Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Somewhere between freezing and starving, he lays on the thin layer of snow coating the ground. He can feel it soaking through his thin clothes, touching his dough and making the chill ever so slightly deeper. Any more and he'll start to feel warm again– he's experienced it before. It was sheer luck he got out of it that time, but it’s not likely it’ll happen again. He'd had a slightly less empty stomach that time, and legs that were listening.

He doesn't know how long it's been since then. The only reason he knows that feeling warm is a bad thing is because the random traveller who'd helped him that time told him so before dragging him back to the village. He's learned a lot between then and now, but time still escapes him. Why bother counting the days, or the cycle of the moon, or the seasons? Time passes, and he doesn’t really have any reason to pay more attention than that. It’s wasted energy, he has to think about food and stuff more.

He can only really count up to ten anyways. That's how much he can get for sweeping leaves up in the fall, and for ten he can get five bread rolls, which gives him an easy start for when it snows. When it gets cold it's impossible to find the edible plants, and he's tried a lot of plants to know that anything he finds in the cold isn't going to do much more than make him sick, and they’re not even worth trading. It would be worse to be sick now, because then he'd be sick and freezing and starving.

He doesn't know how long he has left. Not long, probably. He should get up, try to find some other random traveller, go back to the village, he should do anything. His legs don't listen, though. His legs don't listen and his arms are too heavy and he is kinda starting to feel warm, now, so he knows it's probably too late.

He'd cry if he could, probably. Or maybe he wouldn't. He finds crying a hard thing to do, even though other kids make it look so easy. They'll trip and scrape a knee on hot cobblestone and cry and cry, until their adults come to wipe the tears away and kiss the scrape better. He wonders if that’s why he can't cry like he ought to. He doesn't have an adult of his own, so he doesn't have tears to shed when he trips and bleeds. He's only had tears when he's gotten real mad, but he's pretty angry now and they don't come, so he doesn’t know what that means.

The only reason he's out here and not in the village is because someone caught him nabbing a grape off a bushel. But really, it was only one grape! He even picked one that was gonna fall off anyways, with an icky bruise on it. It wasn't even a good grape. He doesn't deserve getting chased out into the woods for it. He knows that. He had seen other kids do worse and only get their hands slapped for it. But because he doesn't have an adult, he gets chased out. It’s unfair.

His fingers twitch, not even able to curl into a proper fist. The cold is freezing them, or he's been running on no food for too long. Either way, it doesn't change that he knows it's the most he's gonna get. It's probably the last twitch his fingers will ever twitch.

“Ohhoho, now what do we have here?” He doesn't react to the voice, he can't, but it does surprise him. It's a very silly voice, maybe, or just one that's laughing. He wonders, blinking slowly, turning his eyes but not his head to try to find the source. He doesn't see anything, so he assumes they're somewhere else. But when they speak again they sound closer. “A lost little cookie, all on his lonesome, on a cold winter's night. I wonder, does he know how this story goes…? Does he know a Beast lurks in the shadows, just waiting to snatch him up?” The voice laughs some more, but he doesn't know why.

His tongue is limp in his mouth, and he can't move his jaw. If he wants to talk, he can't, but he doesn't know if he wants to. If there is a beast in the woods, he's practically beast-bait right now. He may be leaving soon but he doesn't wanna leave that way. He blinks some more, his eyelids starting to droop now, but before they can fall closed he suddenly sees blue.

Not just blue. A blue face, with a wide smile, and two mismatched blue eyes. Blue hair, writhing like snakes, with blue eyes blinking out from the shadows of it.

Oh. Not a beast. A Beast. He knows about the Beasts. It's one of the things he's actually been taught, because they teach every kid about the Beasts. His village is close to the Spire of Deceit, if he remembers right. That means this is the Beast of Deceit, who likes to play around with his cookies before he crumbles them.

He's never played with other kids much, they don't like him because he's quiet and he knows things they don't want him to. Or their adults don’t like him, and tell them not to talk to him. But it's not his fault he likes listening to people, especially when they talk so close to him. If it's supposed to be secret then they should talk somewhere secret. Or at least check that he’s not stood right there when they start talking. But does that mean the Beast won't play with him because he's bad at it? The Beast will probably be pretty annoyed that he's not a good playmate.

“Someone's a little quiet! Wake up, silly, you're not dead yet!” The Beast snaps its fingers in his face, making his eyes shoot wide with surprise, but he still only barely manages to twitch his fingers. It doesn't escape the Beast's notice, and it narrows its eyes as it looks him over appraisingly, rubbing it's chin with a finger as it hums. “Guess you're closer to it than I thought! And I thought youth was supposed to make you sturdier!”

The Beast cackles again, floating back in the air and curling into itself, clutching its stomach tightly. He watches it and wonders.

“Say, this is more fun when the kids can run and scream a little.” The Beast wipes a tear away from an eye, which makes no sense because it's clearly happy right now. It snaps its fingers, and suddenly his limbs are tied up in string. He's pulled by his wrists up onto his feet, and he blinks wildly as a wave of dizzy sinks into his gut and makes his stomach rumble unpleasantly. The Beast squints at him again, and with a wave of its hand he starts to spin. He's glad he hasn't eaten, by the time the Beast stops him again. “Gee, kid, not even a scream now?”

He still can't move himself, even though he's upright. The Beast frowns, which is bad. He knows it's bad when the Beast's aren't smiling. When they smile they're dangerous because they're having fun, but when they frown you can't even run. He couldn't run either way, really, but that doesn't really matter.

He just continues to watch. He can't even feel really worried about it. He's already dead, he's just gotta cross the way now. The Beast is not any scarier than anything else he's dealt with his whole life.

The Beast grins again, and with a curl of its finger he's drawn closer to it. “Now, isn't that curious.” It drawls, grabbing his chin and pushing pulling tilting his head this way and that. He keeps his eyes on the Beast, and that seems to entertain it. “Oho, not one bit scared, huh? I wonder, I wonder…”

The strings holding him upright fall away, but when he starts to fall too the Beast catches him under his arms. They're a few feet off the ground, his head rolls limply forward and he can see that much. “You might be fun once you've got a bit of life in you! I've got a great idea, how about you come with me?” The Beast shakes him enough that his head rolls back to being able to see it. It's grinning.

He can't really stop it, nor is there a point to pretending he can. He's tired anyways. He knows his eyes won't open again when he closes them, but he can't help himself. The last thing he feels is the Beast adjusting its hold on him, carrying him like how he's seen adults hold other kids sometimes, set on their hips. The last thing he hears is the snap of a finger. The last thing he smells is blueberries.

It's nice.

He opens his eyes and for a moment thinks he was just dreaming, even though he never dreams because he doesn't ever, ever sleep deep enough to. But then he looks up, and he sees blue, but it's blue fabric and blue ceilings and blue walls and– and a kid with mismatched blue eyes grinning at him at his bedside.

“You're alive!” The kid cheers, throwing its hands up into the air. He blinks blearily at it, eyes casting about some more before he spots a tray. It's filled with food, warm food, and a tall glass of milk. His mouth is too dry to water, but the kid seems to notice anyway. “Oh, yeah, you're hungry, huh?”

He barely has the energy to nod, but he manages. The kid laughs again, and grabs the tray from where it sits, but doesn't bring it closer to him.

“You gotta know, food comes with prices! You’re not that tiny, so you probably know that.” He knows food costs. Five bread rolls costs ten. He's been given food for work before. A lady once told him to take what he wanted and then told him after he took a bite that he'd have to wash dishes all day because he took something he shouldn't have. He doesn't care. He just nods again, and the kid's grin grows wider. “You suuure you wanna take this food? The Beast brought it for you. Gotta say, his prices can be steep!”

He doesn't care. His jaw loosens, he's able to unfurl his tongue. His voice is raspy from dryness and disuse, but it's there. Barely. “I'll pay anything.” He croaks, and the kid giggles wildly before setting the tray down in its lap. It tears a chunk off a bread roll, dips it in a steaming bowl until it's soaked red, and then makes odd noises with its mouth as it moves it in loops through the air. Up until it moves the bread closer to his face, and then stuffs it into his mouth before he really understands what it's doing.

The kid continues to feed him until he turns his head away, which doesn't take very long at all. He should eat more– he knows that he has to take what he can get, and taking food from a Beast is going to cost him more than he's ever paid before, so he really should eat as much as he possibly can… but his stomach is rumbling dangerously, and he can't afford to be sick.

“Let's play!” The kid shouts, tossing the tray aside and scattering the leftover food on the ground in a splatter. He stares at the sight blankly, before being yanked upright by the kid and then pulled out of the bed.

He's unsteady, and his legs still feel icky and bad. He only manages one step before he falls down again, landing on his face with a small pained whine. The kid lets out an annoyed groan, but other than shaking his arm around it doesn't really act mean about it. He lets out another noise, something that may have been sorry, but the kid doesn't seem to hear. Or maybe pretends it doesn't.

“Guess you're still pretty dead, huh.” The kid mutters, eyes narrowing and turn of its frown suddenly much sharper. “Another day, maybe. Probably should bring a healer in… no, no, that won't do…” The kid mutters, rubbing its chin thoughtfully as its eyes fall shut completely. As he watches the kid think, he finds himself wondering again. This time, he wonders if the kid is really a kid. It was acting like one before, but now it… it's too sharp.

It has the eyes of the Beast.

Maybe…

Does it matter?

His eyes fall shut, once again. The kid mutters to itself on matters he doesn't care to listen to. He is alive, and maybe that's only for a little while longer, but clearly the Beast wants something from him. It's playing a game he doesn't know the rules of, and he doesn't really need to know to play along. Clearly. Otherwise it would have said something, right? That's what you do with games. You say the rules, if they matter, and then you play.

He doesn't really know. He wasn't ever invited to play, after all. But when his eyes open again, he is back in bed, and the kid is sitting in the chair beside him again, legs tucked up to its chest and arms wrapped tight around them. Its eyes are sharp, for a moment, carefully analytical, but the moment it notices he's awake again the sharpness fades away and the kid grins wide.

“You're alive! Again.” The kid says, unfolding itself and stretching carelessly. It reaches for a new tray of food, though there's significantly less than before. He's capable of moving his arm, now, so when the kid tears off a chunk of bread and dips it in a bowl (of soup? He's not sure), he lifts his hand to try to take it. He'd rather feed himself, but the kid just pushes his hand back down. “Save your energy!” It scolds, though its tone is playful. “Can't have you dying because you're too tired!”

He opens his mouth to respond, brow furrowed with frustration. He's not that weak– only, the kid shoves the bread into his mouth the moment the opportunity shows itself, and he's left sputtering and coughing until he gets the sense to chew. The food is warm and filling, and there's… something to it, that feels particularly good. It tastes like how sparkles look, if that makes sense.

He doesn't stay awake long. By the time he finishes eating what the kid gives him, his eyes are droopy. It doesn't make sense to him, but it isn't as if he can fight it. So he sleeps, the kid wishing him goodnight before his eyes even fully close. This becomes the routine, for a while.

The Beast is certainly strange. If it is the kid, or the kid is the Beast, or however he's supposed to say it, then it's weird that it's keeping him alive. It wakes him, and feeds him, and sends him to sleep again, over and over. Sometimes he wakes up and it's an old man, or a pretty lady, or a stern grandmother, or any number of characters. But every time, it's the Beast's eyes that watch him. It's confusing, but so is everything else.

He sleeps a lot, and wakes up a lot, and he's almost certain he's never gonna stop. And he doesn't. Until the day he wakes up and can sit up on his own, that is. And then, when he does, the kid smiles. Wide and excited, with it reaching its eyes just barely. Then, it drags him out of bed to play.

It doesn't seem to mind that he doesn't know how to play very well. It leads him through the games with energetic enthusiasm he, slowly, very slowly, learns to match. The games are always unfair; he doesn't win a single time, the rules stacked against him even when the kid says he has a chance, but it's fun. It's really the only time he can remember having fun. It's almost like it's all a dream, but he doesn't dream.

He's certain by now that the kid is the Beast, but it doesn't really matter. If these are the games he gets to play before he crumbles, then he doesn't really mind it. It's nicer to pretend that he doesn't know, but he's not very good at it. The Beast still grins regardless.

They play until he falls, his legs giving out because just because he's alive doesn't mean he's okay. The kid, which is the Beast, leans over him with a pout and a glare. “Really? That wasn't very long at all!”

“Sorry.” He rasps. The Beast rolls its eyes, and with a wave of its hand he's held upright by strings again. He's forced to march back to the bed he woke up in, and once he's laying down again the Beast enters the room after him. It's back in its normal form, or he at least assumes it's its normal form. The one he met it in.

“Guess I gotta be a biiiit more patient, huh?” It sighs, settling in the chair by his bedside and waving a hand for more food and another tray to appear. “Doesn't matter. You're not going anywhere, anytime soon. Or, ever.” The Beast grins, picking a blueberry off the tray and holding it out in offer, to which he raises a hand to take. “You never asked for the price.”

“I'll pay anything.” He says, getting the Beast to giggle once again.

“Even your life?” The Beast leans over him, head tilting at an impossible angle. He only blinks. He'd assumed he wasn't living long anyways. He doesn't know why the Beast kept waking him up, but it probably wasn't going to last. It'd get bored of him, and he'd be gone. He's pretty sure anyhow. He'd already accepted it, and he's okay with it. He had fun. “You'll trade away ownership of your entire soul, just for a few measly bites of soup?”

Was it really only soup that he's been given? It doesn't matter much either way. He doesn't really have anything better waiting for him. He's a kid without an adult, and that means he's got nothing and no place in the world. He nods, because he can't even say no if he wanted to. It's far too late for that.

The Beast is scary if you have a life to care about, he thinks. But when it smiles at him, he can't help but want to smile back. “What's your name, kid? Gotta know the name of my new toy!” He shakes his head.

He doesn't have a name. Not one he likes, and he's never really needed one. No one really ever wanted to know it before, so he pretended it didn’t exist. But it would be dumb not to answer the Beast. He mumbles some syllables, but his voice is giving out on him too. His vision is blurry, and his eyes feel heavy. But he's still awake. Barely.

“If you don't have a name, you just gotta make one up!” The Beast crows, picking another berry off the tray and pressing it into his mouth. There's a weird, cold feeling that passes through him when the Beast does that– and suddenly, he feels even droopier. “I love making up names, we can make it a game! We'll play when you wake up again, okaaay?”

He doesn't respond. He doesn't have time to. His eyes drift closed, and he falls into yet another deep sleep.

Living with the Beast is weird, but it's nicer than living like he had been. It's nicer than not living at all, too, so he doesn't mind how strange it is.

The Beast likes games, and half-truths, and lies. It makes sense, it's the Beast of Deceit, so he accepts that. He knows how to handle it. The lies are straightforward enough, and… really, he doesn't say as much, because the Beast wouldn't like it, but the Beast is probably the most honest adult he's ever met. Every other adult pretends they don't lie, and that's annoying. The Beast lies in almost every breath, and what it doesn't say normally matters more than what it does. It's easier to read, because it hides everything, and what it doesn't hide clearly doesn't matter.

He's probably the only one who thinks like that, though. The other cookies in the spire, and there are other cookies in the spire, seem not to get it like he does. They speak nice words, give a lot of lip service to the idea of deceit, but they don't seem to know what the Beast wants from them aside from that. They're all liars too, but not the honest kind. He knows the Beast finds them annoying, but that might be because the Beast doesn't hide that. The disinterested looks whenever they talk to it, the eyes always shifting elsewhere, the sudden interjections about topics that have nothing to do with whatever they were saying. He's not excluded from this treatment, but it's different sometimes.

Sometimes the Beast watches him with the extra eyes in its hair, when he talks to it. It'll look the same as it does when anyone else speaks, all bored and impatient, but it'll look at him. He learns to keep his attention on those eyes to read it, and occasionally the Beast will give him a flicker of a smile when it notices. He thinks the other cookies can't figure it out because they're adults, maybe. They're stuck thinking how they grew up thinking, and they don't really pay attention to the Beast unless he’s acting scary.

He's lucky, he thinks. He's the only kid in the spire, and the adults don't really take him seriously but they aren't outright mean. Most of the time. One time, someone yelled at him for bumping into them when they were carrying the laundry. It was a little scary, but they were probably right. It was a lot of work he'd made them undo. But the Beast hears everything in the spire, and before he could blink it was there between him and the adult, eerie smile on its face.

He doesn't know what happened to that cookie, but he assumes the Beast dealt with them the same way it deals with anything it doesn't really like. He was sent away before the Beast said anything, or did anything, led by strings on his arms. He doesn't really care, or think of it beyond the facts he knows. It doesn’t matter, because the Beast was just defending its things. It doesn’t like when other people mess with them, and so it intervenes.

He is one of the Beast’s things, so it keeps a closer eye on him. He isn't a follower of it like the other cookies. He listens to its teachings, learns how to lie and trick like everyone else, and he believes it's right about the truth and exactly how much it matters. But that's not blind faith, that's just because it is right. Everyone lies, but not everyone lies honestly. The Beast does, and so he believes it. But that's all secondary. He's not here by choice, but because he's paying a price. It's not a difficult price to pay, really, but it means something to him.

It means he finally belongs somewhere, because he belongs to something, and it's a something greater than himself and greater than any cookie. It's a Beast, and as a possession of the Beast it doesn't like when other cookies touch him. It's the same kind of care he affords his nicer clothes, the ones the Beast gifted him after he woke up to learn his new place in the world. They're only slightly different from what the Beast's acolytes wear, and he doesn't have to paint his face like some of them do, but it was made clear to him (and him alone) that they were because of his unique position of being a possession, not an acolyte.

It means a lot to him, but not much to the Beast, and that’s okay. He’s happy anyways, and being happy is still new to him.

Today marks three months of living with the Beast. Today, he finally manages to hold an illusion up for longer than two seconds, and the acolytes that had devoted themselves to teaching him the magic clap and cheer when he manages to move and the fake image moves with him.

It's a nicer image than he usually has. His strange new wings are hidden, and his face is more round and full. His eyes are more bright, and his hair is shorter, kinda wavy and shiny, not dull. It's how he remembers other kids looking, in the villages, with their adults to look after them. Scraped knees bandaged and everything. He was told to start small, and simple, and he didn't think this was all that much, but the acolytes praise him for such a “complex” illusion regardless.

He feels its presence before he sees it, but even if he hadn't he'd know it was there because the acolytes flinch back and their faces pinch a little tightly. They're scared of it, almost as much as they revere it. He doesn't think it's very scary, though. Not to him.

“Good morning.” He says, craning his head back as the Beast slides its hands onto his shoulders, smiling as much as he's able to match its grin. He's not very good at it yet, but he's getting better. The Beast has taught him how to smile, and he has things to smile about now. “I can cast illusions now.”

“I see, I see!” The Beast says, bright and happy, and it's probably true that it likes his progress. “It's almost very clever, you look like a normal little boy!” The Beast spins him around to face it and pinches his cheek, lightly. It doesn't like to damage him. It takes good care of its things. “Buuuuut, there's a problem.”

“A problem?” He asks, brow furrowing as his smile falls. The Beast nods, a serious frown on its face as its mismatched eyes drift closed. The eyes in its hair remain open, though.

“Yes, yes! A problem my followers should have noticed.” It sends an eerie grin their way, eyes narrow in a fake threat. They couldn't know the difference in play or reality, but he can tell. The eyes in the shadows are more honest than the eyes on the Beast's face. But then the Beast turns back to him, bright and cheery again. “You don't have a story!”

“A… story?” He asks, tilting his head. Stories are fun things, his favorite things the Beast shares. They're grand and exciting, or scary and intriguing, but he also likes the simple ones. The acolytes talking about their work spreading chaos and making cookies fight through deceit is very fun to listen to, and makes him eager for the day he can join in on the fun.

“Yep!” The Beast confirms, sweeping him up into the air, spinning around as it catches him again. The acolytes always get very scared when it does that to him, but he has wings. If the Beast drops him, and it won't unless he bores it, then he can catch himself. He won't crumble like they would. He wonders if that's why he got them. “You, my clever little cookie, lack a story. Your character is just as nondescript and bland as any other brat running around a village! And while that's okay, if you're not gonna talk to anyone, what happens when you have to?”

He thinks for a moment, pressing his finger to his chin like he's seen the Beast do when it thought very hard, or at least was acting like it was thinking really hard. “I… won't act how I look?” He guesses, to which the Beast whoops and tosses him into the air again.

“You won't know how to act!” The Beast asserts, drifting back down to drop him back on the ground. He lands on his feet, and ignores the acolytes trying to steady him and check him for bruises as he watches the Beast. “You need a name and a story for every disguise, kid. The story informs the illusion! You can't just look the part, because if you act differently from how you look you'll be caught immediately. Now, what do you think you'd name this one?”

He looks down at himself with a furrowed brow, and thinks. This isn't really an illusion to hide himself. His hair just looks how he'd like it to, and his eyes look how he wishes they would, if anything… this was just himself, but better. It was simple as a disguise, but wouldn't work because he can't be himself but better. There's no name or story to it, because he still doesn't have a name or story for himself. For practice, it works. But he understands what the Beast is saying. He has the spell down, he just needs to learn how and when to use it.

“It wouldn't work, there isn't a point.” He responds, quickly ruffling his hair to dispel it with a small huff. “I start with the story, and then form the illusion.” He mutters, squeezing his eyes shut and crossing his arms over himself.

The story… maybe, somewhere he knows. Setting, then plot. The village he used to live in, maybe. It was the only real place he knew of. They're a community of metalworkers, mostly. He could be… a smithy's son. They were always covered in soot, and had burned fingers. They would clean the forges as chores. He probably hates his dad for it, because it's hard work, and he's got enough money to always have food so he gets to play with other kids. He's probably a little bossy, and loud. He wouldn't know it though.

He casts the new illusion, and looks over himself with an appraising glance. Sturdier clothes, meant for work and play. Burnt fingers. Hair tied back, because longer hair was bad in the forge. Scraped knees, but not bandaged, and dirt staining his shirt. He's a normal kid, but he's not himself. He's…

“I'm Roasted Grape Cookie!” He declares, voice loud and firm, crossing his arms as he glares up at the Beast. “My dad's the best smith in town, and one day I'm gonna be just like him!” He declares, pointing at himself with a thumb as he grins with unearned pride.

It's fun. It's even more fun when the Beast coos at him. “You caught on fast! You've got a knack for it, kid!” The acolytes give similar praise, but he doesn't really care about what they think. The Beast is the only one who matters, here. “Think you wanna take it out for a spin?”

He can feel his heart leap to his throat, and he nods fervently. The Beast snatches him up again, and then they are gone.

“You're so mean!” The little girl cries, stomping her foot on the ground as she huffs and puffs. “I told you that in secret!” She hisses, eyes narrowed into a glare.

