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thebiscuitlabryinth · 1 month ago

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The final act is coming, any day now.

Shadow Milk has been burning with a latent anticipation ever since Pure Vanilla had first resonated with the Soul Jam again. The sheer strike of giddiness he had felt in that precious moment, when he felt that distantly nostalgic power reach weakly for Pure Vanilla, is possibly unmatched.

That anticipation has only worsened as the weeks drag on, simmering in his dough like a stewing pot. Standing indefinitely on the brink of this grand finale, so close to getting everything he wants, leaves Shadow Milk noticeably restless. He pretends it is adrenaline from the ever-increasing waves of Wafflebot attacks, and assists Pure Vanilla with the almost constant stream of patients as if he isn’t eagerly puzzling out plans for what to do next, once the Soul Jam manifests in full.

Shadow Milk feels it, when Dark Enchantress Cookie is released from the Moonstone. He feels it as the kickback of Dark Moon Magic stirs the stagnant nothing of his other-realm and ripples through him like a courteous reminder. He straightens up at the sensation, all of his eyes immediately darting over to Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla feels it too. He must, because it is his own spell that is breaking and, whether he remembers it or not, it is still connected to him energetically. Shadow Milk watches him stiffen, sitting at the perfect angle to see the confusion that pinches his mouth as he briefly shudders through the magical kickback. He is also sitting at the perfect angle, out of direct eyeshot of the few patients in the tent, to allow himself an indulgent, hungry smile.

Yes, the final act is coming, any second now.

Sure enough, it is only a few hours later that a loud commotion kicks up outside the healer’s tent, an argument of clashing voices rather than the usual sounds of Wafflebot attack. The noise disturbs the patients, which in turn makes Pure Vanilla agitated, though he is obviously doing his best to ignore it.

“What are they talking about outside to cause such a racket?” Pure Vanilla murmurs in coiling frustration as he heals a particularly nasty looking head wound. “The patients need as much peace and quiet as possible.”

Shadow Milk takes that as his cue, haphazardly finishing the bandaging he was in the middle of doing and ignoring the patient’s wince when he tightens it a little too tight. Instead, he turns to Pure Vanilla and asks breezily, “Want me to go tell them to shut up?”

Pure Vanilla coughs out a little laugh, a smile peeking through his stress as his shoulders loosen slightly. “Maybe not quite that bluntly but yes, if you could.”

Shadow Milk makes a noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, hopping to his feet and brushing dust off of his patchwork costume. As always, he leaves some of his eyes in Pure Vanilla’s shadow, keeping especially close watch for any meaningful Soul Jam development as he sweeps out into the daylight.

Good timing too, because a band of scraggly little Cookies come screeching right to the front of the tent, barely skidding to a frantic stop when he abruptly pops out and blocks their way in. The tent flap quietly slides closed behind him.

“Can you all kindly shut up out here?” Shadow Milk shouts, projecting his voice over the buzzing of the insects and placing his hands sternly on his hips. “There are some poor, injured patients who are in desperate need of actual rest, and they can’t get that with all this yelling!”

“You–!” Black Raisin starts with the sharp glare she always greets him with, but she cuts herself off as she casts a glance back to the healer’s tent. Clearly, she must have registered his words and realised Pure Vanilla sent him out, because she lowers her voice to something quieter, though no less barbed. “Look, just tell Healer that I’m taking care of some outlanders that breached the village and stay out of it. I don’t have time to deal with you right now.”

Shadow Milk turns back to the group of newcomers, evaluating them for a moment. They really are a ramshackle group of itty-bitty Cookies, most of them barely out of the oven and hopelessly stupid from a first glance. He snorts in mock disbelief. “These guys managed to breach the village?”

“Not just that, they managed to defeat some of the Wafflebots!” One of the other villagers interjects, sounding slightly out of breath. They must have been chasing these teensy Cookies.

Shadow Milk doesn’t consider that a very impressive feat at all, and it does nothing to change his opinion on the overall insignificance of these Cookies. Still, he pretends to consider it, idly glancing back at Black Raisin. She narrows her eyes at him, jerking her chin slightly as if to shoo him back into the healer’s tent, and Shadow Milk grins slowly back.

“Daaarling!” He calls, which is a new nickname, but one that is worth it, if only for the way it makes Black Raisin’s eye twitch. “It looks like we have some little outlander guests.”

From his non-physical eyes, Shadow Milk sees Pure Vanilla pause for a moment in pleasant surprise as he stems a patient’s leaking jam. “Guests? Oh, let them come in, I want to hear from them. They’re not hurt, are they?”

