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Shadow Milk isn't sure what he was meant to do anymore.
He's always lived his life hoping from one goal to the next; spreading Knowledge and magic across Earthbread, then harbor lies and nurturing deceit within cookies and then retrieving his missing SoulJam. But now?
He's not sure why he's living at all.
It's not like he can tell Pure Vanilla about it- he could, but he won't. He'll get a whole speech about finding a new hobby or learning to enjoy the simple things in life. To live like a real cookie.
Well guess what? He already tried; the whole reason he fell is because it didn't work.
Living as a normal cookie wasn't possible then because he was anchored down as a virtue; unchanging, predictable, and all knowing. How could the Fount be a normal cookie when they weren't intended to be one?
Similarly, Shadow Milk was meant to be a response. A haunting reminder that the Fount died, and that the cookies were to blame. That their death was preventable, but they did nothing to stop it from happening.
Therefore, Shadow Milk did not live like a real cookie. Always scheming; always hiding within his Spire as he planned his next performance. There was never time for rest.
Now, in the Vanilla Kingdom, that's all he ever has.
Time to ponder his existence, and the possibility of a future he never planned out. Because he never had the idea that this would end; plunging the world into deceit and ruling it was meant to be the closing act, yet the play continues.
The ending has been changed by another author, and so he sits in his changing room, waiting for his cue. If it were his sudden demise, or an encore before his departure, he wasn't sure. He was simply told to live, but what was living in the first place?
It can't be so... mundane.
Because so far, all Shadow Milk does is respond. If Pure Vanilla wants to have dinner with him, sometimes he'll go. If he wants to go to the markets, he'll hover behind him like a ghost. And if the town's people bother him? He'll make sure they don't ever again.
But it can't just be that. If he's just meant to bumble around like common folk, then he rather crumble on the spot, because he's already done that.
He's done everything a cookie with one lifetime could only hope for; read every book, visited every continent and country, and tasted every cuisine there was to offer. Shadow Milk has done everything and no longer knows what he's meant to do.
Maybe that's why Pure Vanilla is giving him those concerned looks, lately. The scrunched-up brows, the small frowns when he thinks he can't see, and the worried, almost piercing looks saying 'talk to me.'
And maybe he just couldn't! Maybe he can't tell Pure Vanilla that sometimes he wished that he'd leave him alone but also wanted him to never leave. Maybe he can't tell him that he dreams of ripping him apart limb by limb and then spending the rest of the morning making sure each part is still attached.
Maybe, just as he didn't as the Fount, Shadow Milk does not know what he wants anymore. Maybe he never did.
So here he is out in the fields, wearing a black, frilly dress accompanied by a matching bonnet and umbrella, watching as the world keeps turning. He's not sure how long he's been here.
All he does know is that the rabbits keeping him company aren't supposed to be here.
They wear the garbs he sewed for them, and they frolic through the tall grass and flowers; but they always return to him. He doesn't call them, nor does he attempt to keep them. They just come back to him like the loyal pets they are.
Shadow Milk isn't sure when he began to care for them; they've always followed him, no matter what stage of life he entered. Their roles were changed and rewritten time and again; they were also, admittedly, quite weak for defense. But he kept them; still gave them room in his domain, a place to eat.
Maybe he should get rid of them. They take up too much space...
Shadow Milk's ears twitch at the sound of approaching footsteps, a grimace growing on his face. A day undisturbed would have been nice; but with such a good-hearted cookie soul-bounded to him, he knew it wouldn't last.
He doesn't turn towards him or acknowledge his presence even when Pure Vanilla is directly next to him. Shadow Milk says nothing as the healer sits down next to him, keeping his star straight ahead. He didn't need to; the bonnet blocked him well enough.
Shadow Milk's glad he doesn't touch him or tries to anyway. He just hasn't had the patience for it, and any touch ends up feeling like roaches crawling through his dough. That's mostly why the dress was so frilly, really.
A breeze passed over them, a chill signaling the beginnings of fall. Maybe that's why he's been so dreary; it'll be cold soon.
Something softly pressed against his hip, startling him slightly. Glancing down, he finds a ram butting against him, but not any ram.
This ram had a reddish birthmark in the shape of a star on their head; their eyes delicately closed; curved horns; and bell attached to their collar. On the bell, the emblem of the SoulJam of Truth shone proudly.
Shadow Milk scoffed, his back tensing up as bitterness coats his words. "What do you think this will achieve, Pure Vanilla?"
The ram let out a little baa and nudged his hip this time, pawing at the grass ground. Shadow Milk shifted away. "Leave. I will not tolerate your idiocy today," the beast snarled.
This did not dissuade the ram. Instead, he lay down on his side and placed his head onto Shadow Milk's lap. Even with the beast's hiss, he does not move. Minutes pass, and then the ram feels gloved hands stroking his horns.
"What game are you playing?" Shadow Milk mumbles quietly.