He doesn't really react, dull bored expression copied directly from the Beast as he rubs at a stain on his shirt. The boy standing with him sneers, points at her and snickers as the other girl beside him grins with malice. He's not part of this scene, not really, but he's been working on setting it up for a couple weeks now. The Beast wanted to see what he could do, how well he could act and deceive, and he wanted to show off a little bit.

The easiest way to deceive, really, is by not doing so at all. He likes the girl, Pecan Cookie, well enough. She was easy to get along with, and really trusting. She knew a lot about every kid in town, and talking to her gave him plenty to work with. It's honest to say, her friendship was beneficial.

None of how he treated her was much of an act, except he told her all the lies about who he was and who his “dad” was. The Beast took on a disguise here, too, to play the role of the father Roasted Grape was meant to have, but it hasn’t done much itself. Just because it had expected this game to take some time, and it has.

But the boy next to him, Baked Brie Cookie, and the girl beside him, Fruit Curd Cookie, were easier to fool. Fruit Curd Cookie was fun, a gossip who knew more about the adults world than any other kid, and Baked Brie was just your run of the mill bully who wanted to impress the girl he likes. They gave him the antagonists of the scene, and Pecan gave him the protagonist. He was just a witness to it.

“Aw, is little Pecan embarrassed?” Fruit Curd asks, giving Pecan a once over before turning her nose up. “Well, she's right to be. You're certainly not in the best shape, now are you?”

Pecan flushes, pulling down on the hem of her shirt to hide herself in it. Insulting her looks isn't clever, nor relevant to the discussion, but he can't really say he expected anything more from her. Fruit Curd is about as smart as her namesake, and copies her mother in most all of her mannerisms. You don't get much out of a vapid egoistic trophy wife of a mother, especially when you don't have any of her charm to make up for it.

“It's alright, Pecan! Roasted Grape didn't tell us everything about your crush on Sandie Cookie!” Baked Brie Cookie laughs, now, pointing and jeering some more. They're not alone on the street, but that's all the better. The kids and their parents bear witness, and in the shadows blue eyes watch carefully. For now, this is just playground drama.

“But you have to know, for a kid like you, with a mother like yours…” Fruit Curd sniffs, but that's what Roasted Grape was counting on. Pecan was a Momma's girl, through and through. Given it's only them in their house, with her father having passed a few years ago, there's a strength in their bond that means any insult to one was an attack to the other. Ordinarily this doesn't mean much, Pecan isn't a very bitter girl, and she doesn't have a mean bone in her body.

But Pecan Cookie spent a couple weeks with him, just as much as he'd spent a few weeks with her. That means she's learned things from him, and those things could be… about as true as they need to be, no one will care if they’re lies. Fruit Curd's mother is a vapid woman, but she's certainly a popular and well-known one. Evidence isn't much needed, when half the women in this square have vendettas against her for much more personal and petty reasons.

“At least my mother doesn't sleep with any man who looks at her sideways!” Pecan shouts back, face red and fists clenched at her sides. Fruit Curd flinches back as if struck, eyes wide and mouth gaping, Baked Brie wearing a similar expression. Attention was on them before, but that was the dull attention of parents trying to keep their kids away from a bad crowd. The attention now is sharp, focused. Everyone loves gossip. “I've heard she's the reason Baked Brie's mother is leaving!”

She's not, but no one knows that Baked Brie's mother is only leaving temporarily. She was only leaving to visit her mother while she was on her deathbed, and would be back in a fortnight. The only one to know that was Baked Brie, until he'd told Roasted Grape a few days ago. The last piece of this carefully crafted puzzle. Fruit Curd said the whole town was all abuzz when they saw her prepping a cart for one, and he'd only needed to fill in the blanks for them.

“Wait– she isn't, I swear!” Fruit Curd cries, but it reads as extra guilty. Even though Baked Brie knows, there's doubt planted there. When Roasted Grape had gotten the information out of him, he'd also planted that seed. Are you sure your mom isn't lying? It's a question every kid has in their mind, but when voiced it's brought to the front.

“I- I gotta go.” Baked Brie mutters, before hurrying away. Pecan has tears in her eyes, but she spares no second glance as she looks at who she thought was Roasted Grape, her friend, and turns away huffily. Fruit Curd stands out, still gaping, before stumbling and reaching for Roasted Grape.

“It's, it's not true! My mother is a socialite, high class, graceful! She's– she's not–” She stammers, but he only steps away. He doesn't need to say anything for her face to shatter. She's not the focus of this scene. The parents, now muttering amongst themselves, are.

Well, I've always expected.

She's always been a bit too friendly with my husband, you know.

I sure hope she's not why my husband seems so distracted lately…

He hides his smile carefully as he walks away, even knowing he's no longer the one all eyes are on. Can’t drop the act too soon.

Poor girl, imagine having a mother like that!

And one girl, who knows all the adult gossip in town, will now know what it's like to be entrenched in it.

“What a show!” He smiles as his hair is ruffled, illusion dropping the moment he's walked deep enough into shadows to not be seen. “Took some time, but I'm impressed with the payoff! Who knew a kid could play an entire town for fools with schoolyard drama!” The Beast laughs, lifting him up and settling him on its hip, pinching his cheek. “You'll be a force to be reckoned with when you're older, that's for sure! Just need a little refinement, and imagine how many rumors you'll craft!”

He grins, finally able to match the enthusiasm of the Beast properly. The exhilaration of success makes his wings flutter, and he can't help but laugh too. “I'll put on the best shows!” He declares, spreading his arms wide. “Even more rumors! Even bigger effects! I'll make them so entertaining, you'll never need anyone else!”

“That's the spirit!” The Beast laughs some more. “If you can do that, kid, you'll be indispensable.” It's not true, but it makes his wings flap more regardless. He wants to be indispensable. He wants to belong to the Beast forever. Especially if he can make the Beast smile with even the eyes in the shadows, like now, all the time. He wants the Beast to watch him, and be proud.

“I picked a name.” He lets out in a rush, before he loses this moment. Before he loses all of the eyes being on him, the grin only for him. “I found a name I liked, and it's mine.”

“Oho?” The Beast pauses in its laughter, bouncing him slightly to raise him a little higher on its hip. “Well, let me hear it! Be warned, if it's boring, I won't let you keep it.”

“Black Sapphire Cookie,” He says, grinning brightly. They're his favorite, both the grapes and the stones, and Shadow Milk said that his name should be something he felt was right. It feels right, more right than anything, and it makes him feel special. Like a treasure. Like something worth something. And now, he's done something to feel like he's earned it. “That's my name.”

“Black Sapphire Cookie,” the Beast echoes, humming thoughtfully, spinning them around in circles until he starts to feel dizzy. “Not boring at all! Perfect name for a showman.”

They leave for home, after watching a bit more of the fallout together. Fruit Curd's mom had a storm waiting for her when she got home from her tea parties and gossip circles, most certainly. Seems Baked Brie isn't the only kid with only one parent left, now. Poor Fruit Curd.

Black Sapphire Cookie snickers alongside his Beast, as it recounts the tale for the acolytes who had been waiting for their return.

After half a year or so of living with the Beast, it brings back something… interesting.

Black Sapphire wonders for a while what it is, as he works on sweeping the dorms for the acolytes. He'd seen his Master bundle the thing in its arms away, bristle at the acolytes questions, and he'd wondered. Whatever could make it so defensive? It doesn't tend to hide away its things, it's normally quite happy to show off its treasures. Then again, the things that truly matter, the things that it wants absolutely no one to touch, it keeps hidden away for some time.

Black Sapphire, himself, was a treasure it had hidden away for some time.

He wonders. But he doesn't have to wonder for long, as when he finally finishes his work and gets the clear from the head acolyte to go back to his room, his Master is already there, sitting on his bed with the thing bundled in its arms.

It fills Black Sapphire with delight to be trusted with something precious like this, because it must be precious if his Master is hiding it away. It may not be trust, really. His Master doesn't trust, but it does know things. Like how Black Sapphire wants it to be proud of him, and wants its sole attention, and wants to prove himself. It doesn't have to trust him to know he will do what it needs of him, and besides that what use would he have of any precious thing his Master shows off? He is one of those precious things, too.

“My Lord,” Black Sapphire greets, stooping into a very slight bow, eyes gracefully closed. He's been learning, carefully curating his image as a showman, practicing his manners and his speech carefully. The acolytes think he's playing, or about half of them do. The other half are jealous and vile, speaking words about his vanity and his attitude he doesn't repeat. Is it any wonder why their numbers are thinning, when they know the Beast is always listening? It doesn't matter. He only cares about the Beast's opinion, and the Beast, his Master, loves a good show.

“Get over here, Sapphy, get a look!” His Master raises one hand to beckon him over, and Black Sapphire lets the decorum he'd gathered fall and be replaced by a bright smile and curious eyes. He hurries forward, clambering onto the bed in his rush, and peers at the thing in his Masters arm with wonder. “Look at this little doughball!” His Master coos.

Black Sapphire stares, face twisting as if he'd eaten a lemon. Bright red eyes, too big for such a small face, stare up at him as the palest, doughiest baby he's ever seen smiles like it doesn't even have a brain to think. “It's small.” He says, because it's true. It's also the smallest baby he's seen, absolutely tiny. It's tiny and frail and what use is it? Why would his Master think of it as some precious thing, when it didn't have any chance to have earned it?

“She certainly is!” His Master says, before promptly shifting her around. “But look, look!” It unbundles her, slightly, and Black Sapphire can already see the carefully sewn outfit denoting her status as the Beast's possession on her tiny frail body. It matches his outfit, detail for detail. It makes him feel like scowling, but he knows better than to let that show. But as it moves her, gently turning her over and plying the little blanket away, Black Sapphire finally sees what his Master wanted him to.

A pair of tiny, slightly crumpled, bat-like wings. A pair like Black Sapphire's wings, something no other cookie in the spire possesses, and something Black Sapphire hasn't seen on anyone else before. His face eases into shock, and when his Master bundles her up again he leans closer to look her over with new eyes.

His Master had said the wings were a sign, a physical and tangible change that shows how receptive he was to its unique magic. Whether it's true or not, he knows that the wings took him a lot of time to grow. If the baby already has them, and she's just met his Master, then she must be really suited for their work. Maybe she was even born with them!

She blinks, and giggles, and she's… cute, for a baby. He smiles, just a little. She smiles even wider.

“Her name is Candy Apple Cookie,” his Master says, nudging Black Sapphire's shoulder with his arm and nodding at the way its arms were positioned to get him to copy it. “The newest cookie in my collection. How about that, Saph? Exciting?”

His Master passes Candy Apple Cookie along, careful to ease her into Black Sapphire's hold, adjusting his arm for him so that she's supported properly. Black Sapphire finds himself unable to look away.

His Master grins. “Now, I don't want all those fools out there to overwhelm her, but I can't dedicate all my time to baby chores. I'm a busy busy guy, so, I have something to ask you.”

Black Sapphire raises his head, but only for a moment. Candy Apple giggles again and he finds himself staring at her again, smiling softly. “Anything you need, Master.”

“I need a list, no more than five cookies, of the acolytes most able to keep their lips sealed. You're good with rumors, so you have a good idea who's useless with them, right?” Black Sapphire nods along. He's already rooting through the options, but some of them would be poor caretakers. Some of them were probably already discarded. “You'll have a week. As far as any of them know, I'm already gone. Left to terrorize another land, maybe pester the faeries again. You breathe a word of this to no one. Candy Apple Cookie is our little secret, got it?”

“Of course, Master,” Black Sapphire says. He would never risk the safety of such a precious thing, nevermind the fact that she was also one of the Beast's possessions just like him.

Candy Apple grows fast, and grows out of each uniform his Master sews for her even faster. By the time she is two years old she knows its face better than anyone else's, and she babbles and giggles with extra enthusiasm when it visits her. He could admit to a little flicker of jealousy, when he sees it give her attention, but that would be too honest of him.

He likes her well enough, when she's sleeping mostly. She seems to like him, too, because she tends to reach for him when he visits, and she laughs when he picks her up to twirl her around much like his Master does to him when it's proud. She's a sweet little thing, and maybe a little violent. For as frail as she looks, she's got strength in her that's impressive. She also tends to bite.

Black Sapphire has, also, by now grown out of multiple uniforms. He's not quite done growing, his Master has said that it'll be a number of years before he reaches his full height, but he's almost as tall as his Master now. His Master hardly stands on the floor long enough to notice, but he's always got his eyes open to see.

That's why it's such a surprise when his Master sweeps into his room with a rack draped with fabric. Candy Apple is there too, because he'd spirited her away for storytime, and to bother her caretakers especially. They'd tried to shoo him away earlier! They said she was due for her nap, and couldn't play, as if he was looking for her to play! He doesn't play with babies, they're not good at the games he likes, he just wanted to see her.

“Oh, good, Candy's here too! That makes this easier!” His Master declares, before pulling the cloth draped over the rack away. Black Sapphire blinks, staring with wonder at the array of clothes there. Most of them are his size, but there are a few smaller outfits. Onesies and dresses, some shorts and shirts, for an active little girl who's busy scampering about all day. Though, admittedly, he pays more attention to the clothes in his size.

They're all in shades of purple, some darker and some lighter, black, or white. There's suits and shirts and pants and, even, a couple options of dresses for him if he wanted them, though they're not quite his taste. They're all, he notices, primed to match his own most precious possession, a set of earrings he'd stolen just a few months back. (Oh, his Master had laughed when he'd returned from his mission with bloody ears and his pretty namesakes dangling from them, but it had never told him not to wear them.)

“I had a bit of extra time on my hands, and I didn't want to get out of practice with my costume design!” The Beast says, lifting Candy Apple out of Black Sapphires lap and waving him to get moving. Black Sapphire dives into the clothes eagerly, heart pounding in his throat. “Take what you like, leave the rest! The costume makes the character, and an uncomfortable costume is useless.”

It reminds him of his first haircut, really. The Beast taking him aside, declaring it wanted to play a game, and then cutting his hair as a “punishment” for him losing the game. If it were meant to be a punishment, then it probably wouldn't have made sure he liked it before it darted off again. But the Beast was just like that, and Black Sapphire knew it well; it doesn't want its possessions to look unkempt, but doesn't want them to mistake it for care.

It is care, of a sort. A care for its things, but not them as people.

Black Sapphire picks a suit, ultimately. He's comfortable in it, and it makes him feel confident. He's meant to be a showman, so he's got to look the part. His Master claps and cheers for his choice, and then he helps it pick out a dress Candy Apple likes. It's a bit of a laborious process– Candy Apple is not cooperative in the least, and maybe a little cranky because she's missed her nap, but ultimately in the end everything is fine.

He's tired out after fighting her about getting dressed again, and so when she falls asleep, he doesn't carry her back to her room with her caretakers. He lies down on his bed beside her and sleeps too. His Master sits on the bed and watches them, but he'll never say he knew it did. It always ignores those accusations, so clearly, it doesn't want him to bring them up.

His Master is a capricious man, but he's never harmed them.

He could. It's impossible to forget that he could. But for all of the bluster and threats, he never has. Black Sapphire is scared of him in a rational manner, it's wrong to forget that Shadow Milk is scary for good reason, but it's hard to let that really paint how he looks at him.

Candy Apple, herself, knows this too. She has a similar view to him, though, where their Master is very scary, but is nothing to be scared of. Wary, cautious, but not scared. And even then, the worst part of upsetting him isn't his reactionary threats and the weight of potential punishment. It's the fact that they've upset him at all that weighs most heavily on them; the punishment, ordinarily, is just a ”fun” bonus.

It has been seven years since Black Sapphire has met Shadow Milk, and six-and-a-half since Candy Apple had joined them. She's only become more energetic and cheerful in that time, but that's typical of children. She has been raised, mostly, by her caretakers, who give her good lessons on how grateful she should be to their Master, but Black Sapphire has helped more as she gets older and more capable in her own right. He's the one who teaches her to craft illusions, and she takes to it like a duck to water. Shadow Milk was so proud of the both of them, he'd given them enough sweets to last a season.

She has a bit more “worship”, if you wanted to choose that word, for their Master. Her image of him is skewed, as she's only truly seen the best of him. His better moods, his false kindness, with his wrath never directed at her. Up until now, that is.

Black Sapphire holds her as their Master rages, throws his cavalier threats around as his hair writhes and seeps and the eyes move like static. He's erratic and hard to watch, but it's easy to hear him. Candy Apple doesn't cry, she's about as good at it as Black Sapphire is, which is to say not good at all. But she watches with a trembling frame, up until Shadow Milk lets out the last of his curses and fumes and disappears into the shadows.

It's a simple mistake, but Shadow Milk is capricious and particular. He lets his anger build until small things break it to pieces, and he releases it in large bursts of wreckage and terror when an unfortunate soul trips over the last straw. Black Sapphire has been the one to manage it in the past and most certainly will continue to do so in the future, but today it is Candy Apple's proper introduction to the receiving end.

“Is he going to get rid of me?” She asks, her voice tiny, clutching onto Black Sapphire's arm tightly. “Does he hate me now?” She hiccups, and now tears fill her eyes, the fear crashing over her and sweeping her sense away.

“Of course not,” Black Sapphire responds. To hate them, Shadow Milk would have to truly care about them. In their Master’s mind they're not cookies that their Master can hate or love, they're tools he feels apathetic towards at best. You can't hate a tool until it's broken, and they are far from it. “If he hated you, you would be crumbs. Are you crumbs?”

“N-no,” Candy Apple sniffles, but the tears start falling regardless. “But, but–!” She starts, peering up at Black Sapphire with one of her rare frowns. She's almost always smiling, and Black Sapphire finds it annoying sometimes, but today he finds he misses it.

“He doesn't hate you.” Black Sapphire asserts, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing tightly. He feels her tears soak through his suit coat, and although he finds that incredibly annoying he doesn't comment on it. He'll complain later, after she's better. “Let's clean up this mess, now, shall we?”

She nods, but doesn't let go of him immediately. It takes a bit of cajoling to get her to at least switch to just holding his hand, so they could still work. It's still difficult to do, she's not the most helpful when she has to stop every minute or so to cry and pester him about if he was sure Shadow Milk didn't hate her, but acting was among Black Sapphire's most treasured skills. Pretending to be patient works just as well in place of the real thing, when Candy Apple is too distressed to really notice the difference.

It seems to her, the scariest thing in the world is Shadow Milk's disapproval. Black Sapphire can't really blame her, either. There's nothing more distressing than their Master's bored expression twinged with irritation, all of his eyes looking away at anything else. Let alone annoying him enough to set him into a mood, just that much was terrible enough.

So, Black Sapphire stays with her even though she's incredibly annoying about it. He even promises that they'll go play in the snow together later, just to get her to smile again. It almost works.

“Dodge this!” Candy Apple shouts with a shrieking giggle, grin wide and eyes blazing with manic glee as she tosses a snowball the size of a rock directly at his head. Black Sapphire dives, rolling in the snow to crouch behind a tree, and watches as with a loud thunk the snowball hits a fallen trunk. Revealing, of course, that it was a rock, just with snow packed around it.

“You are insane!” Black Sapphire hisses, not daring to peek out from behind his hiding place in case she has more of those rocks on her side. He should have guessed that when he suggested they have a snowball fight, she'd take it much too seriously. Another thunk shakes the tree he's hidden behind, and he debates bolting right that second.

“You're being ridiculous, it's just a little snow!” Candy Apple lies, giggling some more. At the very least, she's in a good mood now. It might cost him his life, though, so it wasn't really worth it. “Come out, come out!”

She's a terror, through and through.

Black Sapphire leaps back to his feet and undoes his jacket enough to unfurl his wings, even as the cold makes him wince. There's not enough strength in them to have him really fly, but a couple flaps will give him a boost when he jumps. He uses that to grab the lowest hanging branch, pulling himself up rather ungracefully before jumping up to the next. The extra eye hidden in his hair, a new addition circa about a month ago, blinks open to search for another escape route as he glances down to find her. He normally keeps it closed because it's hard to process the weird things it does to his sight, plus it was really light sensitive and gave him migraines all the time, but if he had it he might as well use it.

But alas, this isn't a good place to practice, because with another shriek of laughter and another thud the tree quivers, and Black Sapphire wobbles on his feet unsteadily. “Hey! You're going to kill me!” He snaps down at her, reaching up to make another jump before she shakes the tree again, but the thing they don't tell you about eyes in weird places is that they really skew distance.

He swears, he's never going to try to use them again. He doesn't know how Shadow Milk can do it– another clear sign of his superiority to mortal cookies, noted.

“I've got you!” Candy Apple has the wherewithal to sound concerned, at least, when she sees him start to fall. It's a combination of her acting as a decently soft landing pad and the furious flaps of his semi-useless wings that keeps him from getting hurt. And upon checking, because Shadow Milk would crumble him if Candy Apple showed up with anything like a broken arm, other than being annoyed and rumpled a little she's perfectly fine too.

“We should practice more with falls,” Black Sapphire says, after he's stood and extended a hand to help her up. “And, probably, basic logic. You're like, half my size. You're strong, but there was no way you were going to catch me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Candy Apple grumbles, accepting his hand up with a whine. “I so was gonna! I was right there, you just fell wrong.”

“Even if I fell right, you would have just been in the way,” Black Sapphire flicks her forehead before turning and walking away. He does his best to make it calm and careless, and not look like he was running away. Though, to be clear, he was running away. She's proven capable of lethal aim with heavy projectiles. Any sane person would run away from her.

“Hey!” And there was his cue to dive behind the next nearest set piece. Another rock, this time not even covered in snow to hide it, whirrs past him just as he changes direction. “Stop hiding! You hit me, so now I get to hit you!”

“I flicked you, and you're trying to bash my head in with a rock! That isn't in any way an equal exchange!” Black Sapphire dashes to the next tree trunk to hide behind, crouching down to gather some snow into a ball. He slowly breathes, in and then out, closing his eyes as he casts a small spell on the snowball. Nothing big, just something to ensure accuracy. He can’t do much without a wand or staff, but he’s pieced some simpler things together from when he happened upon magic users when out rumor crafting. Without looking, he tosses the Snowball around the trunk. By the shocked squeal he hears in the immediate after, it hits his target.

“You got snow in my coat!” Candy Apple whines. Black Sapphire snickers, covering his mouth with a hand to muffle it. It doesn't really help him, she already knows where he is. That much is made clear moments later, when she tackles him and they go tumbling.

They're both laughing, doing their best to cover the other in the most snow they could manage, absolutely forgetting the point of their jackets are to keep them warm and dry. They're having fun, and not paying particular attention to their surroundings. That is, very certainly, a mistake.

They hear a click, an unnatural noise in the otherwise silent snowy forest.

They freeze, Candy Apple even forgetting to shake off the pile of snow on her head, Black Sapphire still holding another handful ready to add. He slowly turns his head, eyes wide, wings slowly tucking back into their place hidden under his coat. It's too late, though.