“Not at all!” The playking chirps as Shadow Milk turns to open the tent flap again, waving his little sceptre around in childish boast. “My faithful servants are strong. Even if they weren’t, I, Custard Cookie III, would ensure their safety, as any good king should!”

Shadow Milk notices how Pure Vanilla softens the moment he hears how young the voice is. He tsks under his breath, unsurprised, as Pure Vanilla replies playfully, “A king? My, what an honour has graced our humble village.”

“No, Healer, you don’t understand.” Black Raisin insists, a frazzled exasperation in her voice. She pushes past Shadow Milk none too gently to enter the healer’s tent and talk to Pure Vanilla herself. “These outlanders breached the village. They cannot be trusted!”

Pure Vanilla sighs heavily. “Black Raisin, I have told you countless times before that it does you no good to completely close your heart to every stranger you encounter.”

As the two bicker in hushed tones, Shadow Milk takes the opportunity to turn back to their guests and hold open the tent flap for them, gesturing inside. “Come on. Don’t worry about her, she’s always acting rashly like that. I’ve been here for months and she still doesn’t trust me.”

Because Shadow Milk has been provoking her, but they don’t need to know that.

“Well, if that’s true, we have no absolutely no hope of gaining her trust.” The amateur wizard grumbles dejectedly into his scarf. “I just hope she doesn’t decide to start chasing us around again. It’s starting to get exhausting.”

“Hey, don’t say that! It’s like she said, we’ve just got to prove that we can be trustworthy.” The boy with the candy cane chimes, aggravatingly optimistic as they duck under Shadow Milk’s arm into the tent, one by one. He follows closely behind them, his anticipation pacing between his ribs.

It can’t be a coincidence that they appeared so shortly after Dark Enchantress’ release. Though even Shadow Milk can’t precisely predict what will unfold, he knows that their arrival acts as a catalyst.

The tent is cramped, now packed with patients and guests alike. Black Raisin must have been reluctantly pacified by Pure Vanilla, as she always is, because she stands to the side and does nothing to stop their guests from settling down, aside from giving them a wary glance. Shadow Milk largely ignores her, making a beeline towards his spot by Pure Vanilla’s side and plopping down as Pure Vanilla warmly greets the newcomers.

The patients are mostly settled for now, which would allow Shadow Milk to focus entirely on the budding conversation, if he cared about it. He doesn’t though, uninterested with the introductions and pleasantries and exposition for the most part. Time feels like it is crawling incredibly slow, impatience humming through his dough as he sits through their chatter, waiting for something interesting to happen.

“What is the Vanilla Kingdom?” Pure Vanilla asks, sincerely curious, and Shadow Milk bites down on the laugh that threatens to escape him, tilting his head back to glance at the slanting ceiling. Still, the turn in conversation gives him a shot of clarity, and he realises exactly how this will all play out. Or, at least, he knows exactly how he will make it play out, if it doesn’t flow that way naturally.

The final act has come, and Pure Vanilla has to confront the Truth of his past.

The guests drone on and on about how amazing the Vanilla Kingdom is, until Pure Vanilla suddenly gasps. He turns towards Shadow Milk, hand patting around to finally squeeze his knee. “Wait- could they be talking about the castle in the sky?”

The peanut gallery makes some shocked exclamations at that, but Shadow Milk hums smoothly, setting his hand over Pure Vanilla’s hand as his eagerness peeks through his words. “It must be! That’s the only other thing around here for miles, and I promise you, it definitely looks like a kingdom.”

“Wait, wait, you haven’t explained what this castle in the sky thing is yet, and we haven’t seen anything like that. There’s no way it’s real!” The thief scoffs, crossing her arms.

“Well, I haven’t seen it either,” Pure Vanilla says, a hint of laughter lacing his own joke as his hand absentmindedly slips out from under Shadow Milk’s, “but I know it must exist. That’s where all the Wafflebots come from, with every coming of the crimson moon.”

“The Wafflebots?” The playking yelps, shaking his head furiously. “No, no, that can’t possibly be the Vanilla Kingdom then. They would never attack other Cookies!”

As if to prove him wrong, it is then that a metallic shriek rattles through the air, the warning cry of another wave of Wafflebots. In the ensuing panic, Black Raisin rushes out of the healer’s tent with their guests hot on her heels, probably eager to help and prove their trustworthiness, as they said. That leaves Shadow Milk with Pure Vanilla, as always, with a few resting patients blending into the background.

“This attack sounds even louder than before.” Pure Vanilla frowns, head upturned towards the approaching buzz. He’s right – it sounds like an absolute swarm. Shadow Milk’s fingers twitch with restlessness, taking it as a sign, an omen. “Do you think the Wafflebots managed to get past the defences to us?”

