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The Fount of Knowledge was known as a lot of things.
The Fount of Knowledge, Messenger of the Witches, and the Witches Favourite Creation to the public. Though the last one was coined because of the other Virtues.
Professor Fount to his students.
Blueberry Milk to the Virtues.
Fount enjoyed his titles. He really did!
Sometimes that's exactly what they were though. It's all he was. A title. Of course his fellow Virtues used his real name but he rarely saw them so it's as if they never learned it.
He was created to spread knowledge, to give the word of the Witches.
It's all he was created to do.
He knows that. He wished he didn't but that would go against the idea of him having all knowledge.
Fount sat in front of the mirror, usual long robe that swallowed him had been cast to the side, leaving him in his body suit that fit him like a second skin. The sleeves were long and had built in gloves, letting only his fingers be bare. The pants were full and had a strip of fabric on the ends that wrapped around the bottom of his foot so the legs didn't roll up.
It was really a second skin.
It fit him perfectly, very restrictive. It may fit like a glove but his actual skin could barely breathe in it. It suffocates him.
He looked over at his staff on the ground beside him.
Maybe his clothing wasn't the only thing that suffocated him.
Fount. No. Shadow Milk.
Shadow Milk kneeled on the ground, staring at his reflection. The fork prong that acted as a jail cell gave off the faintest of glows, only enough for Shadow Milk to see the shackles that had his neck snugly in their grasp.
He thrashed and attempted to pull them off.
Even a moment, just enough to get a good gasp of air, would make everything better than before.
Instead he was met with more shackles that fastened around his wrists, pinning them to the floor.
He can't try that again.
He stared past the bars and into the darkness that laid just beyond it.
If he stays where he was he'd never be able to try anything again.
The more he thrashed and attempted to free himself the tighter the shackles became. Like a snake slowly squeezing the life and air out of its next meal.
As his vision faded in an out he caught a glance of himself in the reflection of the bars. The purple around his neck assured him that purple was not his colour.
Shadow Milk. Blueberry Milk sat in front of the mirror and carefully traced the marks on his neck.
"They are so ugly." Blueberry Milk muttered to himself.
Healing the marks from his time in the tree was impossible. His new body wasn't even baked with them, they just appeared.
A constant reminder of how fickle his attempt of Freedom was.
"Now bluebird." Pure Vanilla's voice breaking through Blueberry Milk's thoughts. "They are a reminder of how far you've come." Pure Vanilla sat with the jester, pulling him close.
Blueberry Milk just sighed. "They're a reminder of how much Fount would hate everything I've done." He watched as Pure Vanilla grabbed his wrist, carefully running his thumb over the many scars, some long faded, some fresh and one as pigmented as the day he got it.
"I think he'd be thrilled with how you've grown, proud even! Even with all the bad you've done. You started teaching again, you're writing plays." Pure Vanilla moved his free hand to cup Blueberry Milk's cheek, the gold band on his ring finger shining in the mirror's reflection. "You have two children who are happy and healthy, that are doing some amazing things. You've gotten married and have your friends back." Blueberry Milk leaned into Pure Vanilla's touch, enjoying the slight warmth emanating from it.
"The scars show how much you've been through to gain your freedom." Pure Vanilla kissed Blueberry Milk softly, the jester happily reciprocating. "A well deserved freedom."
Blueberry Milk hummed and looked down at his wrists. "Maybe I can start keeping these uncovered. The long sleeves are kinda stuffy in the summer." He didn't need to look at Pure Vanilla to see the smile on his face.
"I'll let you finish getting ready. I cannot believe you managed to invite every kingdom to dinner without a single threat." Pure Vanilla joked slightly as he stood up. Blueberry Milk gave a bright smile. "What can I say? You can't say no to the Great Blueberry Milk! I'm too irresistible!"
Pure Vanilla rolled his eyes at the jester's antics. "Oh I'm sure that's it. Finish getting ready and I'll do your hair before your guests arrive. I'm going to check on everything."
Blueberry Milk watched as Pure Vanilla left the room before turning back to his scars. His gaze caught the ring on his left hand, causing him to smile to himself.
Blueberry Milk looked up and stared at the reflection. The Fount of Knowledge's staff was leaning against the bed he shared with Pure Vanilla. Blueberry Milk smiled softly to himself.
Maybe Pure Vanilla was right.
Fount would be proud.