“Well, what do we have here?” The cookie who speaks is vaguely familiar, but not in any way Black Sapphire can place. He's seen many cookies over the years, and forgotten pretty much all of them, because of the work he's done spreading deceit for Shadow Milk Cookie. There's nothing particularly memorable about any of them, even the ones he liked were only temporary additions to his life. Unimportant in the larger scheme. Maybe, that was a mistake to think. “A couple of monsters, exactly as the rumors say. A couple of cookies that aren't cookies at all, demons in service of Deceit.”

Black Sapphire frowns. He's never heard of such rumors, nor did he think they ever were seen outside of the Spire in their true forms. There shouldn't be anyone who knew they existed– apart from the acolytes, though they should have no reason to share that information. And demons, really? How unoriginal. He could have done so much better.

The crossbow leveled at them is in need of more attention and caution than a bland rumor, though. “Surely, you're mistaken.” Black Sapphire says smoothly, dropping the snow he held to the side and raising his hands in a gesture meant to be placating as he turns to face the hunter. The hunter tenses, teeth gritting as she steadies her aim. Directly at his forehead, with her finger on the trigger. There's not a single chance he's fast enough to dodge at this range, even if there were a good few yards between them he knew how fast a bolt could travel, but he's not too worried. He is good with words, and it's better him than Candy Apple. She's never been at the end of a weapon before, and it's hard to keep calm enough when it's your first time.

“Yeah! We're not demons.” Candy Apple spits, drawing the hunters attention, and thus her aim. Black Sapphire glares at her, gestures with his hand for her to shut up, but he's forgotten a simple thing; Candy Apple is not familiar with fear, and doesn't have any self preservation instinct whatsoever. “We're just kids!” Black Sapphire quickly shoves his hand into her face, covering her mouth. It's too late for much use, but if he can keep her quiet, he may be able to salvage this.

“You are monsters!” The hunter hisses, stepping forward with firm, measured steps. “You ruin lives with your silver tongues and pretty illusions, twisting words into disasters with zero remorse! You were crafted by the Beast to destroy us all while you wore the faces of friends and allies!” She barks, practically frothing with rage. “And you!” She snaps, focusing her rage on Black Sapphire. “You destroyed my life!” Her voice cracks, with anger and grief.

Now, that doesn't narrow things down at all. He's ruined a lot of people's lives, and he doesn't make a point to remember each individual he creates problems for. Explains why she's familiar, but if he can't place a name to her face he can't talk her down. This is a personal vendetta, not simply a hunter making another crack at stopping the Beast's as he'd originally thought.

“I'm not sure I know what you're talking about,” Black Sapphire says, smiling sedately. Unbothered, untouchable. Sure, point the bolt at him, press the trigger. What will killing him do? Is there any satisfaction if he feels no remorse, if he doesn't beg for mercy? It's the only card he has, really. Hoping that killing him won't be good enough for her. Hoping that she wants him brought low before the fall. “I don't even know who you are, so I don't think I could have ruined your life. Must be thinking of some other monster.”

Implying there are more of them, that she is fighting a losing battle, that she has the wrong demons. Depending on who she got her information from, it may work. It may not. Her finger stays steady on the trigger, her aim doesn't waver. Even if the idea is planted and takes root, she may have decided any is better than none. Or this is only an endeavor in revenge. He may be mistakenly attributing virtue to a cookie who holds none.

“No, no. I know it was you.” Her voice quivers in a low growl, and she stops her approach there. Between two trees, blocking the barely-visible last rays of the setting sun, the snow falling down and gently landing to dust the bolt in white. She cuts an imposing figure, for all that she can't be too much taller than him. She's not an adult herself, he realizes. He should have guessed, he normally works among his age group given it's easier than the alternative, but it was hard to tell at first. “You want to pretend you don't remember me? Fine. But you're getting what's coming to you, one way or another.”

She proceeds to say some more, a tirade Black Sapphire only pays the barest amount of attention to. There's nothing in it that can help them, no tidbit to latch on and keep her talking. The longer she talks, the longer he has to think, the longer they have to get out of here, but she doesn't leave much room for conversation. Her speech is rehearsed, clearly, and she doesn't even take a breath. There's no opportunity without interrupting her, and while he's not opposed to taunting his opponents he kind of needs an upperhand to do so safely.

Candy Apple is no help. She's a fearsome little thing, but she can't outrun a bolt. Her rock throwing, which he'd only half-jokingly called lethal, would choreograph itself before the rock even touched her hand, and the bolt would fire before it could leave her fingers. They're too far for her to do anything, and even if they were close enough, she's probably not strong enough to face a teenage hunter that definitely has more practice and strength than the both of them. Despite all of these things, she's twitchy, glaring defiantly at their antagonist with no restraint. It's taking a lot of effort just to keep her down and quiet, effort that could have been better spent at finding an escape or something.

Not that, ultimately, they needed to figure this out themselves.

There is no real warning; she's reaching the climactic conclusion of her speech, voice raising as she declares that he would regret ever using her as a pawn, when a loud snarl cuts her off. It's the only warning anyone gets, but it's not an unfamiliar sound. Black Sapphire immediately pulls Candy Apple closer, tucking her face into his chest and covering her ears, making sure she doesn't witness the worst of it. Even as she tries to push him away and tug his hands off her ears, this is one thing he's pretty sure he doesn't want her to have a clear memory of. Not until she's older, anyhow. The hunter freezes, and whirls to look behind her, but it's already much too late for that. Before she can even catch a glimpse of what made that awful noise, the jaws snap shut around her.

A giant, hulking monster with canines sharp as glass and as big as his forearm stands there, growling viciously as it shakes its prey so quickly it's all just a blur. Jam spatters the scenery, though doesn't quite reach him and Candy Apple where they sat, and the air fills with the too-sweet scent. The snap and crunch of the body as the monster tosses it around only to snatch it up again, mutilating the already quite dead hunter until she were only a pile of mushy, jam-soaked crumbs. The monster leaves it abandoned there, jaws dripping jam and hot saliva as its eyes, uncountable eyes, narrow on the two huddling children.

Then in a blur of movement and color, the monster is gone. In its place floats their dear Master, who scrunches his face in disgust as he wipes his mouth on his sleeve. He's still covered in the hunter’s jam, but that's probably intentional. If he wants it gone, he only needs to snap his fingers. Not even that, really.

Black Sapphire lets his hold on Candy Apple loosen, lets her push him away with her bratty complaints. He doesn't really pay her much attention, focused more on fighting the snow to get to his feet as Shadow Milk approaches. Candy Apple, when she sees him, forgets entirely his bad mood and fit of anger earlier and hops to her feet with excited screeching. He's not quite sure if he should be grateful that she's yet to notice the pile of viscera or not, given the reason she hasn't is because Shadow Milk comes to a stop not a few feet away, too-wide smile sickly sweet and the eyes in the shadows narrowed and trembling.

“What a surprise to find you kids out here!” Shadow Milk says, voice thick with false cheer, his grin stained pink. “What made you think you could leave the Spire?” Shadow Milk's head tilts, eyes unblinking, his focus freezing Black Sapphire in place. Though it would be stupid not to answer him.

“I wanted to take Candy Apple to play in the snow,” Black Sapphire says, placing his hands on Candy Apple's shoulders and pulling her back, keeping her from launching herself at their Master. Overly excitable, entirely too clingy, and loud were not traits Shadow Milk would appreciate at the moment. “I lost track of time.”

“Indeed you have! And, you realise, you endangered my possessions! If you were going to come out here, you should have considered paying attention to your surroundings.” Shadow Milk scowls, fists clenching tightly as he drops the cheery facade. Though, for only a moment, as he drifts back with a laugh and a wide smile. “How fortunate I was in the area, right? Lucky, lucky you!”

Black Sapphire remains silent, but Candy Apple smiles brightly and nods vigorously. “Very lucky!” She chirps, trying to wiggle out of Black Sapphire's hold. “But I wasn't scared one bit! I knew my sweet, perfect Master Shadow Milk would never let that nasty cookie get away with bothering us!”

“I don't like when other cookies mess with my things, you know this.” Shadow Milk says dismissively, crossing his arms and closing his eyes as he shakes his head. Jam drips off of him at the movement. “So, I think we need to establish a new rule.” He opens one eye, narrowed at Black Sapphire. “No more leaving the spire without a weapon, and only with permission from me. Got it?”

The eyes in the shadows soften, the trembling stilling. Black Sapphire can relax, then, because now he can recognize the expression. Worry. Anger, too, of course, but Shadow Milk had been worried. It would be stupid to look happy when he's being scolded, so he doesn't let it show, but something warm floods through him at the thought of his Master actually worrying. Still, he ducks his head with the shame expected of him, swallows a lump in his throat that isn't actually there, and nods slowly.

“Glad you understand!” Shadow Milk coos, waving an arm to open a shadowy portal and jerking his head to gesture for them to move along. Black Sapphire lets Candy Apple go first, she runs through with a happy giggle the moment his hands are off her shoulders, but when he moves to follow Shadow Milk's staff blocks his path. He pauses, looking up at his Master with a furrowed brow. “You could have done better.”

“I'm sorry.” Black Sapphire responds, automatic and thoughtless. He restrains his instinctive wince at the mistake, but Shadow Milk only raises a brow at him.

“Next time, don't jump to defend Candy so openly. You choreograph your care for her and make her a bigger target. You got lucky that this one was stupid and single-minded, anyone else would have shot her the moment you tried to defend her.” Shadow Milk lowers himself, to meet his eyes easier, face uncharacteristically flat and expressionless. “Don't make that mistake again.”

With that, he moves out of the way to allow Black Sapphire through the portal. He hesitates, though, for just a moment. Before crossing the threshold, he examines Shadow Milk one last time, just to be certain he’s seeing things right. Shadow Milk’s real eyes scan their surroundings, bored and distant, but the eyes in the shadows look over Black Sapphire carefully. Certainly they'd be more useful if they were also hunting, but instead he's looking at Black Sapphire as if expecting him to suddenly crumble. Hm.

Perhaps Shadow Milk cares more than Black Sapphire had originally thought.

Chapter Text

The dark and the quiet never bothers her, except for when it does. Normally she's not alone, so she normally doesn't think about it. She also knows she's very very safe, always safe, when she's in the spire. Her Master, her perfect, sweet, kind Master, is always watching. Watching, and listening, and thinking. So she knows that nothing can reach her, because he loves her, and he won't let anything break her.

But sometimes, it doesn't matter what she knows. Sometimes, her dreams like to lie to her, like to say she's in trouble or her Master hates her, and those nights? It doesn't matter whether she knows it's a lie or not, because scary dreams are loud. She'd normally have a caretaker with her, she's never left alone even when she sleeps, but she's a big girl now! They celebrated her fifth year at the spire just a few days ago, and they told her she didn't need them to stay with her so much anymore, so she's all alone.

It only takes a few words from her caretakers before she calms down from a scary dream, she only needs a tiny reminder that she's one of her Master's precious things before she remembers there's nothing that can hurt her. But all alone, in the dark, all she can see in the shadows are monsters waiting to eat her whole. She quivers and sniffles, tears running down her face as she pulls her blankets up to hide– hide from the shadows that should only bring her comfort.

“S-Sapphy…” she whimpers, choking down a sob as the shadows shift unnaturally. They never move naturally in the spire, it's just how home is, but she's only thinking about the monsters in her dream, indescribable things with sharp sharp teeth and big angry eyes. She tries to be quiet, to be still, to be small and hidden and uninteresting, but she wants to scream.

She wants to cry, wants to get up and run straight across the hall and into Sapphy’s room so he can hold her and make her feel safe again. But unlike the last few nights, her dreams have told her that if she tries to run, or scream, or do anything but hide in her bed, she will be eaten. She doesn't want to be eaten even more than she does want to scream, so she hides, and wishes wishes wishes that Sapphy would somehow know that she needs him, and save her from the monsters and her scary dreams and stay so the scary dreams don't get her again.

The shadows move again, and she flinches as she tucks the sheets over her head, with another broken sob muffled into her pillow. She's not good at being quiet, but she needs to be, or else she'll be eaten, and when her dear Master next wants to see her all he'll find is Sapphy sweeping up her crumbs. She can feel it, the monsters are getting closer, and closer, and they're right about to pounce–!

“Candy.” Her breath catches, eyes shooting open as she sits straight upright in her bed, whirling to face that voice. Because that voice isn't just any voice, but the voice of her Master, her savior, her most beloved most sweet most perfect favoritest Master in the entire universe. Her Master is here, here to save her, this is better than she wished for!

“Master!” She cries, immediately diving into his arms. Only, she misses, because she's all tangled in her blankets and he's not very close to her bed at all. Her Master loves her, though, so he waves his hand and floats her back onto her bed before she could even hit the ground.

“You're crying awfully loud, you know. Some cookies are trying to sleep!” Her Master says, floating upside down and over her bed, making her have to crane her neck rather awkwardly to still see him. But she's happy to see him, more than happy, so even if it makes her neck hurt she'll suffer it all if it means she doesn't have to look away! “What’s even got you so pathetic, anyways? You're normally pretty smiley.”

Candy Apple pulls her blanket up around her shoulders again, rubbing her face with a fistful of it to dry her tears. “My dreams lied to me again,” she says, looking up at her Master again with a wide smile. “I'm sooooo good at lying, I can't help but lie in my sleep too! It's not nice that it's all scary lies, though.”

“Scary lies, huh?” Her Master says, twisting himself midair and drifting down to sit on the edge of her bed. She holds her blankets tighter around herself, even though she really wants a hug. Especially if that hug was from her Master. But he's here, so that's enough. He's chased all the monsters away, and she'd like him to be able to do it again if they try to come back. He can't do that if she's distracting him. Then again, he's her perfect Master, and he can do anything so long as he wants to! Still, he doesn’t like being hugged, so she does her best to hug herself instead. “You shouldn't be letting your dreams tell you scary lies. Tears don't suit you.”

“I try not to! But it's hard when I'm all alone.” Candy Apple pouts, holding her blankets around herself tighter. “I wanna stay in Sapphy's room, I want my caretakers back, I don't wanna be a big girl anymore.” She feels tears trying to fall again, but she stubbornly refuses to let them. She's not a baby. She doesn't have any reason to cry, not even for a lie!

“But you were so excited to be a big girl, after all, Sapphy can't teach a little doughball how to cast illusions, and you can't go on missions until you can do that,” her Master says. She looks down, eyes burning. Sure, she wants to be a big girl, but why does that mean she has to be alone? She doesn't want to be alone even more than anything she's wanted in the whole world. Except maybe her Master's praise, but he can't exactly praise her if he's not around, right?

“I don't care,” she lies, but the quiver in her voice gives it away. “I don't wanna be a big girl, I don't care if I can't learn magic and tricks and lie to cookies outside the spire! I don't want it! I don't wanna be alone!” The tears fall as she shouts, but if she keeps her eyes tightly squeezed shut then they don't exist. She shakes, trembles, as she clings to her blanket, rubbing the soft fabric over her cheek over and over. Normally it helps her calm down, but it's not working tonight.

“Ah, there it is!” Her Master chuckles, though even the thought of seeing his beautiful smile can't stop her tears now. It can, however, make her open her eyes to look at him. “Now, how could you fall for that lie? You're more clever than that!” His grin is wide and his eyes sparkle like gems, but she can't read as well as Sapphy can. He's tried to teach her, but she just can't see what he sees. All she knows is her Master is smiling, and that's normally good enough for her. But she wants to know what he's smiling about, because she can't think of it herself now.

“What lie?” She sniffles. Her Master's grin widens further, and he leans forward to poke her on the nose, making her go cross-eyed for a moment.

“The lie that you're ever alone in the spire, silly!” Her Master giggles, springing back into the air with a slow twirl, the eyes in his hair closing as if it's laughing too. “The spire isn't just a building, you know! It's part of me, which means I'm always here. So long as you're in the spire you're never alone, even if you think you are.”

Candy Apple ducks her head, glancing away again, clinging tighter to her sheets. “... Okay. But I can't hug a wall when I have a scary dream, even though I'm not alone. So I might as well be.” She huffs. Her Master hums thoughtfully, drifting in small circles around her bed and rubbing his chin. She watches him, when he happens to drift into her vision, until he suddenly stops right in front of her again.

“How about this. You go back to sleep, and you stop crying for the night before you flood the place. I will have something ready before you go to bed tomorrow, so you won't be alone anymore. Okay?” Her Master says, and she hikes up her shoulders with displeasure but nods along anyways. It was more an order than a suggestion, after all. He likes to trip up his followers with orders phrased like nonorders all the time, so she knows that one.

“Okay. I'll sleep now.” Candy Apple grumbles, before crawling back to her pillow and flopping down with a dramatic sigh. “Goodnight, Master.” She mutters, voice muffled into her pillow, but she receives no response. She closes her eyes, heart heavy with the assumption that he's left already.

But before she could fully drift away she feels a hand stroke her hair, and she keeps herself still and her breathing even as the hand lingers. She counts a full ten seconds before the hand leaves, and then another five before the click of her door shutting tells her he left. He's always watching and listening, but with her face covered by her blankets she allows herself to smile.

Falling asleep is easy after that.

Candy Apple could never forget any time spent with her sweet, beloved Master, but she can forget his promises. Mostly because he doesn't normally mean them, and she can never really tell when he does versus when he doesn't. So she always always forgets if he promises something, because that way if it was one of the ones he meant it's a nice surprise!

So, yes, she technically knows he said he'd figure out how to solve her sleeping problem before she went to bed, but she doesn't really think about it. She doesn't expect it to be true. Her Master tells sweet lies all the time, and he was making sure she went back to sleep and stopped crying! Of course he would tell her something nice like that, but following through would be a waste of his time. He's a busy busy cookie, after all, and he never spends time with her alone anyways. He loves her, she knows this, but that's always been very distant and not really said or shown much.

She knows it. Her Master's followers always tell her so, and they're really bad at lying. They try to pretend they aren't, but they can't fool her! So if they say it, and she believes it, it has to be true. No matter how much Sapphy lies and tells her otherwise, no matter how much or how little attention her Master gives her, she knows.

It's the best surprise in the world when she gets back to her room after learning magic with Sapphy to find her Master hovering above her bed, sitting cross-legged and holding something hidden in his lap. She hops excitedly and squeals, wings and hands flapping before she can collect herself and run to her bed, climbing onto it and standing unsteadily on it to reach for her Master. It's an even better surprise when he reaches down for her, and picks her up!

She bites her tongue to keep from squealing again, knowing just how much Sapphy complains that the sound hurts when she's too close, but her wings can't stop flapping as Shadow Milk sets her in his lap, the object he'd been holding moved slightly out of the way so she had more room.

“Found this thing hopping around the halls earlier today,” Shadow Milk says, holding the object up and shaking it slightly for her to see. She gasps, eyes shining, at the sight of a small plush rabbit. It's not unlike the few she sometimes plays with in the garden, but this one has shiny button eyes in red, like hers! She reaches for it, and Shadow Milk lets her take it without any struggle. Immediately, she feels it's perfect. It's soft, like her blankets, soft, like real fur, and warm, and heavy. It doesn't squish as much as a pillow when she hugs it, and no matter how much she squeezes it doesn't lose its shape. “It can keep you company while you sleep, right? Seems a fitting punishment for the fuzzy little tresspasser.”

“It's amazing!” She says, and she can't keep her voice from squeaking, but Shadow Milk only laughs and gently drifts down in a twirl to set her down under her sheets. He remains facing her upside down, grin wide for only her. “I love it!”

“Yes, yes, but will it work?” Shadow Milk prods, and Candy Apple squeezes the rabbit closer with a thoughtful hum, raising her finger to her chin and squinting like Sapphy does when he thinks reaaal hard.

“Yep!” She says quickly, hurrying to bundle her blankets around herself like a cocoon. It's really nice the spire is so cold, because the blankets are nice and heavy and warm. Like her rabbit! “I love it! I'm gonna name it, and hug it, and it'll chase the scary dreams away!”

“Now, isn't that just great.” Shadow Milk coos, turning his head with a snap so his grin was upright again. Candy Apple giggles, hugging the rabbit close. “Hurry up and sleep now, kid. You'll never make illusions if you're sleepy!”

Candy Apple gasps. “I wanna make illusions! I'm gonna sleep, the best sleep I can ever sleep!” She practically throws herself onto her pillows, squirming around until she's good and buried. “Goodnight, Master!” She says, but she doesn't get a response. He's already gone, but that's okay. He gave her her sweet rabbit, and that's enough.

“SAPPHY!” Candy Apple shouts, heart thudding in her chest as her eyes start to water. The response is immediate, as always. Sapphy drops his broom with a clatter and immediately rushes to the door she's just about knocked down, even as the other cookies working on cleaning the space call for him to get back to work and leave her be. They're not very nice, the only followers that were nice were her caretakers and even then it's not real niceness. Not like Sapphy, who glares at the bossy follower that always makes him sweep their rooms and the halls and pretty much anywhere that needs to be swept, and kneels beside her to wipe her tears away when his attention lands on her again.

“Are you alright?” Sapphy asks, because he's nice, and he loves her, and the bossy follower can't really make him do anything he doesn't want to. They answer to Shadow Milk, not to the cookies too scared to call him anything but “the Beast”, and the last bossy follower got a mean awakening when he forgot that and tried to hit Sapphy over “disobedience”. “Are you hurt?”

Candy Apple shakes her head, but when she tries to talk she only hiccups. Sapphy realizes that he's not going to get her to talk immediately, it seems, so he stands up and grabs her hand to lead her out. Where they'll go is hard to tell; sometimes he finds her crying annoying enough to just dump her in the gardens where the rabbits play, but sometimes when he thinks it's big he'll take her outside the spire grounds entirely. Normally only when it's snowy or rainy, though, when it's fun to play and very very few cookies will be outside.

It turns out they're going to her room today, which would be fine if it wasn't there. She sniffles, blinking rapidly to try to force away her tears, but it doesn't really work. One day she'll get so good at crying she'll only do it when she really wants to, and she won't when she really doesn't, but that day isn't today. Even if she wishes it was, because she hates crying pointlessly. She's a big girl now, she's been a big girl for months now!

Sapphy doesn't really seem to notice that she's getting more upset when he reaches her door, so he thoughtlessly opens it to find… it.

Her beloved rabbit, temporarily unnamed at present (because she can't stop changing it), lays on the floor, battered and torn. His entire arm is ripped off, and his body is spilling what she thought was beans but couldn't tell except they tasted bad when she'd tried one, with his stuffing all over the place. Seeing him again makes her cry even more– she didn't mean to break him! And that's not even a lie!

“Oh…” Sapphy says, before letting out a long sigh and glancing down at her with an annoyed frown. “This is why you're so upset?” He asks, and when she nods he sighs again. “Pick up the beads and put them in a box or something. I'll be right back.” He lets go of her hand and leaves before she can even ask what beads are, but beads sounds like beans so she assumes it might be those.

Through her sniffles and her tears she starts to pick up the beads as she was told. Sapphy was nice, and smart, so if he told her to pick up the beads there was probably a reason. She doesn't know what else to do, anyways.