Pure Vanilla isn't one for shapeshifting- it's a new ability he gained after the Spire, and no matter how much Shadow Milk tries to teach the healer, he still isn't the best at it. But he can- it's just rare when he does.
Which is what confusing him now; the ram, a perfectly stable shift, spending time with him. It was seamless, thoughtless, and utterly pointless, but he still shifted for him.
Shadow Milk wishes it didn't stir fondness within him.
The rabbits were now bundling up close to the ram, soaking in the warmth of the wool. The ram let out a content baa and nuzzled into his stomach.
And slowly, it was easier to breathe around him. Because he could convince himself that this wasn't really Pure Vanilla, just a lowly ram who took interest in him. That no one would hear him or listen to what he says right now; it'll be him, the rabbits, and the ram.
And so, Shadow Milk looked down at the ram and covered the birthmark with his gloved thumb. The ram let out a baa in confusion, and then Shadow Milk spoke.
"Be quiet," he whispered only once.
The ram tilted his head but said nothing more.
Shadow Milk looked at the sky; white, fluffy clouds pass over them, and he scoffs.
"They're different, now," he reminisces softly. "The clouds. The water that makes them up is more polluted, sullied by both time and cookie-kind itself. A miserable end to such beauty..." he mumbles, almost mournful in his recount.
His grip on the umbrella tightens, and in the shadows of its shade do the eyes appear; the kind that bore into your soul.
"There is nothing left of my era. Nothing. Not even the stars I once observed the birth of exist anymore; they've all died out. So, what is left for me to mourn?" he ponders, his fingers digging into the ram's wool.
The ram nudges his stomach and whines, to which Shadow Milk releases his hold on him. He looks down at the ram, his eyes devoid of emotion. "Was I truly meant to be happy in my monotonous existence?"
The eyes in the shadows tear up. "I never got to make the choice to live like that. Never had the chance to grow into my role; I was just expected to be. And maybe that was the problem; I never wanted to be baked in the first place."
Shadow Milk leans over the ram. His umbrella is dropped as his arms wrap around the ram's torso, lifting it farther onto his lap. He mumbles his next words into his neck.
"Stupidly, I wonder, if you had been there during my time as a virtue- would I have not fallen? Would I have accepted your offer of friendship? Steer myself away from corruption and become someone else? Or was I doomed from the very start?" Shadow Milk muffles into his wool, and the ram lets out a concerned sound, tilting his head back to lick his cheek.
Shadow Milk wiped the spit off with the back of his hand and sighed. "I always dreamed of flying away. I told my friends, once, and they thought I was being silly. 'You can already fly!' they'd tell me, but I wanted to leave.
"I wanted to dance among the stars, to be a part of them. I wanted to get myself as far away as I could from that land, and the night sky was my only dream. Wouldn't that be nice?"
The rabbits, which had been passively observing them, suddenly sprang into action. Shadow Milk gasped as one hopped right into his face and clung to it, nuzzling into his cheek in an attempt to comfort. The others follow by example, and Shadow Milk falls back onto the grass and is hounded by a hoard of rabbits.
"Stop it this instant! I did not command this!" He hissed, but no matter how much he pulled, the rabbits were determined to comfort their master.
He was so distracted that he hadn't noticed Pure Vanilla shift back. When the rabbit on his face is finally pried off, he is met with the kind smile of his lover, and he scowls as blush colors his cheeks. "What are you looking at, sap?"
Pure Vanilla hesitates to reach out to him, to hold his cheek. When Shadow Milk doesn't pull away, he strokes the mark over his right eye gently. His eyes held pure adoration in them.
"I would have loved to be your friend in any way you'd have me," he told him honestly, his voice sweet and loving.
Shadow Milk rolled his eyes and held the rabbit in his arms firmly against his chest. "Don't patronize me, Pure Vanilla. I'm not in the mood."
"Oh, but I'm not, my dear," Pure Vanilla hums, leaning down inches away from his face. "I'm simply clearing away your doubts. No matter what form you take, I'll always love you, Shadow Milk."
The beast squeezed the rabbit and looked away from the saint. "You tell me this all the time, yet they never become any more believable, Nilly," Shadow Milk mumbles, his voice growing quiet.
Pure Vanilla lays down beside him and the rabbits, his hand brushing the sides of his gown. He looks up at the blue sky and smiles. "Then I'll keep reminding you till you believe me, and we’ll take it one day at a time," he happily tells him.
"You're wasting your time on me."
"It's time well spent, then."
So, they lay in the field, together and whole. The rabbits continue to graze and play, and the one in his arms remains content where they were. The clouds continued to pass them, but the pot of unease that had gathered in his chest unraveled slowly.
The Sun sets, and the Moon takes its rightful place in the sky. It's a crescent moon tonight and surrounding her light are the stars he no longer recognizes.
But maybe he can learn them again. Maybe he could learn to live again.
Shadow Milk glances at Pure Vanilla, the healer calmly watching the stars twinkle, and thinks he could live again.