barely clicking on the ground as he settled. Lips pressed to the silver ring on Pure Vanilla's hand as he leaned down, claws holding the healer's hand so softly. There was a glint of gold on the Jester's hand and Pure Vanilla's chest was filled with such warmth. He still had the matching ring to his own! Gold with a a smooth yellow topaz inlaid in its center. Pure Vanilla had carved in the protective runes himself on the inside of the band, just as Shimmering Milk had done for him.
“Shimmering Milk,” Pure Vanilla whispered, voice full of fondness even now. He craned his neck to look up at the beast, who leaned down close, face mere inches from his. He reached up without hesitation, smoothing a thumb along the scar marring his face in the shape of the fork marking that used to be on his forehead. He would ask about that later...and check his vision. Where were his glasses?
The Beast's lips twitched a bit and a surprisingly soft correction was given, voice leagues more gentle than it was just mere moments ago, “Shadow Milk, now, my dear Healer.”
If anyone behind him heard it they might have been quite stunned with the tone.
“Shadow Milk...I missed you,” He repeated back softly, ignoring the background noises of betrayal. He tried not to feel the sting of glares at his back. He was being true to himself, for once. True to his heart.
They wouldn't understand.
They had never loved so hard it hurt to breath.
His souljam hummed a bit against his chest. Whether that was because Pure Vanilla finally stopped trying to be something he was not, or it was just as happy as him to be close to its other half, he was not sure.
“I hope you enjoy the show, my dearest...I'll come get you after,” Shadow Milk nearly purred, pressing a brief kiss to his lips before snapping his fingers.
Pure Vanilla squeaked, clutching his staff to his chest, as he fell briefly through a void before landing in a chair in what seemed to be a balcony seat in a theater. The portal above him closed with a soft whoosh. He slowly loosened his iron tight grip on the staff, and relaxed into the plush seat. He slumped a bit, catching his breath and running his fingers along deep blue suede.
He slowly shuffled to the edge of the seat. glancing down from the balcony. He blinked in surprise as he leaned over the edge. He seemed to be looking down into the Faerie Kingdom as it was being swallowed up by Deceit, sending the people below scurrying away, lest they be transformed into just another actor in the Circus of Lies. His stomach churned, but less with guilt for the situation, but more with guilt at his utter lack of it. He chose his loyalties, after all. He decided, in a mere moment, that Shadow Milk outranked his jailers. That he outranked Earthbread, his friends, the children…everyone.
He should feel terrible…and yet he didn't.
He started to laugh, forehead pressing into the cool metal of the balcony railing, tears starting to spill down his cheeks as he just softly chuckled, before that laugh turned into a soft sob.
He felt relieved.
He felt whole.
He felt joy .
He did not feel guilt.
And that was utterly terrifying.