She looks at her beloved rabbit's face, and the red buttons threatening to fall off, and lets out another quivering sob. “I'm sorry…” she weeps, wiping her eyes with her arm and dropping some of the beads she'd collected by mistake. She needs to stop crying, it's making everything worse.

She doesn't know how long Sapphy was gone for, but she knows when he returns because he sits across from her and places the rabbit in his lap. In his hand is a needle with white thread, and he carefully examines the damage for a moment before loosely flapping a hand at the torn off arm. “Hand me that, and the beads too.”

Candy Apple quickly retrieves the scrappy fabric, doing her best to reign in her feelings before handing everything over. She sits next to Sapphy, leaning her head on his arm and watching as he works. The end result is lumpy, uneven, and the stitches aren't very well done, but the plush has his arm back. And his eyes secured again, because Sapphy had extra thread left. He hands her beloved rabbit back to her, and her precious gift feels a little weird, a little more squishy, but he's okay.

“I'll leave the needle in your drawer.” Sapphy says, pushing onto his feet and leaving Candy Apple to squeeze her beloved rabbit like she'll never ever ever let him go again. “So next time, you can do this yourself. All you'll need to do is find some thread first.”

“Thank you!” Candy Apple cries, hurrying to her feet, something a lot more difficult to do with her arms full. She rams herself into Sapphy’s side, making him let out a pained oof as she throws her arms around him and squeezes. He struggles to push her off, but she's a strong girl! And she only gets stronger every day! “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Get off of me!” Sapphy shouts, but it's okay. Because he helped her fix her precious gift from their Master, and she'll be yelled at for the rest of all the time in the world if that means she can show him how much she's thankful.

Sapphy starts teaching her illusions the day she turns five, but it takes until she's only a few weeks away from being six for her to be able to do more than change her hair color consistently.

It's not that she was bad at it! She's good at picturing the end result, and good at application, but she's bad at making it move with her. It's hard, though! It takes so much time to make an illusion that lines up perfectly, and she's a busy, busy cookie! Or, really, there's so much she wants to do, and so despite knowing how to do it and having Sapphy's commentary the whole time to guide her, she just ends up rushing through and making stupid mistakes that way.

But Sapphy, even when he gets annoyed at her for it, doesn't treat her like she's stupid. He seems to understand what her problem is, and so he tries to make it more interesting for her. The day she finally manages to make a real working illusion, it's because he promises to take her with him to his next errand if she can make it work. And that does hold in her mind as something interesting, so she doesn't get distracted, and she finally finally does it right! He gets so happy for her he picks her up and spins her around and around, and they laugh together in delight until Shadow Milk drops in to complain about the noise.

Oh, she loves when Shadow Milk comes to see them! That time, he was sooooo happy with her illusions he practically drowned them in sweets! And, andandand, he gave Sapphy a new errand. Which! Sapphy had promised to take her with him! So, with her new mastery of illusions, incomparable only to their sweet perfect Master's own skill, she's able to truly leave the Spire's grounds for the very first time.

The world outside the spire, if she is going to lie about it, is very very interesting! She loves the dirty gross cookies they passed by, and loves the smell of smoke in the air, and loves loves loves how boring Sapphy's errand was!

“Sa–” She starts to whine, before covering her mouth with her hand and coughing to stop herself. She's not supposed to call him that, not here. His name is Roasted Grape Cookie, and he's her scary mean older brother, apprenticed to a smith the village over. Only here because she needs medicine, and the closest herbalist was in this village. They've been walking for days, and she's oh-so frail, ahem. Cough cough, sniffle, don't forget to put on the big sad pitiful eyes.

“Grape, pleeeeeaaase can we sit down?” She whines, tugging at the edge of his apron with a weak, shaky hand. Sapphy pauses for a moment, looking down at her with a mean frown, and she flicks her eyes away towards a building before smiling up at him weakly. Sapphy thinks for a moment, or he looks like he does, before he gives one firm nod and switches their course.

She squishes down her excitement and her joy at being listened to, keeps the happy stomps she feels threatening to break out firmly in her own mind. Her wings are gently bound against her back, but they twitch against the bandages threatening to flap anyways. She doesn't know how Sapphy got so good at restraining his happiness, because her limbs just gotta move whenever her happiness overflows! Maybe he's just good at not being happy. Maybe he can teach her that, someday. It'd be pretty useful!

“Sit here, Baked Apple,” Sapphy says quietly, picking her up to set her on top of a crate she'd have been able to hop onto herself, if her character wasn't supposed to be a sickly frail thing. She coughs weakly, covering her mouth with her fist to hide her smile, and watches him with big eyes as he turns his head slightly. “I'll get you something to drink, be right back.” He pats her head, firmly, exactly twice. She nods when he turns away, smiling sweetly and quickly folding her hands together in her lap.

It's boring, but she loves it anyways! Because being out here, tricking cookies into performing pity, playing mean games on the rude ones who refuse them, spreading sweet lies and twisted rumors, directionless and without abandon? It's so so so fun! Sapphy may have a boooooring errand, but everything they do to fulfill it adds into the most entertaining little chaos she's ever seen. It's not like stealing from the bossy follower and pinning the blame on a follower who had ignored her when she wanted to play, where it causes very little problems and she ultimately gets nothing out of it. She can see, very clearly, all the little moving parts on the stage, all the pieces set in place.

It's a fun game! You tell Missus Peanut Brittle that Miss Walnut was talking to her husband a little earlier in the day, and suddenly their interactions get that sliiiightest bit more frigid! You tell Madame Camembert her son was throwing stones at the quince quail in her cubby and suddenly Baked Brie is sent away to his father's house for the day. Then you get to hold the quail yourself for a while, and their feathers feel really weird. Soft, but too smooth, and a little icky and bad. Then you gotta move on, actually see the herbalist you said you needed to because Madame Camembert is too sweet, and then fake an illness so well Crushed Basil says she's gotta study some more, and then you watch her flirt really badly with Madame Camembert until Miss Walnut comes in with a face swelling because Missus Peanut Brittle pushed her into a bush of poison ivy. This ends up with Madame Camembert and Crushed Basil getting mad, so it promises to cause a biiiig fight sometime soon. A shame that Candy Apple won’t see it, but!!

It's more fun than what Sapphy's gotta do, which is basically just following a buncha random cookies all day until he gets something to work with. Errands, Candy Apple figures, are just things Shadow Milk gives out so Sapphy doesn't rot inside out from boredom. She doesn't see a point in the game of following and listening. What do you really need to know about these cookies anyhow? They're all so simple, and dumb, and blind to the beauty of deceit!

One glance and all you gotta know is Missus Peanut Brittle is suuuper insecure, and all she wants to hear is validation for her worries. Miss Walnut is super pretty, and of course if she's talking to a man, that man will know she's pretty too. Though anyone with a brain would know Miss Walnut is too sweet to pursue that, Missus Peanut Brittle doesn't have one of those! It takes less than a sentence to tug that string, and less than a minute to know you could. What does waiting and watching give you? Nothing much more, she thinks! Rumors are too slow, she likes a lie that sees immediate results!

Candy Apple kicks her legs out, humming to herself as she waits for Sapphy to get back. She brought him over here because she saw the cookie he'd described to her walking into the inn, so she knows he's probably gonna confirm she saw the right cookie before bringing her along. He doesn't like taking her to crowded places without being certain it's where they need to be. Caution, she thinks. Which is dumb, because her illusion is perfect! It's not gonna fall apart because some cookie in a crowd bumped her too hard.

“Oh! Are you lost?” It takes Candy Apple a moment to register that the question was aimed at her, and she tilts her head as she refocuses on the girl in front of her. She looks about Sapphy's age, with big curly brown hair and a pretty yellow headband decorated with pecan halves. “I've never seen you around before, did you get separated from your parents?”

Candy Apple shakes her head, slowly. Sapphy told her not to talk without him around, and while she hasn't really been listening to him at all, this time he's probably gonna be back quick enough to see her not listening to him. The girl frowns, crossing her arms and looking over Candy Apple's adorably pitiful disguise with unconcealed concern.

“You sure? Cause looks like you're saying they just left you here, unsupervised.” Well, that's because Candy Apple doesn't need supervision. She's a big girl! And strong! And, really, the girl should be more concerned about what Candy Apple could do to her than what anyone could do to Candy Apple. Besides! Shadow Milk is always watching, and if anyone lays so much as a finger on her, he'll turn them into puppets and make them dance dance dance until they fall asleep forever when their strings are finally cut!

Candy Apple glances over at the door to the inn, before looking back at the girl. Then she lifts her fist to her mouth again to cough, because coughing wasn't talking. The girl sighs, and then apparently decides that the ground was a nice place to sit. Candy Apple pulls her legs up to sit criss-cross, rolling her eyes in the brief moment when the girl was too distracted to see her.

“I'm waiting for someone, too.” The girl says, smiling warmly up at Candy Apple once she's settled leaning back against the crate. “So, we can wait together! It'll go faster than if we were waiting alone, wouldn't it?”

Ick. How dull. Candy Apple looks away, back to the doors of the inn, silently willing Sapphy to hurry up and be done already as she picks at the hem of her overalls. This girl is doing her no favors here. If anything, she's exacerbating the whole boredom issue.

Thankfully, Sapphy didn't like leaving her alone almost as much as she hated being left alone. So, before the girl could get pretty far into her monologue about whatever she was talking about, Sapphy left the inn and began to march towards them. Candy Apple lifts her arms and makes grabby hands at him, smiling brightly, and without a single glance at the girl sitting “with” her he indulges her. Probably just to get her away quickly, because he stumbles a few steps back before setting her down pretty immediately, but it's still appreciated.

“Oh! Do you know her?” The girl asks, which is when Sapphy finally acknowledges her. Even then, it’s only with a glare, but she doesn't seem to care or mind any. “I wanted to make sure she was safe, this is a pretty nice village but we get a lot of visitors. Not all of them are the good sort.”

“I was watching from the window.” Sapphy responds, which may have been true. It doesn't sound like one of his lies, and really when half of what he does is just listening to people he doesn't need to always watch them. She didn't think there was a window that it would be easy to see her from, though, but what does she know? Her experiences with windows up until recently were only windows in the Spire. Those were not normal windows, though. (Normal windows were boring.) “But I guess I appreciate the concern.”

See, now she knew that was a lie, but it wasn't a lie he told to sound convincing. Part of lying convincingly is to sometimes lie unconvincingly, so other cookies couldn't tell when you were seriously lying. She's gotten reaaaaaally good at that!

“I wasn't trying to step on any toes,” the girl says. Which is obvious, duh. She's sweet and kind, pitifully so. It seeps off her like sticky syrup, and makes her a really easy target. Actually. Put like that, she suddenly seems a whole lot more fun.

Candy Apple coughs again, gripping the edge of Sapphy's apron and tugging until he leans down enough for her to whisper to him. He sighs, but his nod is all that's necessary to let her know that he's gonna let her play as she likes. “My sister says she likes your headband.” Sapphy says for her, and she moves to halfway “hide” behind him, as if she were shy. Can't ruin the game by breaking character, after all! Even if her character was a little boring. A lot boring. Whichever whatever, doesn't matter! She can still have fun.

“Oh! Well, thank you.” The girl says, giggling softly and smiling brightly at Candy Apple. “I like your bows,” she adds, pointing at the side of her head. Though it really would make more sense to point at the side of Candy Apple's head, cause that's where the bows she's talking about are, but whatever! Even the followers in the Spire were weird sometimes. A lot of the time? Or maybe they're normal. Who knows!

Candy Apple just ducks even further behind Sapphy's legs, doing her best to think of embarrassing things to make her cheeks bloom a light pink. Controlling one's expressions is important for acting, and she's the best at it! She keeps her eyes trained on the ground and her grip tight on the hem of his apron, lips twitching up at the corners into a small, shy smile. She hears the ensuing aw from the girl, and cheers inside her head. She did a good job!

“She’s quite shy, isn't she?” The girl giggles again, before pushing herself up to stand and turning her attention to Sapphy. “My name is Pecan Cookie, by the way. You two are…?”

Sapphy glances down at Candy Apple, silently questioning if she was really going to make him play this game with her, and she gives a veeeery small nod in return. He looks back up at Pecan Cookie and places his hand on top of Candy Apple's head. “I'm Roasted Grape Cookie, and this is my little sister, Baked Apple Cookie.” Pecan Cookie flinches back, eyes wide and blinking wildly for a moment, hand pressed over her chest.

“Roasted Grape? You're back?” She asks, and immediately Candy Apple's mood sours. She glares up at Sapphy with a pout, because he should have told her he's already messed with stupid Pecan Cookie! It's no fun playing with someone Sapphy's already played with. Pecan Cookie smiles, slightly strained, already wary and restrained. See?! That's exactly the reason why!!! Now she won't fall for tricks, and that's boring. “It's… it's been some time, hasn't it…?”

Sapphy tilts his head, brow furrowed, shrugging slightly. “Sorry, I don't remember you.” He says, and Candy Apple can tell it's true. But he should think to remember these guys!! If only so he can tell Candy Apple when not to bother. She tugs on his apron again, and he looks down to see Candy Apple's pout. She coughs, pointedly, and shakes her head. The game’s over! No fun here! His face twists into something annoyed, but he doesn't say anything to her. Yet. She knows she'll get an earful later.

“O-oh. Well, I guess that was some time ago!” Pecan laughs awkwardly once again, hunching in on herself slightly. Candy Apple hears the door to the inn open and close again, and she turns to look. Hopefully, it's someone else she could play with. Someone who hadn't been ruined by Sapphy first, she means.

“Oh, Pecan, made some new friends?” The new cookie that speaks wears a hooded cloak, with the hood down, fiddling with the clasp awkwardly as she steps past Sapphy leaving a wide berth. It's too big for her, as is the unstrung crossbow slung over her shoulder, so she looks really silly. It takes all of Candy Apple's willpower not to laugh and tell her that, and she has to bite her lips to keep them shut even then. “Hi.”

Pecan, if anything, looks even more uncomfortable as she quickly links hands with the new cookie. “Fruit Curd! Ah, hm, you know, this is actually Roasted Grape Cookie! He's, very different from when we last saw him?” Pecan glances between them for a moment, waving her free hand placatingly when her friend seems to tense. “And! This is his little sister, Baked Apple Cookie. She's real sweet.”

“And real sick.” Sapphy interjects, placing his hands on Candy Apple's shoulders and tugging her closer. “So we need to get going. Come on, Apple.” With that, he steers her away, moving much quicker than the situation warrants.

“Grape!” She complains, trying to dig her heels in to slow him down, but when she does that he only stoops to pick her up and toss her over his shoulder like a flour sack. “Sapphy!” She hisses, even quieter but even more viciously, but he doesn't even stumble. (Okay, maybe he stumbles a little, but that's more because she's kicking and hitting him to make him let go, which makes her pretty hard to carry.)

“Stop it!” He snaps, ducking into a narrow gap between two buildings and dropping her unceremoniously onto the ground. She lands on her back with an oof, glaring up at him and making no effort to sit up. He was being so mean now. She didn't even get a chance to play with the stupid looking girl! “We have to leave, Candy. That girl was a hunter, and she was bragging to anyone who could hear her that she'd caught some of deciet's followers a few days ago.”

“So what? Followers die every day.” Most of the time not even from “hunters”, whatever those are. Their Master is not a very forgiving cookie. Sapphy crouches down beside her and flicks her nose, which she immediately covers with both hands as she gasps. But before she could shout or whine or make any response, he covers her mouth with his hand and makes an annoyed clicking sound with his tongue.

“We are targets for the hunters, genius.” Sapphy sneers, before quickly yanking his hand back with a disgusted yelp. As he busies himself wiping off her saliva, Candy Apple sits up to face him properly. She still didn't get why she should care. It's not like “hunters” could even do anything to her. Shadow Milk loved her! Nothing could touch her so long as that was true. “Hunters are not worth dealing with until you have experience, okay? Until you get missions of your own, I want you to run if you see them. Okay?”

“I don't have to listen to you,” Candy Apple replies petulantly, crossing her arms. “I was fine! How would she even have known we belong to Master Shadow Milk anyhow?”

“They don't need to know, just suspect. And that girl clearly didn't like me, so she doesn't even need that much.” Sapphy responds, before looking at Candy Apple's stubborn expression and sighing. “Look, I know you don't think it's a big deal, but can you pretend you do? Just for today?”

He's really determined to try to scare her for nothing, huh? Well, fine. Because he's so nice, and because she loves him, she'll pretend to be scared. Just this once!

“I wanna go home.” She grumbles, lips quivering and eyes downturned. She holds herself tighter, almost self-soothingly, before glancing up at Sapphy with a pout. “I don't wanna walk, though.”

And because he loves her, and she's done as he asked, Sapphy turns to let her climb onto his back. He gives her a piggyback ride aaaaall the way to a hidden clearing in the forest, where Shadow Milk will come to pick them up… eventually. She can’t wait for Sapphy to figure out how to copy the portal thingy, really, it’ll cause their Master a whole lot less trouble and they’ll be able to go wherever, whenever! It’s gonna be soooo fun!

Sapphy has been really weird since that dumb hunter lady held them at crossbow-point. He's been quiet about it, and really thoughtful, like he's been given a problem and it's really tough. He asked for her to leave him alone, but Candy Apple knows that “alone” is the absolute worst thing to be, so she hasn't really listened well. He's snapped at her when she got too demanding, but otherwise mostly just ignored her. She's found that if she plays quietly with her dolls in his room it's the only time he really stops his thinking and pays her any attention again, so she's been pretty quiet lately too.

That changes only a few days into this weird quietness, with a visit from Shadow Milk interrupting their playing and making Sapphy stand so quickly he nearly falls down all over again.

“Master Shadow Milk!” Sapphy says, smiling brightly, but not as easily as his normal. Candy Apple bounds to her feet as well, but before she can try to hug her perfect, sweet, wonderful Master Shadow Milk, Sapphy grabs the collar of her dress and holds her back. Not unlike a scruffed kitten, she slumps over without making an attempt to struggle, though she makes her displeasure known with her arms crossed and a pout to match. “I thought you were still out?”

Shadow Milk waves one hand carelessly, looking at the wall with a bored expression, before tossing something at Sapphy in one snappy movement. It looks like a weird disk at first, lumpy and weirdly decorated, but then it shines and expands until the thing that Sapphy catches (partially with his stomach, losing his breath at the blow) is a staff. It's pretty, and Candy Apple immediately turns to admire it, eyes shimmering in wonder.

What a remarkable treasure for Shadow Milk to allow them to see!

“That is a microphone. A show host never goes anywhere without one, so you'd better keep it on you.” Shadow Milk says, his tone bored and flat, but his eyes flick over to see Sapphy's face glow with wonder. It's very brief, but for a second Candy Apple could swear she saw Shadow Milk smile. He smiled!!! At them!!!! Oh, she hopes it was a real one! It had to be, right? Because he immediately hides it again! Back to that bored expression, the uncaring mask. “It took some time to get it to function as a casting staff, so treasure it. If it breaks I'm not fixing it or getting a replacement.”

“Wait, this is…?” Sapphy asks, looking up from the treasure to stare at Shadow Milk with big wide eyes, his smile growing uncontrollably. Sapphy isn't one for having big expressions, but there's no way this much joy could stay contained in a small expression. His wings flap rapidly, something he'll be soooo embarrassed by later, but she'll be nice and forget about it for him. Unless he keeps ignoring her.

“A weapon, one suited to your strengths.” Shadow Milk finishes his sentence for him, nodding firmly, before glancing at Candy Apple. She perks up, wings flapping excitedly, almost hard enough to lift her off the floor. Is she gonna get a precious treasure too?! “Don't let Candy play with it. She'll crumble herself the moment she touches it.” Oh.

Candy Apple pouts again, shoulders slumping. “I don't get a micro-whatever?” She whines, but her sour mood disappears almost instantaneously as Shadow Milk floats over to pat her head with a wide smile. He looks like he finds something very funny, but she can't tell if she's seeing things again. She's not that good at other people's expressions.

“Well, you're hardly old enough to cast anything more than sparks! And an actress doesn't need a microphone, silly.” Shadow Milk pinches at her cheek, making her nose scrunch up as all the blood rushes to her head and her heart pounds. “You have no trouble being quite loud enough, really…” He adds quietly and flatly, glancing away with narrowed eyes and a slight upturn in the corner of his mouth.

“Truly…” Sapphy adds with an awkward chuckle. Candy Apple huffs, stomping her feet and whirling on him as Shadow Milk quickly floats back out of reach.

“What's that supposed to mean?!” She shouts, glare as hot as the sun. Sapphy takes a few steps back, holding the staff defensively in front of himself, giving Shadow Milk a pleading expression. But with a giggle and a wave, Shadow Milk simply opens another shadowy portal to escape from with a call of “Have fun!” as the only farewell.

Sapphy doesn't face her wrath that day, but really only because he promised her his desserts for the day in apology. It's certainly not possible to beat him to a pulp when she needs him to show up to receive his cake slice from the dining hall, and she would be crazy to pass up the opportunity to have two cake slices.

She almost thinks it means he's done ignoring her, too, because he spends the rest of the day talking with her and playing with his new microphone. But she shoulda guessed that was too good to be true. But it's fine! He's just thinking. He'll be all back to normal once he's done thinking.

… right?

Candy Apple stares at the bustling streets with wonder, stars in her eyes as her wings flap excitedly behind her. The Faerie Kingdom had sounded like a boring place when Sapphy described it to her in the past, but it's so much more pretty than she'd expected!

“They have wings!” Candy Apple whispers, holding the end of Sapphy's sleeve in a tight grip. It's not like she hasn't been told about the faeries, but it's just slipped her mind! She's never seen one before, and so it's still a shock to actually see other cookies with wings. She glances up at Sapphy with a wide grin, but his attention is elsewhere.

It hurts, just a little bit. It's been two weeks of his inattention and she's sick of it already. She'd thought he was done with it, when he offered to take her to the Faerie Kingdom! That's half of why she even agreed to go. He's supposed to watch over her! How could he ignore her like this?!

“Are we faeries?” She asks, tilting her head as she tugged on his sleeve. He glances down at her for a moment, before gently tugging his a out of her grasp and placing his hand on his hip.

“Of course we are, Apple Faerie.” Sapphy says dully, ignoring as she puffs up her cheeks in frustration. “Man, you're slow today, aren't you?” He snickers, grinning brightly. Lying, lying, liar. He knows what she was asking!!

“You're being mean!” She whines, stomping her foot down petulantly. “I mean when we're normal. Our wings are different, but they're still wings.”

“Ask later, Apple. Don't you have more of a brain than this?” Sapphy glares down at her, and she flinches back in shock. “If you can't stay in character for longer than two seconds I may as well just send you home. I don't want you messing things up and alerting the faeries we're here.” With that, Sapphy turns and marches away. Candy Apple stands, frozen and eyes wide, before she quickly shakes herself out of it and runs after him.

He's said mean things to her before, normally when she pesters him, but never that mean. And he's never left her alone in places she didn't know well, either. He was pretty annoying about it, actually, always hovering and bothering her and messing up her games! He was acting weird, upsettingly weird, and she didn't like it one bit. She hates being ignored, or left behind, or left alone at all.

She grabs his sleeve again when she catches up to him, but he doesn't slow down. She's left stumbling to match his pace, even though he doesn't shake her off again it's inevitable she has to let go to take a breath. Thankfully, that time, he stops to wait for her. He faces her again, but he doesn't smile. Something is wrong with him, and she hates hates hates it.

“This is the butterfly garden,” he says, before she can get all huffy and puffy and yell at him for ditching her. She pauses, blinking dumbly before she actually looks at the place he was showing her, which was… pretty. “A lot of faeries come here to look at the butterflies, obviously, but it's a great place for you to cause some trouble. Well, if you don't mind disposing of your disguise, I mean. It'd be a waste of your character, so save it for when she's not useful anymore.”

“And you got onto me for being out of character,” Candy Apple sneers with a light giggle, only to shrink when he levels another withering glare at her. Did she… make him upset with her? But she can't think of anything she's done lately! And even then, he's never been that upset with her when she messes with him. “Is that where we're going?” She asks, quickly adapting and meeting his glare with a bright smile. If she pretends it isn't happening, then it isn't happening! Simple as that.

“No. I want to show you where everything important is first, and then we'll be going to the street market.” Sapphy responds, letting his glare crumble. Though he turns away from her again, his frown is still etched deep into his face. He allows her to take hold of his sleeve again, and this time when he stops to show her someplace, she doesn't comment on his weirdness and instead just asks more questions about the places. It's boring, but it's the most attention he's given her in ages, so she tries to stop herself from annoying him. Even if he deserves it.

The street market is not any different than any other street market she's been to. In fact, it's more boring than anything. Faeries were very reserved things, or at least they weren't as chatty as regular cookies. The market wasn't quiet by any means, but it wasn't loud. It was also less crowded, because about half of the traffic was up in the air. The faeries selling things didn't shout and wave their wares in people's faces to try to sell them, instead just angling shiny things to catch the light and humming songs as they straightened their displays. Trusting that customers will come to them because they want the stuff, and not trying to force their wants to change and align.

It's different, but Candy Apple prefers the hectic, impossibly incomprehensible chaos of a real market place. But she can see why Sapphy wanted to come here; he's quiet too. Or, well, he's pretty quiet compared to most cookies in the Spire. He likes to listen before he talks, although not in a nervous or awkward way, but in a gather all pertinent information kind of way. He likes rumors and you can't get those as easily in a place where you gotta shout to be heard. No one wants to shout about rumors.

The place being so weirdly calm and quiet was probably why he told her to go look at whatever she liked without him… or he was back to ignoring her. In either case, she was definitely going to take advantage. After all, the only way to fix such a boring place was to make it not boring by her own hands! Since he's not gonna pay attention to her, she's gonna make as big a mess as she possibly can. And maybe take a few things too, just for funsies.

It's not even that hard to do, once she gets started. Faeries seem woefully unprepared for the trouble she can cause, believing her lies without any question and not even thinking for a second that the reason their pretty shiny things have disappeared was because of the kid they had just been talking to. And it takes so little work for the atmosphere of the market to change, all just from a few stolen trinkets and a small bundle of lies! What was once calm and boring soon becomes tense and slightly louder, as the faeries running the stalls start to turn on their neighbors or their customers.

There's a quiet jingle every time she skips, thanks to the trinkets she's stuffed in her dress, and a smile wide on her face. Even if Sapphy left her behind, even if he was ignoring her, she could still have fun! In fact, she was having way more fun without him trying to hold her back. Maybe it was a good thing he was being so mean to her. Now she doesn't have to care about what he says!

She giggles to herself, hiding her face in her hands as she stumbles to a stop, bracing herself against an empty stall as she squeezed her eyes shut. Her giggle fit lasts probably a good minute, or who knows how long really, before a tap on her shoulder breaks her out of it. She immediately jerks her head up, expecting Sapphy to be pestering her about going home now, but finds herself to, instead, meet eyes with a faerie. Well… not just any faerie, but a faerie her age? Looks like it, he's shorter than her, and she's not that big yet.

“Um, do you wanna play? We were gonna play tag.” The faerie asks, pointing behind himself at two more faeries behind him. Candy Apple tilts her head as she looks at them all, smiling even though it was a little annoying to be interrupted. “I'm Pink Hyssop, um.” His face is rather pink, so that makes sense! She doesn't know why they'd invite her, though.

“I'm Feverfew!” One of the cookies behind him introduces herself, swiftly approaching and not hesitating to take Candy Apple's hands in her own, smiling brightly. “I really really hope you'll play with us, you're so cute! I love your dress, and your hair, and I'm tired of having to play with only boys all the time.” Feverfew scrunches up her nose, as if she smelled something rotten.

“That's rude!” The third faerie shouts, brash and loud. He hurriedly comes up to join them, pushing at the girl's shoulders and jostling both her and Candy Apple, because Feverfew was still clinging to her, quite jarringly. “I'm Fritillary! I'm the best at tag, by the way, so you better not think you'll win!” His wings spread out, and he puffs himself up as if to make himself seem bigger. Very unimpressive, really, so Candy Apple cannot stop herself from giggling at silly sight. Which, of course, he doesn't seem to like.

“I love games!” Candy Apple responds, smiling wide and bright, eyes squeezing shut as her wings flutter behind her. “I'd love to play with you! I'm Apple.”

She's never had any opportunity to play with kids her age, nor kids her age who had wings, so she's actually really excited when the game starts. Chasing the faeries around, and then being chased in turn, reminds her of when she used to play with the rabbits at the spire. The faeries aren't quite as fast as the rabbits, though, so it becomes pretty clear they're not as good at the game as she is. But instead of getting frustrated like she'd expected, they just seem to get more eager to play! They wanna rise to the challenge and beat her, especially Fritillary, so they play for a long time!

Though, she finds that faeries do not have as much energy stored in them as she does. Eventually, they have to stop, and that means eventually her fun is over– psych! Feverfew stops her from leaving after they call time-out, and invites her to join them for lunch too, and of course Candy Apple accepts! They're fun, and butting heads with Fritillary is hilarious, and Pink Hyssop stutters hilariously badly whenever she says anything to him, they're so funny! She's only ever gonna see them this once, so she's taking full advantage!

Feverfew is a sweet girl, which makes sense because her mother ran a stall selling sweets! And her mother had brought Pink Hyssop and Fritillary along because their parents were going to be incredibly busy elsewhere all day, so they had packed lunches and were going to just have a picnic behind the stall. Even though Candy Apple didn't have her own lunch, they were willing to share their lunches with her, and Feverfew's mother offered some of the sweets from her stall too!

Candy Apple is very satisfied with this arrangement. She hums happily as she takes a bite of the sandwich half Pink Hyssop had given her, her wings fluttering with delight. It was really, really good! Better than the food at the spire! Those followers really should learn how to cook better. Not only does she get some real fun, but she gets some real food too! Ah, could the day get any better?

“Apple! Tell me, are you going to come again tomorrow?” Feverfew asks, her sweet smile bright and eager. She clasps her hands together and holds them to her face, closing her eyes with a dreamy sigh. “It's been so nice to finally have a girl for a friend~ Boys just aren't as cute, no way!” She finishes in a huff, glaring meanly at Fritillary, who reacts with a disgusted glare of his own.

“If you've got a problem, say it directly!” Fritillary snaps, holding up a fist and shaking it fiercely. Candy Apple watches them bicker with a smile, holding back her giggles and only managing after taking another bite of her sandwich. Something warm flutters in her chest, the same feeling she gets when she sees her Master smile, or when Sapphy takes the time to play with her. It's nice.

Someone taps on her shoulder again, and she turns to smile brightly at the easily embarrassed Pink Hyssop sat beside her, and predictably his face gets even pinker! His wings twitch and flutter as he ducks his head, but he returns her smile with a shaky one of his own. “Um, I… I would also like to see you tomorrow, too. Please consider it!” He says, steam practically coming out of his ears with how embarrassed that seems to make him. How cute! Well, if someone so shy was going to ask, she couldn't possibly say no!

“Of course!” She chirps brightly, giggling sweetly as Pink Hyssop flinches back, eyes wide and shimmering with hope. “I had so much fun playing with you! I wanna play with my friends forever!”

This seems to interrupt Feverfew and Fritillary's argument, because Candy Apple finds herself suddenly faced with Feverfew's teary eyes, and Fritillary's bright grin. “Oh, Apple! We wanna play with you forever, too!” Feverfew cries, rubbing her eyes with a fist and sniffling.

“Then let's–!” Candy Apple starts, before cutting herself off. Her smile falls, head sinking as she looks past Feverfew, clenching her fists into the skirt of her dress.

“Apple, there you are. I've been looking for you all over. We have to go now.” Sapphy steps out from his hiding place, startling Candy Apple's brand new friends. She glares at him defiantly, crossing her arms and turning her head with a haughty harrumph.

“I don't want to!” She responds petulantly, though she knows this is a lost cause. She's gonna go back eventually, and this game will be over. She'll never see any of these faeries again, and it's a real bad idea to stay too long. But she likes them! They're fun little playthings, and already she can see how much fun it'll be to play with them the way she likes to play. And then, their way of playing isn't that bad, either. Plus, they like her. They pay attention to her. She hasn't been lonely once since they asked her to play, and Sapphy's been making her feel so so lonely all day. “Can't we stay longer? Please?”

Her big, watery eyes don't seem to have the effect they used to. Instead of caving, Sapphy just narrows his eyes and crosses his arms, silently waiting for her to give in. Her new friends, or rather, her new turncoats give him the edge he needs.

“It's okay, Apple! We'll be here tomorrow!” Feverfew says eagerly. “I'll make sure to pack an extra lunch for you! I'll put aaaall my love into it, to make it extra good~!”

“I-I'll help!” Pink Hyssop immediately offers, placing his hand on his chest. Though the look Sapphy gives him the moment he speaks is absolutely withering. (Even compared to how he glared at Candy Apple earlier! This one, in comparison, is deadly, like he's already imagining Pink Hyssop as crumbs. What's up with that?!) Pink Hyssop immediately pales, shuddering as he lets out a quiet eep and hunches his shoulders. “I- I mean, um, I want to make sure you enjoy lunch tomorrow, too…” He mutters quietly.

“And we can play tag again! I just wasn't in my best condition today, that's the only reason you caught me! I'll definitely, definitely beat you tomorrow!” Fritillary declares proudly. Candy Apple glances around at them, these poor fools who think there will be a tomorrow, and does her best to smile.

“...Okay. Then, I'll see you tomorrow!” She says, reluctantly getting to her feet and marching to Sapphy's side. She waves with an easy, relaxed air, and watches them wave back eagerly. Sapphy takes her hand and leads her away, out of the market and into the trees, until they were deep enough in the shadows and far enough from the path that they could speak freely. “Why would you do that! I was having fun!”

“You were slipping up. You can't get distracted playing faeries, Candy. We have real work to do, and getting attached is a bad idea. They're not going to last, you know this.” Sapphy says, as simple as that. Candy Apple's fists clench as she trembles, something cold and sour settling in her stomach.

“I wasn't getting attached!” She argues, though Sapphy gives her a look that tells her all she needed to know about what he believed. “You know, I wouldn't have had to play with them if you weren't ignoring me!” She shouts, which gets Sapphy to flinch.

“I'm not ignoring you.” He says, turning his head away, but it's his weakest lie yet.

“You so are! You've been ignoring me, and you've been so mean to me, and I just–!” Candy Apple pulls on her hair, letting out a frustrated yell as she stomps her foot on the ground a few times. “What did I do?!” Her eyes start to water, but she's gotten better at crying. They won't fall until she wants them to.

“You did nothing, Candy, you're imagining it.” Sapphy says, but he still won't look at her. He's still ignoring her, and he's not even trying to lie to her properly! He's the most obvious he's ever been! The feelings of frustration and sadness that've been boiling in her stomach for forever now reach their peak.

“I hate you!” She screams, whirling around on her heels to run away. She won't go back to the faeries of course, but she wants to be as far from Sapphy– no, Black Sapphire, as she can get. If he was gonna suddenly hate her, she was gonna suddenly hate him right back. She’ll never go to him for anything ever again, if he’s gonna avoid her she’s just gonna do the same, even if he’s the only way she’s gonna get home! It’s not like he can leave without her, either. She wants to make him have to look for her, because Master Shadow Milk would be mad if he came back without her. This is just something small, to start with, but it’ll still cause him trouble.

She draws a shaky smile to her face, rubbing at her eyes to dry them quickly, putting herself back together before she can even fall apart. It's true, after all. Black Sapphire may not love her, but Shadow Milk does. Shadow Milk has always, and will always love her. So it doesn't matter what Black Sapphire says or does, what he feels or doesn't, because Shadow Milk loves her. That's all she needs. Truly, there is nothing else she could ever want.

Candy Apple sits atop a parapet high above the ground, connected to a roof floating freely in the air with no walls or building to speak of, swinging her feet carelessly as she watches the cookies down below flinch at every tiny little noise or squeak. Across from her, a free-floating arch drifts around in a gentle spiral, tilted diagonally. Black Sapphire walks there, his microphone held behind his back as he carefully makes his way to the bottom of the arch's pillars, where he sits. They're the only spot you really can, as they're the only ones relatively still, but it's still a bad spot to sit and watch. He's late, too, so when he's spun around enough to see her she sticks her tongue out at him rather childishly.

“Quit that,” Black Sapphire hisses, barely audible, but clear nonetheless. Of course, why would she do anything he asks of her? Instead, she just pulls down on her eyelid and blows a raspberry, even more childishly. But, according to him, she is “just a child”. She’s not, though, he’s dumb to even think it. She's almost sixteen, thank you, that's hardly a child.

“Is this really the place?” A voice echoes from below, drawing their attention down to the group of strangers once again. They weren’t quite expected company, but they weren’t unexpected either. Which is why Candy Apple and Black Sapphire were sent to greet them, but there's not really any way to know what they want. They wear the cloaks she's learned belong to Beast hunters, but they're almost much too skittish to be official hunters. They seem more like they're playing at the role than actually filling it, from what she can see. If she were like Black Sapphire, maybe she'd see more. Maybe she could ask, but it's not like he'd tell her.

He would have, some years ago. She knows that. She doesn't know what changed. It doesn't matter much, because he's still the best company she has in the Spire, and he'll still stop the stupid acolytes from messing with her, but she still hates it. She’s used to it now, though.

“It's gotta be. Don't you see the milkcrowns?” Another of the cookies says, stepping around the flowers with a barely distinguishable sneer. Being soooo high up makes it harder to see, but also easier. There are exactly six cookies in the group, though one of them is trailing behind trying to hide their position, and the one in the back of the group is hiding a magic staff under their cloak. “They only grow where the Beast crosses. This has to be the right place.”

“We go on three.” Black Sapphire decides, holding out his microphone and placing his hand on the edge of the pillar, ready to push himself off to fall. Candy Apple rolls her eyes and clambers onto her feet, wings flapping as she shuffles so her heels are the only thing keeping her on the parapet.

“Sure, Sapphy!” She says, giggling sweetly, and she only hears him quietly hiss don't call me that before she pushes herself off the edge, tumbling head over heels down, wings pressed tight against her back until she's, probably, only about halfway to the ground. That's when she opens them, lets them catch the air and slow her descent, until she can fall silently behind the group and begin slinking after them.

Her wings twitch and flutter, her glee builds and swells and it's the only somewhat quiet release she has, and she has to bite her lip to keep from giggling as the trembling group of false hunters marches further into the grounds. Her job is simple, as is Black Sapphire's. Play nice. At least, for a little bit.

The illusion she weaves is quick, and she applies it with skill and ease. Now that she's older, now that she's better practiced, it hardly takes a few seconds before her hair is the same red of a gala apple's skin, before a cloak much like their own unfurls around her shoulders, until her face is scraped with thin, raised lines beaded with dry specks of jam and her leg is so wounded it's a miracle she can walk at all. She fakes a limp, one hand reaching out as mud and dirt and jam covers her dough and clothes, eyes dulled with shadows of terror unknown.

Black Sapphire lands beside her, and his illusion settles into place just as easily, and he loops her arm over his shoulder just as the first of the group turns. They make for a striking, scary image, as she breathes heaving, shaky breaths, clinging to Black Sapphire with barely any strength at all, letting him take most of her weight.

“Wh-what are you doing here?!” Black Sapphire says with a hiss as the group stumbles to a halt with a variety of panicked shouts. Candy Apple lets her gaze unfocus, shaking as Black Sapphire pulls her closer to the group. “Didn't our letter go through?!”

“Y-you're from the–” One of the cookies starts to stammer, before their mouth is covered by another cookie's hand. The glare Black Sapphire receives is wary and appraising, and Candy Apple lets her breath hitch for a moment when he adjusts his hold on her.

“Quiet, we're in the land of the Beast of Deceit. These could easily be a pair of its followers… or of its demons.” The steely cold voice of what she'll assume to be their leader, given how quickly he takes charge here, cuts through the tense silence like a hot knife through butter. It does its job of restoring the will of his compatriots, and reminding them of the threats they were working under. Effective leadership, though it's such a shame he'd waste it here, on this useless task. “What letter? Who are you?”

“From the Banks of the River, we may shelter in the Reeds.” Black Sapphire recites the line with a desperation, voice breathy and trembling, glaring back with ferocity and despair. It's such a stupid code phrase, really, how did the hunters never expect they'd figure it out? “We are the last remaining in our regiment, and not last for long. The Beast is playing Hunting games, you fools. Our missive was sent a week ago, you need to turn back.”

“We can not turn back. Our mission is to find the Beast and subdue it, we can not stop now when we are so close.” Candy Apple is very grateful she's such an amazing actress, because that lie is laughable with how unbelievable it is. They're about as close to harming her precious Shadow Milk as they are to spontaneously growing wings and breaking into song. “But, we can treat the girl once we set camp.”

“If we stop, the Beast's wolves will sniff us out. We have no means of defending ourselves from those monsters.” Black Sapphire insists. “Otherwise, I would have treated her myself.”

“We have a mage,” The leader confirms, gesturing at the cookie who steps forward with staff in hand. “Proficient in shields and offensive magic. Your cohort is gone, but you carry on still. Don't give in to the despair the Beast has set upon you, we can win. We can live.”

Well, Black Sapphire and Candy Apple certainly will. Who can say these silly hunters will? If they're amusing and play the right way, they may last a month or two. But it's not likely they'll be that entertaining. After all, their leader is so serious and optimistic, and they seem to think this mission is to end the Beast. Oh, they couldn't ever harm Shadow Milk, the likelihood they even live to see him is low low low, but that they'd think they even could was an insult their Master wouldn't forgive! (Not one she’d forgive, either, but she’s just setting the stage, unfortunately.)

Even if they betray their little society and accept deceit, Shadow Milk isn't taking new acolytes. He's grown bored of them, and sees no point in them anymore. Retention is not on his list of priorities, though he's not actively trying to get rid of them just yet. He'll play some games with any “new recruits”, he's not one to pass up free entertainment, but they won't last.

Black Sapphire “lost” the argument. Candy Apple stares at the ground in dazed shock as she's carried to a bedroll set up in their raggedy, small tent, doesn't resist as she is laid down gently on the ground, lets Black Sapphire gently hold her limp hand as her breathing gets shallower and shallower.

She doesn't have to listen to his act, and doesn't need to see it to know what's happening. After all, this was all scripted and staged, planned to a tee by their Master and performed flawlessly by themselves. The wolves hunting were not an imagined threat. Shadow Milk graciously made them for their dear guests to play with, but it would be so hard for that precious gift to find them if they kept moving, let alone if they had a shield to protect them. So, simply put, they're just the opening act.

She holds her breath, and Black Sapphire quickly calls for their mage. After all, though her specialty may be elsewhere, most mages working for the hunters know a healing spell or two. There's a flurry of activity, before Candy Apple and Black Sapphire were alone in the tent with their most welcomed mage. She waits, and it's a little agonizing really, boredom and lack of breath both particularly painful, for the mage to crouch with glowing hand, healing spell slowly pouring forth–

And of course, with a solid bonk to the head, the mage crumbles. As does Candy Apple's apple, which is briefly upsetting, but inevitable. Candy Apple hops back to her feet and lightly kicks the partly-intact cookie, humming something amused as the mage groans. “She's resilient!” She chirps, tilting her head to smile at Black Sapphire. “I guess I gotta hit her again~!” She giggles.

“I've got it.” Black Sapphire sighs, glaring at her in warning as he reforms his mic. With a very quick wave, a light purple glow sinks over the mage, and she stills. She's probably not dead dead, not yet anyhow, but that's what the wolves are for! “The shield should be falling now. Want to cause some trouble before we take our final bows?”

“Ooooh, really?!” Candy Apple bounces on her heels, eyes sparkling brightly. Black Sapphire nods, expression mildly bored, and she lets out an excited whoop as she hops from foot to foot, wings flapping as she twirls. She grabs her remaining apple and hauls it over her shoulder.

“Remember, don't kill them. Shadow Milk wants the wolves to have some fun.” Black Sapphire calls after her as she runs out, but he's just a bit too much of a worrywart! She loves the wolves, she's just gonna scare the hunters a bit! It’s what they deserve, for insulting her beloved Shadow Milk with their presence!

Besides, the wolves would let her have one cookie, right?!

“Where's Shadow Milk?” Candy Apple asks, dropping from the upside-down stairs to land on the rightside-up stairs right in front of Black Sapphire. He hardly reacts, only swerving to dodge her as he continues on the way up, but she's not gonna give up that easily. She hops up the stairs after him until she matches his pace, arms crossed and brow furrowed. “Black Sapphire, I know you know where he is! You always know everything that happens in the spire!”

“You exaggerate, though I'm flattered you think so highly of me.” Black Sapphire smiles, slightly, but his face falls just as quickly. “Our Master will return when he deigns, you know how he is. He follows his whims as they come, and he sees no reason to share what those whims happen to be with us.”

“But he normally gives us things to do when he's gone for so long!” Candy Apple whines, throwing her arms out in frustration. Black Sapphire gives her an annoyed glance, but she ignores him. “The spire is empty, hunters haven't come in weeks, and Master Shadow Milk is just– poof!”

Black Sapphire is silent for a moment, though that's not saying much cause he's almost always silent, he hates talking to Candy Apple, but eventually he responds. “... I know. But we can't question him, now can we?” He says, sighing as he raises a hand to his head. “He'll be back, eventually. He always is.”

“Yeah, because he wouldn't leave the spire.” The spire is him, after all. But she can't just hug a wall and expect him to feel it, so it might as well be just a building. She crosses her arms again and drags her feet up the steps dejectedly, wings hanging limp behind her. “He wouldn't leave us!”

Black Sapphire glances at her with a small frown, but instead of denying her like he usually would he simply nods. “Right. He would never–”

Candy Apple yelps, immediately clinging to Black Sapphire as suddenly the spire quakes. The lights along the torches surge and flicker, blinding one second and all too dim the next, and the walls make sounds like crumbling. Black Sapphire covers her head with his arms as they both fall to the ground, and she feels dust and debris cascade down from above.

The sudden quake takes all too long, and yet it's also… very short. When the shaking stops, when the crumbling and crashing quiets, and the spire settles in its all-too-quiet darkness, the pair sit up and stare, wide-eyed, at each other.

“What… Sapphy, what was…?” Candy Apple asks, voice trembling, eyes watering even though she doesn't want to cry.

Black Sapphire looks down, at the damage around them and the bottom of the stairwell, his grip on her arms squeezing tighter. “I…” He starts, before shaking his head fiercely. “I'm sure it was nothing. Let's just… let's go out to the grounds. Shadow Milk must've arrived home, and… yes, he just decided to make it a show! That's… it couldn't be anything else.”

It's not convincing, but Candy Apple will take any lie right now. Because if something rattled the spire… if the spire went completely dark… if the ceiling almost almost caved in…

Shadow Milk is the spire. What does it say, when the spire crumbles and cracks…?

She clings to his sleeve like she hasn't done in years, following after him as he leads her down the stairs, down a path that is relatively unscathed, but crumbles almost every other step. The entrance had been just down the stairs, before. While the spire has quaked, nothing seems to have moved, so it should still be there.

But when they reach the bottom of the staircase, the door isn't there. It's… gone. No sign of having been there. In addition, so are the windows. It's… stark. The windows, while abnormal and just as ever-shifting as any feature, are normally everywhere. “Sapphy…” Candy Apple starts, tugging gently on his sleeve. “Do you think… Shadow Milk is…”

“No, because otherwise we would be, too.” Black Sapphire responds immediately. “The spire still stands, so Shadow Milk must stand, too. I… don't know what's happened, but we'll be able to figure it out.” Black Sapphire turns to face her. “You investigate the upper levels. Find any windows, any doors, or anything that will show us the outside. I'll look from here, down. If we find the right room, there’s a scrying mirror that could give us answers. We can plan from there; even if there’s no doors, we can always take a portal.” But if the spire doesn’t want to let them out, will it let them back in? Candy Apple can tell Black Sapphire isn’t super sure about that idea either, which is probably why he doesn’t just take them outside now.

“Okay…” Candy Apple says. She reluctantly lets go of his sleeve and starts to dust off her clothes, huffing softly. “But not because you told me to!” It's a weak attempt at normalcy, but it's the best they have. When she turns and starts to hop her way back up the stairs, she wipes her eyes of the tears falling against her will.

Shadow Milk is fine. He's just playing mean tricks on them! He loves playing tricks on them, after all, and there's nothing in the world that could hurt him! He'll be back in a day or two, and he'll laugh and laugh when Candy Apple greets him with a teary hug, and he'll remind her that nothing can ever harm any of them.

He… he will. He'll come back, because he loves her, and that means he'll never, ever let her be alone.

Chapter Text

Blueberry Milk isn't often called to her garden, but Caster Sugar's Paradise has been a project she's asked for his expertise on some occasions for quite some time. His botanical knowledge rivals her own, after all, as does his magical prowess and his project management skills, but that's only natural. As the Fount of Knowledge, he understands all aspects of the cookie's world— the science, magic, mathmatics, et cetera; all that you'd find in academia is his to know and share. Comparatively, Caster Sugar's strengths lay in the emotive regard; she gives and receives understanding with an ease he can't help but be envious of, as the Bringer of Happiness must indeed understand all aspects of the cookie's heart. That their expertise does not happen to cross altogether that often, well, that is natural as well.

She normally is quite fine on her own, however. She only ever needs his help when something goes awry, or when she desires his company, because a lack of expertise does not make her incapable of learning. Though he has difficulty learning the things she naturally knows, she doesn't have the same trouble with his knowledge (something he has, in the past, been mildly envious of, though he doesn't usually mind it now). As stated, her knowledge does rival his own, in applicable areas. So to be called to the Garden worries him; she, ordinarily, just makes the trip to visit him herself if it's an issue of missing his voice.

“Caster?” He calls as he lands amidst a lovely patch of beholders, their eyes turning to watch him as he carefully steps to avoid crushing them underfoot. Though walking isn't his favorite, the ache is unpleasant on the best of days, he does enjoy pacing himself the few times he finds himself in her garden. After all, the sights are quite lovely and there is always something new. It'd be a shame to miss anything because he was zipping around willy-nilly.

There is another reason to land, though. Like he and his spire, she was intimately connected to her garden by the soul and body; her garden was like an extra limb, or perhaps it'd be more apt to say it was a second heart. She will feel his presence, and find him much quicker than he may find her, so long as he's in contact with it. She'd likely feel it even if he were to stay in the air, but he's found a cleaner and stonger signal is the more polite endeavor.

It would be so much easier if she still had her cabin, but that thing has been torn down and rebuilt and torn down again so many times he understands her reluctance to try again. It's just never perfect, she says, it just feels oh-so stifling. She's more at home under the stars and lying in a bed of flowers than with a ceiling and walls hiding her from the world. It's ridiculous to miss that place, anyhow. It's been centuries since it has last existed, even if it holds many fond memories of their youth. For what absolutely minuscule extent they had a youth, he means. They didn't have a childhood after all, baked fully grown and dropped into the world with their purposes and souls woven inseparably. There was just a time where they were fresh to the world, where things were wondrous and new and brilliant in their mediocrity, and now everything has settled into the dullness eternity brings.

Though he can not allow himself to lose his mind in nostalgia and wishing for simpler times, as times were never simpler but they themselves were. Complexity is the way of the world, not a quirk of modern times. To ignore that would be idiotic, at best. Besides, he can hear the flutter of wings, the rustle of feathers. Why reminisce on what will never be again, when he can enjoy his present company?

“Blue!” Caster Sugar greets cheerfully, landing before him with her wings wrapped around herself. She smiles, something filled with mischief and humor, eyes twinkling like sugar crystals. Ordinarily, she would greet him with a warm hug, or even a playful tackle, depending on the day. His worry grows, but he tamps down on it to match her smile. “I am so happy you made it! How was the journey? Fair weather? Your students didn't give you trouble for the short notice?”

“You would be glad to hear my journey was swift and fair, and I was able to take off with no hurt feelings.” Blueberry Milk responds warmly, tilting his head as he folds his arms behind his back. He'd love more than anything to hug her, but if she was keeping distance now there is likely a fair reason. He'd hate to bother her. “Though, as lovely as visiting you is, you must have had a reason to call on me so urgently? Have you had trouble?”

“Oh, no!” Caster Sugar says, gasping softly as she realizes why he had arrived so soon after her letter. “I'm so sorry, Blueberry, I didn't realize you may take it that way. I suppose I could have been a bit more restrained, but I was just so excited to share this wondrous news with you!” She bounces slightly, but she keeps her wings wrapped firmly around herself. She giggles softly and holds herself tighter, ducking her head under her wings for a brief moment before smiling at him once again.

“Nonsense, you hardly meant anything by it. Plus, honestly, I'm glad you tore me from work. It was getting quite stuffy in that spire of mine, after all, even if I nearly worried my head off my shoulders!” Blueberry Milk laughs, tucking his legs to his chest and letting gravity lose its hold on him. He floats lazily, watching Caster Sugar as he slowly twists to float upside down, a silly sight sure to make her laugh. “As for whatever you called me for, you're truly painting a grand image! If you're truly that excited to share it, it must be something truly amazing.”

“Why of course, it's the most spectacular sight in my garden! The most precious thing in Paradise.” She sighs, affectionate and loving, wings shifting slightly. “Nothing else will ever compare, truly.”

Blueberry Milk grins, righting himself and crossing his legs, eyes shining with eager curiosity. “Well aren't you a tease! Come on, Sugar, you can't leave me in suspense! Show me your most precious treasure!” Whatever has Caster Sugar so up in a tizzy must be more than amazing, she's never lauded even her most prized gifts from her subjects with such high regard. Her affection is by no means something hard-won, but for her to call something precious above all other is a different story altogether!

“Well, if you're so insistent!” She smiles brightly, eyes daintily shut as she tilts her head, and she opens her wings to their full wingspan. Immediately, Blueberry Milk looks to what she's held hidden all this time–

And pauses, smile frozen as he stares unblinkingly. “Um. My dear Caster,” he manages to start, but he comes up short as the thing blinks up at him. The “thing”, of course, being a small child, hardly more than a doughball. “is… is that…?” He shakes his head before quickly flitting down again, close enough to examine the little creature and note all the striking similarities. Pink dough, soft cheeks, and tiny little wings sprouting downy feathers bright as sugar crystals. “Oh, White Flour is going to be so cross with you!” He giggles, more out of stunned disbelief than anything, but… “Why, he's got to have a few years on him, hasn't he? And you're only telling me now?!”

“Well, not a few years. A few days, perhaps? I sent the letter as soon as he'd arrived.” Caster Sugar responds daintily, pulling away to put distance between her little doughling and her dear friend. “I didn't make him, you know. But he is mine, to raise and teach, so that he may fill his purpose as we fill ours.” She rubs the little doughlings cheek with the back of her knuckles, soft and fond, the sweetest and most loving smile Blueberry Milk has ever seen on her face as she stares down at the creature.

“But he is of your dough. You can't hide that from me! Maybe anyone else, but not me!” Blueberry Milk rises into the air again, crossing his arms with a huff. The little doughball stares at him with his big round eyes, both curiosity and apprehension shining in them, in the same manner all toddlers may look at a stranger. “And yet you say you didn't make him… how could that be…?” He closes his eyes and thoughtfully taps his chin with a hum. After all, Caster Sugar isn't known to lie, not about important things. And a Virtue having a child is certainly an important thing.

“My perfect little Pavlova Cookie is a gift, a blessing from the witches themselves!” Caster Sugar croons, raising a hand to beckon Blueberry down. He follows, as it's not worth bickering over this, and once he's close enough she practically shoves the little doughball into his arms. It's not the first time he's held a toddler, so he adjusts quickly, but he's still largely uncomfortable with the situation. As is, clearly, the toddler himself. “As more and more flock to my garden with hurts I cannot begin to heal, I find myself needing hands. I can construct cherubim to perform any labor and repairs I may need, but they're not capable of thought and feeling. To attend to so many, I needed a hand, and I needed a specialist.”

“A blessing from the witches?” Blueberry repeats with wonder. It's been so long since they've seen hide nor hair of their progenitors, and Caster Sugar says so easily that they gave her a child of all things? It's hard to believe, but not impossible. Though, it makes something dark and sickly catch in his throat, bitter feelings pouring like thick sludge. He swallows it down, feels it land heavily in his gut, and smiles regardless. What does it matter if he's been overlooked? It's inarguable that Caster Sugar has the hardest job, keeping cookiekind happy, so of course she'd be given a hand when she was in need. Blueberry is perfectly capable of filling his role alone, the witches likely knew that when they sent their blessings to Sugar and Sugar alone!

“Yes, yes! A little god, just crafted, though he's not of my dough, as you say. He was a little frail, a crumbling dough out the oven far too soon, so I lent him a smidgen of my power, is all." Sugar brushes the child's cheek with the back of her hand, sweet tender care in her gaze before she quickly shakes her head. "But he's an entirely different creature! More mortal, more akin to faerie-kind. He needs to eat, and sleep, and do all that a mortal must. But he will never crumble from age, and will always be by my side~” Caster Sugar pokes Pavlova's cheek, giggling softly as he pouts at her. “Ah, he can see hearts, read them as easily as books. He is love, given form. My most precious treasure, as you said.”

“A god with a childhood…” Blueberry Milk hums. “A mortal, with godly fate, more like. Not a god yet, but one day, when he understands all there is to understand about love.” Though, that hypothesis doesn't sound quite right either. An entirely different creature, indeed. How in the world did she manage such a thing? Did the witches really forget their due diligence in crafting a new godling, and she simply completed the process? Or was it simply the act of giving up a fraction of the ocean of power they were afforded that created such an odd creature? “Am I the first to know?”

“Of course! Bamboo has been busy for ages, and Marsala Spice is absolutely horridly dull company lately. White Flour is too far for the letter to reach in time, and I needed help now. Besides, you always were my favorite! Oh, but don't tell the others!” She winks with a giggle, holding a finger to her lips. Blueberry Milk shakes his head with a smile, hefting Pavlova higher in his arms. She's, after all, being a little silly and untrue. It is not in her heart to play favorites, although he'd believe it if Pavlova has already managed to break that rule of hers. “So, tell me, will you help me? I can bring him happiness, and it will be my honor to care for such a precious thing, but I am no teacher. Children are sponges, you have said, and will take whatever they may see. I'd hate for a mistake to blemish his growing heart, and I fear the worst should I lead him astray.”

“Why, I'm honored you asked!” Blueberry Milk responds, grinning down at Pavlova and ruffling the little dough's hair. “It sounds like fun, teaching my dearest protege all he needs to know! I'll make a perfect little god for you, my dear, you may trust me on that!”

“Dearest?” Caster Sugar asks, covering her mouth as her eyes shimmer with amusement. “Oh, Blue, I suppose you've gotten quite attached, haven't you?”

“Oh, and you haven't called him your treasure!” Blueberry rolls his eyes before lowering to the ground enough to place Pavlova down on his feet. Immediately the boy crosses to hide behind Caster's wings, peering shyly through her feathers. “I'll be able to visit weekly, as I do still have my regular students to consider, but don't think for one moment his lessons would be anything less than a priority for me!”

“I believe you, my dear Blueberry.” Caster Sugar responds, giggling as he lifts into the air. “I suppose, I shall see you in a week's time?”

“You will!” Blueberry Milk grins, waving both at Caster Sugar and then down at Pavlova before he shoots off, back to his spire. It'll take him a few hours to come up with a functional curriculum, and there's certain things he can expect Caster Sugar to have covered already. But, he does so love teaching children! They have such wondrous, curious minds, and such interesting ways to view the world that makes him think of things in a new light near constantly! Of course he's excited to get a chance to tutor a young mind again— it's been a long time since anyone truly young has attended his boring lectures.

For Pavlova's sake, he's going to make this the least boring lesson plan he's made to date! It'll be quite fun, he imagines.

Pavlova grows slowly, in the years to come. Blueberry hardly attempts to keep track of such things anymore, but he knows many summers have come and gone, and with each Pavlova is very… stagnant. He grows some years, and doesn't in others, and it doesn't seem to follow a predictable pattern at all. To some extent, he remains the same small, soft doughling he'd met him as.

Though, not his personality, mind. Pavlova starts as a quiet, nervous boy. Overly polite, and prone to hiding behind his caretaker whenever Blueberry happened to visit. Such a thing does not last very long, in the grand scheme of things. Caster Sugar is not quite capable of discipline, and is prone to doting, so it's had the predictable affect of making Pavlova a tad bit of a brat. Blueberry Milk does very little to curb this, frankly, he vastly prefers the loud, demanding, and sweet young child Pavlova has become to the shy little creature he'd first met.

Pavlova may be a tad frustrating at times, but he's still a hard worker and an eager study. He loves to learn, especially if he may get a new story out of it, and his training for his role in the garden proceeds at a good pace for how infrequently Blueberry Milk has the time to visit. Caster Sugar manages to find him willing tutors in areas they could not hope to cover themselves, (Blueberry Milk may in theory know the perfect way to shoot a bow to hit a target every time, but he can not perform the action for the sake of demonstration,) and he takes to most things with a natural talent befitting a cookie with his origins. All to say, that even as Blueberry Milk feels the years start to drag and even as Caster Sugar's greeting smiles get more and more fake, lessons with Pavlova are something he looks forward to.

So when he gets a letter, what he will not realize for quite some time is the last letter Caster Sugar would ever send him, asking him to end such lessons? Well. To say he is disappointed is an understatement. Yet, he's a busy, busy cookie himself. He certainly could make use of the time in other ways. And so he does. And more years pass, but he does not have any reference for how many, and then even more. His friends are not far from his mind, though not frequently for much good reason. Bitter aches left from their distance make bitter words slip past his tongue, and it hardly matters if they're lies or if they're truth when he knows that they're not the saints they'd tried to be anyhow. It may be a surprise when he hears of Marsala Spice's new active lifestyle, but he can't bring himself to care much beyond noting it for his own records.

At the time, he considers visiting Caster Sugar to share it, but her garden has been… unwelcoming, and the trip takes too long. With the wars breaking out a number of cookies have flocked to him to request knowledge on how to restore peace or destroy their foes or simply just how to secure rations for an army, and so he's quite incapable of leaving his spire for any amount of time. It's so dull, and irritating, and he misses the days where writing a letter meant it'd be sent and read. But every plea for his friends' attention went unanswered before, and so goes unspoken now. Left to burn as kindling for the hearth, keeping the spire only a few degrees above frigid.

It'll be many, many more years yet before he truly regrets those choices. Perhaps if he had sent those letters, things would be different. Perhaps if he'd held his tongue instead of lashing out the moment he'd had a chance to. Perhaps if, when they'd started to drift apart, he'd clung on just the tiniest bit more.

Though, that regret will take a prison of silver boughs to set in, and an eternity to acknowledge it in the first place. It's so much more fun to play with the lives of all the ungrateful little gnats, after all. There's nothing else in the world he could possibly need.

He doesn't need anything, or anyone, else.

Only a few years into his identity as Shadow Milk Cookie, he finds a little crumb of dough in the woods. The little thing is so frail and weak, but Shadow Milk has never seen any creature so calm in the face of death. Not peaceful, not happy, but unafraid. Angry, though. So, admittedly, when the thing refuses to react to him, he's a smidgen curious.

It is dying, though. There's not much to do about that fact, he's no healer and he didn't care enough to even try, but it really is a true shame.

Shadow Milk hums a tune as he slowly weaves through the trees, taking a rather circuitous path back to his spire as he holds the unconscious, feeble child in his arms. For as weak and frail as it is, it certainly has to be a stubborn thing. It clings to life even now, even despite having seen a Beast it had to have been certain would end it then and there.

It's been some time since Shadow Milk has seen someone so unafraid of his visage. And, really, being stuck in a tower teeming with sycophants he couldn't seem to be rid of was awfully dull. Plus, he'd been curious about something for quite some time, now.

Pavlova Cookie was a curious little thing.

Shadow Milk has been thinking, ever since meeting that little freak of nature. Eternal Sugar's "gift from the witches" didn't seem to follow any rules of life and reality as he should, and theoretically his very existence was an error they'd simply failed to correct before Sugar got hold of him and sold herself delusions to excuse keeping him. It explains why he'd apparently been underbaked when she'd found him, and why his growth and development was so odd. But if her power were enough to stabilize him and change him into something not-quite like her, and quite unlike any other near-deific cookie they've witnessed before, then what would happen if someone took an ordinary cookie and did much the same?

He doesn't doubt that Pavlova was indeed meant to be something like a god, his abilities and oddities couldn't simply be explained by holding a drop of Sugar's power, and his strangeness certainly had to have affected how influential she had been on the final product. Likely his fluctuating and inconsistent age and strength were a result of that awkward blending of magics, and perhaps the only reason he's survived the entire procedure had been because he was already made strong enough to hold it. So Shadow Milk has wondered if an ordinary cookie, in similar enough circumstance, would be transformed in a similar manner.

He's not really had a good opportunity to try it. Adults aren't as malleable, even mages, and the near-dead state you had to drive them to simply didn't last long enough for the transfer to work, if the shock of suddenly having magic where there wasn't any before didn't kill them outright. He'd dismissed his hypothesis after a number of failed experiments, none of the results had shown any promise either. The changes didn't tend to stick, in the bodies that didn't crumble immediately.

But this cookie, the little ball of dough he holds still soft, still malleable, it's a more promising subject than he's had in the many years he's spent given up on the entire idea. An ordinary cookie, so close to death yet stubborn enough to not be there quite yet, one who looks up at a Beast fearlessly— if it were successful, Shadow Milk snickers to himself, Sugar would no longer be the only one with a so-called "gift from the witches".

It was just a matter of finding the best way to transfer power. How to keep the kid juuust dead enough not to fight it, and juuust alive enough to receive it, and keep the sudden flood of dreadfully powerful magic from killing it immediately. Shadow Milk wasn't too plussed with keeping it in a useful state, but if he could keep it alive, or even manage conscious, that would be very interesting.

He sneaks into his spire and avoids contact with any of its "residents" with ease, the pests scurrying around none-the-wiser to his early return from his fun, and with hardly a thought a new door pops into existence at the dead-end he purposefully ducks into, allowing him into a sparsely furnished bedroom that will work wonders for his purposes.

"Welcome home, little dough~!" Shadow Milk cooes, tucking the near-dead child into the bed rather carelessly. He only minds the risk of harming the kid further because it'd be a waste of a good test subject if he lost it now; otherwise, it's not like the kid could know anything about what's going on around it. What does it need for comfort? If the spire wasn't so cold and the kid so clearly frost-bitten, Shadow Milk wouldn't have even bothered giving it a blanket.

First thing, he should stabilize it. Then he could figure out dosage and a timeframe to expect this to work on. He'll figure out what to do with the end result when it comes time; another corpse could be tossed out to the garden for the rabbits, but if it survives… well. It's not very likely that will happen, so he doesn't bother thinking about it for the moment.

Instead, he thinks about how he'll dole out its dosages. Enchanted food might do the trick, if he combines it with a weak enough poison it'll probably keep it pliant without killing it… a lot of room for error there, but it'd be pretty fun if he could get it to trust him enough to eat… easy, too, implicit acceptance will make the whole thing so much easier…

One month, surprisingly.

The first week was touch and go, the kid stabilizing enough for the next small dosage of the tincture Shadow Milk had concocted— Dark Moon Magic, the same as the witches used, was very adaptable, and while not the only method that could allow a transfer of magic ability, was the one with the least caveats and cost. It, also, was something he was well acquainted with using in very questionable ways.

With an ocean of magical potential available to himself, it's simple enough for Shadow Milk to access a few drops, and with adequate knowledge and a lot of trial and error, making that accessible physically isn't quite impossible. Difficult? Yes, but for an immortal god-like creature such as himself, not impossible. Though any mortal likely shouldn't try it; they'd likely rend their soul to shreds and crumble themselves in a small implosion— which, sounds like a very fun thing to write up and ship off to any academies to watch the carnage ensue.

In any case, the tincture is a more controlled method of transfer that is less jarring to an ordinary cookies dough. Shadow Milk had figured out early in his experiments that the opportunity to process it slowly yielded better results, as in a slower death, so he'd started with quite the small amount at first. Though, it hardly seemed to do anything, in that first week. The most promising sign is that the kid woke up, even after Shadow Milk had been trying to keep it down with poison, but it had lacked any strength and it certainly didn't have a notable magical signature.

After testing its faculties, giving it another dose, and enchanting it to sleep, Shadow Milk decided that it was clear he was moving too slow with the transfer. He doubled the tincture, and the poison, and saw better results. Though the child woke up even with the extra poison, some semi-immunity having clearly developed, its processing was much better. Sending it to sleep had been just as effective as the poison in the early stages, so the second week was filled with the kid waking, taking its medicine, and sleeping again.

The third week, well, that was truly something amazing. First the kid had managed to stand, and not immediately collapse. It'd even managed some more vigorous activity, kept up with the tests Shadow Milk set that would crumble lesser cookies; even at its most frail, the kid was sturdier. It had a subtle, passive magic acting with it, too, making it quieter and harder to notice; blending in with more shadows, making their game of hide and seek only a tiny infinitesimally small fraction less in Shadow Milk's favor. To his delight, the kid was even a smidgen clever (as clever as a child can be) and caught on to the games quickly. Shadow Milk couldn't know if that could be attributed to the experiment, but he'll count it regardless!

The whole thing goes by much quicker than Shadow Milk had initially expected, with far better results. Though poison has been excluded from the kid's meals for only a couple days, it recovers so quickly afterwards it's almost like nothing had ever been wrong in the first place. He'd expected to be disposing of a body by the end of this, regardless of if the power had truly took, but the kid is healthy, energetic and oh-so eager to please. Unlike the sycophants that skitter about like pests in the halls, taking up space where they were so clearly unwanted, it doesn't ever look at him with fear, or with a hunger for power. It looks upon him like any child looks upon a being they admire, shimmering eyes even if it can't seem to smile just yet. He can appreciate that; it feels good to be idolized in the innocent way a child provides.

Though, he's forced to cut his experiment short by the end of the first month.

The start of the fourth week, the child's health suddenly declines. It complains of aches, it shudders and jerks as shivers wrack its form, coughs harsh and truly rattling as it sobs with breaths it can not fully take. Its dough cracks along its spine and seeps jam that smells of rot, tacky and runny at the same time. It's a reaction Shadow Milk has never seen from his experiments before, and so he truly doesn't know what exactly was occurring.

So he stops producing the tincture, cuts off the kid's medicine and simply… watches. He wipes away the jam on its back and presses a cold cloth against the kid's feverish head, taking samples to examine and lamenting the waste of resources the ordeal promises to become. But he doesn't just leave the kid to rot from the inside out; for all he knew, it was just the final hurdle before its condition stabilizes fully. He's not one to call it early, and this is the longest any cookie has lasted already. Normally, they didn't last more than nine days.

"… Lord Beast?" Shadow Milk glances up, nearly startled that the kid managed to wake. It wasn't normally coherent at all, in this stage, if not weeping from pain then screaming nonsensical gibberish that meant nothing at all. Shadow Milk pauses in his work idly wiping down the open wounds on the kids back, tilting his head instead of responding verbally so the rotten taste in the air wouldn't touch him. "Am I… dying…?" The kid asks, voice tremulous.

Shadow Milk tilts his head the other direction, looking over the kid appraisingly, before his eyes narrowed. "Not from this, I can tell you that much." Shadow Milk shrugs. "If it comes down to it, I'll crumble you myself. It's quite annoying when I don't get to be the one to break my toys."

The kid doesn't do much else but blink before nuzzling its face back into the pillow with a sigh. "That's good…" It responds, as if Shadow Milk hadn't just told it that it would die from his hand. "Could it be a game?"

"How else do we do things here?" Shadow Milk asks with a cheery snicker. The kid is certainly something, he enjoys it sometimes. He grins, now, as he turns back to his work cleaning the wounds. Gentle strokes, up the length of them before the rag is dunked back into water, wrung out, and back to cleaning. It isn't the most sanitary, but the infestation outside hasn't ever been informed of his presence or their new guest. Only he can help himself, and it's quite a lot already to keep the spoiled jam from drowning the kid. He can manage to clean the water every five dips, at the rate it flows. It's a wonder the kid hasn't bled out already—

"Huh?" Shadow Milk pauses, as the edge of the cloth catches on something. He pulls the rag away and leans closer to the wound, hair writhing so the eyes hidden could get another angle to see, and then— "Huuuuh, how strange!" Shadow Milk chirps, before sticking his fingers into the wound.

The kid flinches, hisses in pain, but doesn't try to get away as Shadow Milk prods and searches for the thing he'd spotted in the cracks, the only sign of concern being the occasional hitched breath when Shadow Milk has to readjust to get a better grip. But, when Shadow Milk finally gets a hold of what he'd seen and pulls it out— the kid lets out a sigh of such relief, immediately slowing the tremors wracking its small frame.

"My, my! You were holding out on me, this whole time!" Shadow Milk cackles with glee, immediately floating up to plop himself on the other side of the bed, reaching into the other wound with nary a thought of hesitation on his mind. The kid is a little more squirmy this time, but once the other one pops out he practically melts with the sweet relief. Shadow Milk grins, jam-stained fingers still delicately holding the most frail, crumpled, leathery membrane he's ever seen on any cookie. The first set of wings like this he's seen on a cookie, period. "Oh, this is just too cute! Wings! This whole time, that mystery blight was a pair of wings!"

The kid hums, nodding its head as it wraps its arms around the pillow. It won't sleep, it can't sleep with the Beast still here, but it looks quite exhausted from the ordeal. It makes sense! Growing two whole new limbs, that your body wanted to reject wholesale, but being unable to do a thing when they get stuck under your dough? Brilliant! Amazing!

Shadow Milk watches as the frail little twigs of limbs that may one day work properly twitch and flick about, barely nudges of movement. The kid will get a sense for it eventually, even if for now all it can manage is spreading more of the sickly jam into the sheets of its bed. Shadow Milk can do something about that, though.

With a snap, he switches the dirty water with clean, and switches the old rag for new. A second snap after a moment of consideration, and he summoned dressings for the wounds. He definitely can't just let the kid die now! He needs to see just what other wonders his changes could bring about.

Shadow Milk laughs as he settles to clean the delicate little limbs, giddy joy and maddening curiosity getting the better of him. He was not one for research anymore, but this is just too interesting to give up on!

The Spire isn't a place for children, but it can be a place for one child. Most of the pests that scurry around the halls and make Shadow Milk utterly exhausted can, at the very least, respect that Black Sapphire is and will remain a permanent feature and responsibility of theirs. The few who can't seem to manage it learn quickly, and the one's who forget don't get second chances. Shadow Milk can't stand their entitlement, to his Spire, to his attention, and then now to his Sapphire? He's quick to punish those who get a little too comfortable raising a hand, if only because if anyone is going to break his belongings, it's going to be him. And he has no plans to now, not yet anyways.

Black Sapphire grows oddly, in the way that it grows completely normally. It's on standard hitting the targets for children its age, when it by all means shouldn't. It started out emaciated and near-death, those sorts of things tend to stunt a kid's growth, but it seems Shadow Milk's little experiment happened to function as a slight reset to that flaw. Near-death had never done a cookie so much good, as what the experience had done for little Sapphy.

Other than its wings, it doesn't grow any more oddities. Not yet, anyhow, but it's not shown any signs of its magical development stopping. Shadow Milk knows spells to keep tabs on these things, and Saph has definitely adapted to the new power its gained. With an ease that speaks of natural talent, so Shadow Milk truly was a lucky, lucky Beast to have found such an excellent test subject.

It still retains its quirks and habits it learned from its old life, and the composition of its dough hasn't changed either; it's a curious thing, because if not for that Shadow Milk would have thought he'd managed something completely different compared to the Pavlova case. Certainly, it's remarkable just how… normal its development was. Seemed Pavlova's weird aging was a quirk all unique to himself!

But to go back to the matter of the pests, well. They think themselves sooooo important, soooooo high-and-mighty, just because he doesn't swat them like the buzzing little gnats they all are. They use this misguided self-importance to boss around his Sapphire, which isn't in itself annoying. It's when they think they are above it, well. That's annoying.

Unlike them, who flocked here on their own seeking the knowledge he no longer provides, who heard his new teachings on deceit and the true way of the world and decided to "help" him spread his deceit— ahem. Unlike them, Black Sapphire had been invited. Both had their uses, and certainly Shadow Milk has made excellent use of his acolytes, and doesn't entirely resent their presence for that reason alone, but Black Sapphire is the only one he'd taken in with intent. Shadow Milk isn't one to waste resources, especially ones so easily malleable and readily disposable, but he wouldn't have sought them out. He can puppet the average cookie with ease, warp realities with the flutter of his eye, there's no need to have willing disciples. That they're here is his mercy, not his desire. So for them to place themselves at any comparable importance to Black Sapphire, well. It's a step too far.

Shadow Milk is resting, after another successful outing to the Garden, giggling and chasing the terrified refugees seeking Sugar's Paradise. Curled in his own personal pool of darkness, a little void-space he'd formed at the roots of a large tree that no one would notice, save for how it was a few degrees darker than it's surrounding shadows, he doesn't sleep. He never sleeps, as he doesn't need it, but he curls into a ball like a cat who found a comfortable bed, yawns with the same drowsy contentedness, and watches through his opened eyes along the Spire walls, trailing after anything that looks interesting.

Black Sapphire has been having a good day, it seems. It's started learning how to do new spells, more than just its illusions. After its first outing, its pretty much mastered all that he needed it to know, but it likes to learn spells it deems useful. That it favors poison-type magic is a curious thing, that Shadow Milk likes to keep track of. It hasn't yet been asked to sweep the dormitories, but it will be. Shadow Milk can see the annoying pest traveling along the path now, heading down the twisting hallways and getting ever-so frustrated as they keep shifting on him. A simple thought, and the hall will end in a staircase up into the floating patio, and Shadow Milk would have gotten the pest quite lost once more.

Shadow Milk snickers to himself, and along Black Sapphire's path he wills the Spire to twist the halls around to lead it back to its bedroom. Early, to send the kid to sleep, but he'd watched the night pass. Black Sapphire hadn't gotten a wink, and though it was good at acting otherwise, it was most certainly exhausted.

Being able to see everything in the Spire doesn't mean he actually does, most of the time. He's had time to get used to the many eyes, so it's not as if he isn't capable of constant awareness, but that's a headache and a half. Keeping track of so many moving parts; his mind was made for it but that doesn't mean it doesn't get troublesome. So, he misses some things, more intentionally than not. It's more entertaining if things can surprise him.

Not so in this case. When Black Sapphire is led down a new path, Shadow Milk misses the other cookie who'd already been in that hall. After all, she shouldn't have mattered; just another pest, as nameless and unimportant as all the others. She wouldn't have mattered— if she hadn't seen the child traveling past, and decided that its lack of greeting was an unforgivable slight.

High-and-mighty fools, Shadow Milk growls to himself, watching as the gnat makes some snide comment to his Sapphire. The exchange isn't one he pays much attention to the details of. She's insulted because she's apparently high-ranking, when Shadow Milk doesn't recall crafting a hierarchy for them to structure themselves in, and Black Sapphire's sleepy responses are not respectful enough for her. It doesn't matter anything more than that; it's just annoying, but not any more than any other pests interactions with Black Sapphire gets.

Up until she raises her hand, that is.

There's not really any time that passes, between one moment and the next. Black Sapphire winces back, holding his freshly aching cheek and staring up at the fool who dared touch him, stumbling back into Shadow Milk. The sound of the slap echoes in the now less-empty-than-before hallway, and the fool woman stares with slowly dawning terror as she realizes that Shadow Milk is there. And quite angry, too.

"Oh, hello, Master." Black Sapphire cranes his head back, smile stretching awkwardly across his face. He's still not quite used to the gesture, but he very rarely fails to make an attempt when he sees Shadow Milk. "How is your day?" He asks, as if Shadow Milk isn't more shadow than form at the moment, as if his hair isn't writhing like a nest of ravenous serpents and the eyes are not trembling in their places.

"Just dandy, Sapphy." Shadow Milk coos, head tilting as he gently lifts the child into his arms, holding him close and glaring at the pest as he grins eerily. "Well, up until I saw someone touching my things."

"M-my Lord…!" The fool stammers, clutching her hand, the offending thing, to her chest as she grins nervously, eyes flickering about the empty hall as she tries to find any witness to what will happen here. She'll find none, and she'll find no escape. The hall they stand in is sealed, dead-ending in either direction. "I… didn't know you had returned!"

"I hadn't. In fact, I really didn't want to be here, at this time, but my hand was forced." Shadow Milk clicks his tongue reproachfully, as he flicks his wrist carelessly. The shadows surge, becoming binding chains that latch around the pests wrists and drag her down onto her knees, staring up at the Beast with sheer terror. As she deserves, as she has earned. "Say, Sapphy, you want to go sleep now? I have the perfect spot for you to nap in!"

"Okay," Black Sapphire responds. He's not an oblivious child, his eyes flicking back from Shadow Milk's terrifying visage towards the cowering woman for one moment, waving slightly as his smile curls up further. One could call it mocking, and Shadow Milk would elect to believe that. "Goodbye, Miss." With that, Shadow Milk opens a new pocket in the shadows beneath himself, and drops the child rather carelessly before sealing it up again. Nothing much to do in that pocket of the void, so Black Sapphire will ultimately fall asleep from sheer boredom, if nothing else.

"My Lord, I swear, whatever I have done to slight you, I—" The woman starts to plead, before a new tendril snaps around her jaw, forcing her mouth shut with a loud clack of teeth, and she trembles as Shadow Milk rises higher and the binds force her head to crane up to witness him. He grins wider at her fear, at the heavy pressure of terror filling the air, and for a moment he simply basks in the presence he has.

"You can't be so foolish as to not know," Shadow Milk croons, slowly drifting as if to lay on his stomach, head propped up by his arms. A careless, casual nature is a jarring dissonance to cookies who view him as the monster he is, which he knows. He knows this dissonance is discomforting to them, and he's going to draw this out. Lessons must be learned, consequences carried through. "You hit him. You don't understand why that matters, I get it, I do, you don't think about your possessions so much. To you, if they get damaged, they're easily fixed, easily replaced…" Shadow Milk snaps his fingers, and the cookie lets out a strangled, choked sound as one of the shadowy tendrils pierces through her dough. "But to treat my possessions so carelessly is something I won't permit! So, you'll understand why it matters, eventually. You'll understand pretty quickly, I imagine! But you've already tried my patience. You're going to have to convince me you really, really get it before I even consider leaving any crumb of you to be recovered."

Shadow Milk is not keen on getting his hands dirty, he prefers when he leads others to do the damage themselves rather than carrying it through on his own, but there's nothing quite like tearing a cookie apart crumb by crumb when he's truly angry. Leaving the pieces and puddles of jam behind for some other fool to clean up is a good warning anyhow.

Shadow Milk cleans himself after it's all over, before diving back into the microcosm of his Other Realm he'd put the child into; Black Sapphire's eyes flutter open, stirring from his nap now that a second body has joined the space, but with a gentle stroke of his hair he stills once again. Breathing gentle and even, content and secure despite the Beast that watches him, and it's curious. Always curious. For a child who possesses enough intelligence to know that Shadow Milk has crumbled cookies for lesser slights than simple inattention, to feel so safe sleeping in this hidden space no other cookie would ever think existed to look for him… Shadow Milk could destroy him now, and there wouldn't be any remains. That sort of thing didn't tend to last long in the Other Realm, dissolving into the void-space as easily as false constructs could be crafted in it.

"Odd kid," Shadow Milk hums, running his hand over Black Sapphire's hair once more before opening a new portal and pushing the unconscious body through. The child wakes just long enough to flail as he goes, eyes wide and a quiet gasp pulled from his chest, but Shadow Milk doesn't turn his eyes to watch his landing. He knows precisely where the boy will go, after all. He can take a better nap in his own bed, and Shadow Milk can return to his own resting.

He makes sure Black Sapphire's room is tucked away somewhere inaccessible, first. After one of the insufferable pests had dared attempt to harm him, Shadow Milk was not open for a second chance. If the child was going to be broken, it will be by his hand alone. He doesn't like to waste resources, and the child isn't even close to being done growing anyhow. Once he gets what he needs, once he finds the end results of his experiment, he'll dispose of it as he sees fit. But until that day, until it is complete and it can no longer provide new information, it remains. It is his child, his possession, and he will do what he wishes with it.

For now, that is making sure it rests.

Another day, another outing. Shadow Milk hates being confined to the Spire, after years and years rotting inside the damned thing he couldn't stand being stuck there. He made sure to leave as he wished, when he wished, and he abides only by his whims. Such whims, on occasion, led him to places such as this.

The village is a quaint one, small. Actually, not much of a village, so much as a singular homestead with a couple neighbors. Four generations in one home, with a nearby house holding two and another with one, and all this empty farmland that hasn't been managed since the "Beasts" started to roam. It's a fun place to work, a fun challenge.

He shifts, transforming into an older woman. With a wrinkled face and kindly eyes, clouded with age and the blindness that comes from living a long life— merely illusion, of course, but a potent one. With hair contained in a bun wrapped together by shaky hands, and a hunched back in need of support by the shepherds crook she uses as a crutch, elderly is the short of it. Shadow Milk, himself a rather young immortal in his own opinion despite the long span of centuries he's lived, would rather say decrepit.

He pulls his illusory shawl over his shoulders, each step small and tremulous as he makes his way to the door of the largest house. It's not any trouble to draw an illusory storm up, complete with the sound and feel. He takes a moment, just a few minutes, to wait for the timing to be less conspicuous, before knocking on the door.

It takes a few seconds for an answer, a friendly looking young woman answering the door, grinning brightly before her face starts to fall. "Oh, I was expecting— aha! Ha! Sorry!" The girl places a hand beside her mouth, glancing behind herself as her grin stretches awkwardly, and Shadow Milk merely smiles up at her. "Sorry, ma'am, just was expecting one of the neighbors around, normally we bunker the storms together, given their roof tends to leak 'n all. What's got you out in this weather?"

"Oh, I was just taking a stroll, got lost for the trees. Before I knew it the rain was pouring and I was tripping over my feet trying to find any place more dry than the treeline!" Shadow Milk lets out a creaky cackle, and the girl chuckles along much more subdued. "Dearie, you'd help an old woman, would you? My dough isn't as strong as it used to be, I'm afraid were I to try and get myself back home I'd be a pile of soggy crumbs in minutes!"

The girl shuffles awkwardly, the door closing slightly as she peers over her shoulder once more. "Well, ma'am, I'd say I'd be right happy to— but we've got more'n just me in the house, and I ain't the one to ask. Let me ask Pops 'fore I let you in, 'n make sure the younguns know to respect a kindly woman as yourself." The girl speaks in a manner anyone else would think warm and welcoming, but Shadow Milk has a clearer sight than most. Besides that, he knows the rumors about in this neck of the woods. Everyone's cautious about the Beast's here, and they know at least one of them is a shapeshifter.

Which is why this ploy is even fun. "Of course, dearie! There's enough of an awning to keep me dry yet, and I know patience well! Must do, to reach such a premier age." Shadow Milk grins as he gestures to himself, arms trembling with elderly frailty. "Oh, but do be sure to be quick! I've heard the howls of beasts in the woods, I fear there's something hunting tonight."

The girl chuckles awkwardly once more before slamming the door shut, hurrying away quite quickly, by the sound of her footsteps. Shadow Milk grins and, with a wave of his hand, leaves an illusionary copy of his old crone disguise behind. It's simple enough to trail after the young fool; a shadow stretched beneath the door to enter, then the form of a small fly to buzz about unnoticed as he follows to their living space.

It's not a large space by any means, fitting the four— five, now, with the young woman entering— cookies inside rather snuggly. An older woman, not as old as Shadow Milk is pretending to be but not very much younger either, sits close to the hearth with a bundle held in her arms as she rocks in her chair, humming some old lullaby that must've passed down a generation or two. A man stands by the window, peering out at the empty fields with a frown and a furrowed brow, dressed in a rather fine get-up compared to the more ragged and simple clothes the rest of them wear. An old man, cracked with age and a tough life, sits beside another young man, one who only just barely seems older than the man by the window.

"Candymelt, there's nothin' out there save the storm 'n the fields." The old man says, voice low and stern. "You'll catch nothin' but the glass when the wind blows out, sit down." The man by the window turns with a frown, but obeys anyhow. As Shadow Milk could have guessed, the old man runs the place here.

He flits over, sneakily landing on the old cookies shoulder, being sure to crawl up next to his ear as carefully as he could. Best not to be noticed, here. The old man turns his attention to the returning young woman, who now looks harried and torn as she flicks her eyes to the old woman's bundle.

"Honeycrisp, didn't I send you to get the door, love?" The old woman asks, pausing in her rocking as she glances behind the younger. "Where are the Pears?"

"Still out, Ma." The young woman responds, before turning to the old man. "Pops, there's an old woman out there, needin' shelter from the storm. I think we ought to give her a room."

"Really, Honey?" The man next to her Pops says with a snort. "You feel like doin' a kindness? Guess what they says is right, ain't it, Ma? A little dough changes a cookie."

"Oh, shut it, Mac." Honeycrisp says, placing her hands on her hips as she turns back to her Pops. "It's wrong to leave a woman out in the storm, Pops. We have the room." Except, rather clearly, they do not.

The old man lets out a sort of grumble, thoughtful. That's Shadow Milk's cue, and he takes it readily. "There are Beasts out in the forest. How can I be sure this woman is as harmless as she seems?" Shadow Milk mutters, in as good a mimicry of the mans voice as he can manage. Pops crosses his arms with a rumbling sigh, narrowing his eyes at his daughter.

"I dunno, Honey. There ain't a village for miles, travel here harsh on old dough. Where's she say she came from?" Pops asks, receiving an odd look from Ma. Seems he's not so usually the paranoid type. She might be the next one to need a word or two, after he's done here.

"Just the trees, Pops. Wandered here on foot, got lost when the storm started." Honeycrisp responds, making a walking gesture with her fingers. "No more explainin' than that, I think a bit more than her dough was soggy."

"Honey!" Candymelt says, slightly stunned. Honeycrisp manages to wince, at least pretend to be sorry for her words. That's important to note. "We can just, keep her in the hall, yeah? Just until the storm ends. Shouldn't be long, for how suddenly it had rolled in."

Pops grumbles again, but Shadow Milk doesn't need to make any more comment this time. "Might bit suspicious, that. Sudden storms, mad old crones at doors; business we oughtn't get stuck in, I think."

Shadow Milk makes a quick dash in flight over to Ma, mimicking her voice just as quietly as before. "How could he speak of this stranger so unkindly! Are we really going to turn her away for the crime of being out of home in a storm?!"

"Now, Pops, that ain't fair to this strange lady." Ma says, as Shadow Milk flits over to Mac for his next little trick. "Why don't we let her in?"

"Beasts in the woods, Ma. Old crone said she heard 'em howling, but all I heard was th' wind." Says Honeycrisp, who despite her earlier words seems very content with the idea of not letting in a poor old woman. And, indeed, things shake out that way.

Shadow Milk has his fun, nudging every cookie until the quiet and calm disagreement turns into a full shouting match. Once the fire is lit, he makes his return to the porch, taking his place as the old woman again and snickering as the families bickering raises in volume enough to be heard through the walls. It's sweet music to his ears, the result he'd been hoping for, and he patiently awaits for the beginning of act two. After all, just inciting a family to fight is hardly anything. He likes things a bit more dramatic than that.

It takes a good two or three minutes more, for Honeycrisp to open the door again. This time rather aggressively, with a sneer on her face and a hand on her hip. "I might kindly ask you to leave, ma'am. Ain't smart to trust a hag from the woods, and we're no fools." Honeycrisp haughtily jerks her chin up, fist clenched and arm tensing to slam the door shut again. Behind her, Shadow Milk can see her Ma and Mr. Candymelt rounding the corner with their reprimands and whatever else, ready to intervene and fix this situation.

Yet, it's already too late. Shadow Milk has received exactly what he'd been hoping for. He grins something wicked and sharp, straightening his posture as he warps his form, extending his height and allowing the signs of age to flee. He doesn't return to his "true" form, of course. Just a secondary one, inspired by some old tales passed along before the Beasts were ever Beasts. Pulling on old strings, fulfilling the expectations his role draws.

And old crone to a beautiful, radiant and terrifying being, almost incomprehensible in her sheer grace and power. The oldest of tales, warning the average cookie to be kind to strangers. Appropriate, for now.

Honeycrisp pales at the sight of him, even without his Beastly visage he knows how to cut an intimidating image, with shimmering feathered wings and galaxy-filled hair, stealing his looks from a number of fairly well known and powerful beings. Not close enough to be easily placed, but enough to draw connections in the ordinary cookies mind. Honeycrisp, a perfectly ordinary cookie, draws those connections herself in only a second, quickly clasping her hands together and falling to her knees as Shadow Milk speaks.

"A hag, you said?" Shadow Milk speaks carefully, low and gentle, but firm. He tilts his head and flexes his wings, catching the faux raindrops and the sparse light both, a casual display as he freezes the falling rain in midair. "Your words are cruel and uncouth, foul woman. And for them, you shall earn a fate most terrible. A curse, on you and your family, and those foolish enough to pity you. No longer may you trust those closest, for always they will have a knife angled at your back. No longer may you believe their words, for they'll always speak ill once you step out of their sight. All of you shall be unable to do more than see the worst sides of each of you, and slowly, one by one, your growing disgust shall tear you apart. Crumb, by crumb, by crumb."

It's not so much a curse as a promise that Shadow Milk's game shall continue on, linger even without him there. But spoken with enough authority, with power backing his words, and with an impressive display— well. Those simple-minded folk could do nothing but take his curse at face-value, could they? Honeycrisp tears up, trembling, as her Ma runs to her side and crouches beside her, holding her by her shoulders. Mr. Candymelt runs up to squeeze past them, stand in the doorway as if he alone could keep Shadow Milk and his "curse" out.

"Fair Lady, we did not have a clue who we spoke to! Pardon my wife for her sharp tongue, she has just born through a stressful time—" Candymelt flinches back as Shadow Milk flexes his wings again, but stays standing. Stares him down as evenly as any particularly brave fool can manage, actually. Shadow Milk lets him continue. "Please, if there is anything we may do to make up for this slight, there is nothing we wouldn't give! Fair Lady, if you could grant us mercy, as one as lovely and clever as you must see how truly sorry we are, tell us what we must do to break this curse, and it shall be done."

Shadow Milk tilts his head the other way, silently appraising the man. As the other members of the family flock in to stand behind them in the hall, with Mac now holding that bundle Ma had been so taken with, Shadow Milk considers. There isn't a curse, so there's no mercy to grant. They'll tear each other apart with their paranoia and frustration with each other, and that won't change whether he grants them "mercy" or not. They're his newest playthings, and he wants to see just how far they could be pushed before they crumbled. Not because they're particularly interesting, but because he simply is able to do it. But, he's never had the actors in this particular script offer to bargain before. And that piques his interest, even if it's pointless. Likely precisely because it's pointless.

"In two days time," Shadow Milk begins. Candymelt's face starts to relax with relief, before he seemingly realizes that it's much too soon for that. Shadow Milk's grin widens at the sight, at the fear he's demanding even without the truth of his identity being known. "The moment the sun rises, I will return here. It will be your only chance to prove that my curse is undeserved, and your lesson has been learned. On that day, you will offer me something precious," Shadow Milk turns his gaze to Honeycrisp. "The most precious thing you own. If I detect any attempt at falsehood or trickery, the curse will not only remain, but be strengthened. But if you provide the thing you truly value most, the item you love the most, and you give it up willingly— then you shall be spared."

And that is that. Shadow Milk leaves, and the fake storm leaves with him. He bides his time, watching the house from a distance, picking fruits from the few trees that still bear them and lazing about within the leaves as he lets them fall to the ground and rot. The family goes to their neighbors for advice and get turned away, no one wishes the wrath of some powerful magic creature be turned unto themselves, argue with each other by night. Honeycrisp and Candymelt, in particular, argue most viciously in the few times Shadow Milk has seen them about. He doesn't ever get close enough to overhear, but it's not hard to miss when they often take their fights outside.

It's mostly boring, really, to wait so long. But too short a timeframe and there isn't enough tension, and too long gives too much time to reach a satisfying answer. Really, given nothing they had was of any worth to himself, and thus nothing they had would be enough to save them, it's almost a waste of time. But he has to commend that Mr. Candymelt for his attempt, really, that man must have been some kind of storyteller himself! Shadow Milk may have to keep this little diversion in mind for future scripts, if it proves fruitful enough. He can imagine just how close to tearing each other apart that family must be… and so, when the morning of the second day comes, Shadow Milk leaves his hiding places behind and dons his most recent appearance. He alights on their doorstep once again, knocking politely only thrice, before settling back with his hands clasped together and his wings folded behind himself.

The door is answered only moments later, by Honeycrisp of course. Her family stands behind her, with grim expressions on each of their faces, though Candymelt looks quite angry, too. "Fair Lady, you're quite… punctual." Honeycrisp says, shifting awkwardly. She holds a bundle, glancing down at it and then back at Shadow Milk a few times, before cautiously nudging the door wider with her foot. "You said, the thing I love most? The most precious thing in this house?"

"And no falsehood will give you grace." Shadow Milk confirms with a solemn nod. "Foul woman, do you offer your most beloved possession to me, knowing you will never hold it again? There is no going back. Think carefully."

Honeycrisp lifts her chin again, stubborn and determined. Hardly any regret or doubt in her expression. Ha. Shoulda guessed she'd try something, huh? Well, it'll at least be entertaining to double down when she knows she'd tried to pull the wool over his eyes. Her guilt will be fun to see bear fruit!

"Yes ma'am. After a lot of pain, and thinkin, and wonderin'… I have the thing I love most right here." Honeycrisp says, holding up the bundle carefully. Candymelt grinds his teeth, turns his head away, but doesn't argue with her. Shadow Milk notes this, before reaching out his arms. Honeycrisp handles the bundle delicately as she passes it to him, adjusts his arms to support it properly, and as he looks down— oh, how terribly rotten of her. "My only child, our sweet Candy Apple."

Shadow Milk stares down at the little doughball, not too terribly old at all. Sleeping peacefully, wrapped up in a tight swaddle, unawares that her "mother" just traded her away to end some nonexistent curse. With hardly a blink, no hesitation. Shadow Milk grits his teeth, as he carefully rubs a knuckle against the doughs cheek. Just to check that she's real, that she breathes.

"The most precious thing in our house, the thing I love most." Honeycrisp declares, as if Shadow Milk would believe that performance. She doesn't even sound the least bit choked up! He lifts his head, examining the family stood behind her, lingering on Candymelt. But, apparently, her husband doesn't have a spine now.

Shadow Milk steps back, wings flaring as he bares his teeth. "I had said no falsehood would bring you grace, and you attempt to trick me regardless?!" He barks, clutching the dough close to his chest and hissing as the family startles. Honeycrisp finally shows some emotion, her eyes widening in fear, but Shadow Milk merely grins. "How can one claim to love a child, and give it up so freely to a stranger? You know not my name nor my intentions, and you show no concern for any but yourself!" He whips his head around to glare at her family behind her, meeting their terrified gazes as his disguise melts away. "And you! You all let her! How much could you love this little creature, if no one tried to stop her! What a terrific lie to try to sell to me!"

Shadows explode around them, lashing tendrils clinging onto limbs of cookies as he rises into the air, little dough held carefully as he can manage. He doesn't bother watching, turning his attention to the little girl he holds as the screams of her "family" ring out behind them. They get what they have earned, abandoning their creation as they have. To be rended limb from limb, crumbs crushed into mulch, it's the least they deserve. Pah. Terrible, terrible lie, claiming to love her as they toss her away so carelessly. How lucky this little Candy Apple is, that her creators can be properly punished for their indiscretions.

"How unfortunate, that lie of theirs." Shadow Milk tuts, shaking his head as he pulls the swaddle just a touch more snug. "A particularly cruel one, don't you agree?" He asks the little girl, who doesn't respond. She's only an infant, after all. "And now, what to do with you, hm?"

He doesn't need a child. Doesn't particularly want one, either. Black Sapphire fulfills all his needs, curiosity put to rest at last, his experiment over and done with. Little doughballs like this aren't very fun to play with, either. He hums, opening a portal to his Other Realm, ducking inside for a brief moment.

There is the question, however, on if near-death was necessary if a cookie was young enough. And besides, one test does not make a successful experiment. Repetition is key, in reality. There is also the fact that Shadow Milk hates to waste good resources. And, though it's not very relevant, Black Sapphire might appreciate company closer to his age.

Shadow Milk hums, snapping his fingers to make a bottle appear, and after reaching through a few more portals he gathers some fruits to juice. "How about this! If you survive, I'll keep you. Doesn't that sound just swell!" Shadow Milk snickers, letting the shadows form a cradle to hold the infant inside, as he mixes a new tincture. No poison, but with enough magical strength it's not as if that'll matter. "You'll just love the spire, you know. It'll be like you were made for it."

Shadow Milk keeps an eye on their development, and perhaps becomes a bit more attentive to them than he'd initially desired. Still, though, he doesn't try to sell to them the lie that he cared. He's got some standards, and that's a line he wouldn't dare cross. Plus, it'd clash with his image, and be pretty unbelievable. Everyone knows the Beast is as selfish as they come, and the Beast's pets were no exception.

They hardly require any of his attention, anyhow. There were plenty of pests ready and able to do the caring, if Shadow Milk is meant to put up with them the least they could do is care for his things while he was away, and any who got too big for their britches were easily disposed of. Shadow Milk always keeps a close eye on the children, and always knows when he needs to step in. Preserving them is essential, as how else was he meant to find the results of his experiment successful if he doesn't?

Which is, well, how he ends up in predicaments like this.

A week ago, Black Sapphire had started complaining of massive headaches. Unusual, troublesome, but not really something Shadow Milk needed to intervene in so much as keep an eye on. On Sapphy's worst days, Shadow Milk kept his room inaccessible, but most others it didn't much matter. Headaches were just headaches, after all. Annoying, a fact Shadow Milk knew quite well, but not detrimental. Again, Shadow Milk knows that well. After a helpful little gnat gave Black Sapphire some tips for managing said headaches, Shadow Milk had dismissed it entirely.

Of course, when Black Sapphire collapsed with jam leaking from his nose quite profusely, then it started to matter quite a bit more.

No one knows, just yet, that Shadow Milk has made his return. Candy Apple has been quarantined from Saph since his little tumble and the gnats had been blocked from reaching his room entirely when they went out to retrieve supplies. Shadow Milk wants them to have no part in this, especially if things start to quickly go south. Shadow Milk has said, in the past, that if Black Sapphire were to crumble it'd be by his own hand. He hates when he's not the one to break his things.

It's quite similar to that time, really. Shadow Milk sits on Sapphy's bed, wiping the jam away with a wet cloth, occasionally helping calm the child through his brief moments of lucidity. Except, this time, there are no moments of lucidity, and the jam doesn't run quite as much. Black Sapphire doesn't appear to have anything wrong with him, either, save a fever.

It can't be that simple, though. Black Sapphire has rarely fallen ill, and none of those illnesses had been more debilitating than a light cough. Besides, no symptoms he has matches up with any maladies Shadow Milk knows of, and he knows of quite a few. So, Shadow Milk sits at his bedside, occasionally checking to see if his fever had gone down, quietly muttering to himself some theories about what, exactly, was occurring.

"Is Sapphy gonna be okay?" Shadow Milk restrains his flinch, only just barely, as he whirls his head to face the little girl who really shouldn't be here. The hallways are sealed, explicitly to keep everyone out, and everyone includes her. But Candy Apple is still there, and it's not hard to see how. With the debris in her hair and the dirt on her clothes, as well as the rabbit construct she clung to the same as she squeezes her dolls, she hitched a ride with some aspect of the spire that must have wanted her here.

Shadow Milk isn't one to let on when he's been caught off guard, though, and she's not someone deserving of knowing she'd managed such a miraculous feat. "Of course he is!" Shadow Milk declares with a bright grin. "He's got my full attention, right? How could he not get better when I'm around!" Candy Apple scrunches her nose, before letting out a little harrumph.

She struggles to climb up onto the bed, flapping her little wings madly to help herself get leverage, before crawling up to plop herself down right beside poor Sapphire. Shadow Milk reaches over to pluck a few pieces of debris from her hair as she snuggles up against Black Sapphire's side, eyes tightly squeezed shut. "You'll really make him okay?"

"Hmmmm, I suppose that depends." Shadow Milk responds, waiting for her to crack one eye open and look at him before he pokes her cheek. "On whether little pests like you stay out of my way and let me work. You'll be a good little girl, right?"

"Of course! Anything for you!" Candy Apple declares, but instead of taking that as her cue to leave she just throws her arm over Saph's chest and squeezes closer. "I'll stay out of the way! Promise!"

Shadow Milk shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but it's not like she's really hindering anything. So, he lets her stay. Despite all reasons not to. It'll keep her less fussy, later, anyhow.

So, he cares for the both of them for two days in total; both spent fighting off Black Sapphire's fever, and his sudden deep sleep that he doesn't wake from for the entire duration. It's not until the second day, and not until late in the evening when Shadow Milk is attempting to force some soup down Black Sapphire's throat, that Black Sapphire experiences a change in his disposition.

Shadow Milk almost doesn't notice it, really. It's such a slight change, hard to see, but then— Black Sapphire wakes. And it's quite easy to see the new addition of an extra eye when it suddenly flies open, and the person newly in possession of it is hyperventilating.

Though it takes some time to coax Black Sapphire down— and some help from Candy Apple, who's interruptions manage to do some good by distracting Saph— they manage just fine soon enough. And though the headache remains, the newly acquired third angle of vision gives him vertigo among other issues, and the fever hasn't died yet— Black Sapphire is better off than before. Because, now at least, Shadow Milk knows what the problem was.

It's a relief to know it was just another side effect of the experiment, and quite an interesting one. It's not a true fleshy eye, more akin to the ones that line the shadows of Shadow Milk's own hair, but the symptoms make more sense now that he knows what they were about. Black Sapphire's body must have just decided to undergo that magical transformation, and overextended itself after the unconscious casting took hold. Knowing that, Shadow Milk knows the only thing Black Sapphire needs is more rest, fluids, and some energy-rich foods. All things easy to provide, and not any hassle.

Given it's origin, it's not unlikely to theorize Candy Apple would one day go through something similar, or that Black Sapphire would continue to occasionally gain extra vision like that. So Shadow Milk makes careful note of the signs, and begins to plot out how to treat it in the future. That's all just a side project, though. For the moment, he just needs to focus on getting Black Sapphire's fever down. And keeping Candy Apple from sticking her fingers in Saph's new eye.

A couple years, a few new rules, and an overly excitable Candy Apple makes for an interesting turn of events. It's not often the children get sick, Black Sapphire at a stunningly low frequency of five times in his time at the Spire (and only two actively concerning), and Candy Apple at the even more stunning only once (at the same time as Black Sapphire, actually, because he brought back a bug he caught after running an errand or two out near the salt lands). That is to say, they're pretty sturdy in the health department.

Shadow Milk's kept an eye on each occurrence, but apart from the twice he'd thought Saph was going to die on him, he's never intervened. Never really needed to. In most scenarios, the two were able to manage themselves just fine. If they weren't, there were plenty of pests swarming the spire that could lend a hand. It's a system that has always worked, and should, in theory, continue to.

However, a broken arm changes things drastically. At the very least, when it's Candy Apple who's the injured party.

She's not, often, sent on errands. She's young and impulsive, and to send her alone would be more than just foolish. Ten years is not enough time to develop a fine-tuned sense for consequences, apparently, and she's not quite concerned with upping the pace on that. Mostly, she does the same sort of fun, inconsequential tasks Black Sapphire had done at the same age, learning opportunities one could say. Stirring up some trouble in places that were a bit on-edge, or places that weren't on-edge enough. She always does this with an escort; most often Black Sapphire, there to gather gossip for his show or even on rare occasion just to monitor her. Apart from that, she's only outside of the spire to play in the forests with Black Sapphire, so one would think she's rather bereft of opportunity to injure herself. And, apparently, one would be wrong.

Shadow Milk doesn't remember, exactly, what it was to do it and why. He just remembers, as he was having some fun playing with his newest puppets (a rather fine village, though a bit unwelcoming), suddenly noticing a flicker in his vision that unsettled him. He keeps an eye on the children most days, though not always an attentive one. To manage so much visual input, you had to learn to prioritize and delegate some eyes to be purely peripheral. So, it hadn't been something he'd witnessed until the aftermath.

Of course, he'd immediately switched his attention to that eye he'd kept on Candy Apple, and he'd certainly been rather surprised to see her prodding at a perfectly injured arm, as if the pain had yet to fully register. It had been a shame, then, to cut his show short, but two cookies who'd never witnessed an injury of that caliber before were not equipped to handle the situation. He'd managed it, and playfully scolded Candy Apple for the mistake in the first place. As far as he'd been concerned, at the time, he thought that'd be the end of it.

Slap a cast on the arm, give her a sling, tell her not to break herself further. Simple, easy things. He's no healer, and broken limbs were always tricky things to heal anyhow. Plus, dealing with her injury as any ordinary cookie would had seemed a good consequence for her carelessness anyhow. Everything was all fine and settled with that, right? WRONG. Oh, so, hilariously wrong.

Candy Apple wouldn't know the meaning of self-preservation if you tossed a dictionary straight at her face as you sang a thesaurus, she was well and truly a reckless, fearless little fool. (Ten years old, and not a lick of sense!) The very moment Shadow Milk had turned to leave back to his fun, she'd practically slammed her arm into a wall just to "test the durability of the cast". She'd screamed with the pain of it that time, so she hadn't done it intentionally since, but unintentionally?

Shadow Milk has, then, decided that she's on bed rest entirely. And to keep her on bed rest, as she certainly didn't listen to anyone else, Shadow Milk is stuck in the spire with her. And, even then, it was a task and a half to actually keep her from running about and hurting herself within the spire.

Hassle. Every sense of the word. And he's only barely a week in.

" I wanna go outside!" Candy Apple whines, as Shadow Milk places her back in bed after yet another escape attempt. She doesn't fight him— more isn't able to, with the one arm a dud and the other busy holding onto her beloved rabbit plush, as he tucks the blankets tightly around her, and then places the tray of food he'd spent the last thirty minutes preparing (the task that allowed her to attempt escape at all) on her lap. She pouts, slowly wiggling her free hand out so she can grab her spoon and begin poking at her bowl. "It's stuffy and boring in here!"

"Complain all you want, Candy, I'm not too inclined to chop off your arm, and that's the direction we're headed if you keep re-injuring it." Shadow Milk rolls his eyes as he drifts back to the chair he'd set up for himself, slumping into it with a muted groan. "Just. For once. Settle down."

"At least let me sit in the garden!" Candy Apple argues, dropping her spoon in her oatmeal and slamming her hand down on her tray. Which, of course, flips it over, off the bed, spilling her meal all over her floor in a loud, messy clatter. She freezes as she looks down at the massive spill, as Shadow Milk tiredly rolls his eyes up to the ceiling for the nth time today alone, and the silence hangs in the air. "… sorry." She says meekly, flinching slightly.

"I'm not making you another bowl." Shadow Milk grumbles, and with a snap Candy Apple disappears, a card fluttering down onto her newly-emptied mattress. He remains in his chair, for a moment, building up the will to move again. When he rises into the air once again, he swipes her card off the bed and leaves.

Black Sapphire's in a kitchen, preparing his own late breakfast, so it only takes a moment to dip his head in and snap an order to bring another plate of whatever he was making to the garden, before darting away again. Candy Apple is trying his patience, but he won't have her starve. A missed meal could stall healing, after all.

Candy Apple's muted voice chirps from the card a few times as he turns corners or zips past the few idiots too brave or stupid to reconsider trying to talk to him, but he doesn't hear whatever it is she's trying to say. He doesn't really try. And once he reaches the courtyard garden, a loathsome place really, he raises her card just enough to give her a good view.

"When I let you out, you're going to sit and you're going to eat, understand? And, once you are done, we're going back to your room. No running, no playing, just. Rest. The sooner you heal, the sooner you can do whatever you want again, but you wont heal if you don't let yourself." Shadow Milk lightly shakes the card for emphasis, turning it so he can see her image. Only once she nods does he let her out and, thankfully, she listens. For once.

Good. Great. Using the card really isn't good for injured cookies.

It doesn't take long for Black Sapphire to join them, handing Candy Apple a plate of pancakes already pre-cut for her, as well as a side of a few apple slices. He stays to eat his breakfast with them, and he remains a grand distraction for Candy Apple, allowing Shadow Milk to relax for a moment. It's so exhausting having to hover over them, all the time. Why did he get stuck with two troublesome pests?

It's good to see her smile again, at the least. He doesn't really get it, the garden is both a mess and nothing of any value to anyone. The flowers are weeds and overgrown and the place is filled with mess from the number of rabbit constructs that saw fit to tear it all apart, and there's way too many milkcrowns in bloom. It's unsightly at the least.

But, he supposes if she likes it enough that the occasional visit will make her relax while she's healing, well. It'll be worth letting her visit, so long as she doesn't do anything terribly stupid. He knows how stuffy the spire gets, and at least the garden has fresh air. Ah, fine. He'll let her have this much. It won't set her healing back.

Shadow Milk lounges in the air above them, keeping a single lazy eye on the children as they enjoy their meal. It's… quaint. Boring, but not terribly so. Still, he can't wait to be done with this. He has some amazing plans for what he'll do once it's over.

Maybe he'll pick up an errand or two for the children to busy themselves with, too. They certainly can't be faring much better. He can't imagine them content to stay in the spire any longer than they absolutely must.