Shadow Milk has, thus far, done his absolute best to steer Pure Vanilla away from the Wafflebots’ path. He needs to keep Pure Vanilla alive to have any hope of recovering the Soul Jam, after all. It has never been too hard anyway, since the patients that Pure Vanilla needs to tend to are always piling up as a good distraction from silly thoughts of rushing out like a hero. Now, though, Shadow Milk thinks it is time for a risk.

He swears he can hear the faint ringing of the Soul Jam, cloaked in the hum of encroaching machinery. His twitching fingers squeeze into fists, itching, itching, itching, before relaxing again.

“I don’t know.” He declares, getting to his feet and grabbing Pure Vanilla’s staff. He holds it out to him, tapping it against Pure Vanilla’s side. “Let’s go check. Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Good idea. We should make sure the tent is still safe and secure before more patients arrive.” Pure Vanilla nods, taking his staff, steadying it against the ground and pulling himself to his feet.

Outside, the noise is deafening, almost as bad as the very first time the Wafflebots descended. Shadow Milk watches with a rising satisfaction as their harsh silhouettes draw ever closer, closing in on the healer’s tent through a dense thicket of fog. That’s good. That means he can pull off his experiment. Or rather, his challenge.

“They sound close.” Pure Vanilla mutters fretfully, the smallest questioning tilt at the end of his sentence. He wants confirmation.

“They are really close. And there are so many of them too.” Shadow Milk injects an artificial waver into his voice, stepping closer to Pure Vanilla to the point of hedging into his personal space, a protective move masquerading as a fearful one. A failsafe, in case this challenge doesn’t pan out, because he still needs Pure Vanilla alive to get the Soul Jam. “How are there so many of them? What- what should we do?”

His voice cracks on that question, just enough to make it sound vulnerable, and that is all that matters. Plain Yogurt goes along with Pure Vanilla’s requests or polite orders often enough, but he doesn’t tend to ask for them. No, Plain Yogurt is more prone to figuring it out himself or offering help his own way, if not taking the lead entirely.

But Pure Vanilla has to face his past, and that includes the crushing weight of being a leader in a crisis. Shadow Milk knows Pure Vanilla has never heard him panicked like this before, and that works in his favour, because it makes it all the more impactful now.

Predictably, Pure Vanilla’s protective instinct kicks in and he throws his arm out in front of Shadow Milk, craning his head up with his mouth set in a grave line, like he’s trying to track the Wafflebots. Shadow Milk wonders if, for once, his bandages feel like a hindrance rather than a help.

The amusement he might feel at that thought is swept away as Pure Vanilla finally replies, a nervousness tinting his words that is unbefitting of a so-called hero. “I-I don't know, I’m sorry. Oh, if only Black Raisin were here, she would surely know-!”

Irritation flares through Shadow Milk, because that is the wrong line. It makes Pure Vanilla sound pathetic, and while he generally has no problems with Pure Vanilla appearing pathetic, this is one of the only instances where he needs his stupid heroics. The Soul Jam probably won’t reveal itself without them.

“Stop that!” Shadow Milk snaps, slightly too harsh for being Plain Yogurt. He tries to play it off as a spike of nerves, barely managing to round the edges of his tone as he continues. “Not only are you just as capable as Black Raisin, you are more capable than her with that power of yours. Just focus on what you can do.”

“I don’t know if that's quite right, but… it is true that there is no time for weakness now.” Pure Vanilla exhales, then takes another deep breath as the tension in his frame sluggishly eases into something more steady, tightening his grip on his staff. He shifts his feet, falling into that noble stance like it is the most natural thing in the world, squaring his shoulders. “No matter what, I will stand my ground!”

There you are, Shadow Milk thinks, pleased with the echo of the past as it begins to creep up on Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla’s spark of resolve is encouraged by the voice of the resting patients within the tent, who seem to be huddling around the tent flap as they cheer, “We- we believe in you, Healer!”

“Yeah, you can do it!”

Shadow Milk lays a light hand on Pure Vanilla’s shoulder, spurring him on with a whispered, “I trust you. Whatever you plan to do, just go for it.”

Pure Vanilla seems to stand even taller at that, and Shadow Milk’s smile stretches wider as he feels the air ripple weakly with an enticingly familiar energy, his chest practically aching as it–

“Don’t forget about us either!” Comes a determined young voice, as their gaggle of guests run over, appearing from behind some of the other tents. The boy with the candy cane acts as their naive leader, charging forward as he waves. “You don’t have to do everything yourself. We can fight!”

“Ah- and we’ll do our very best too.” The shy girl pipes up as the group stumbles to a stop by the healer’s tent, clustering around Pure Vanilla like a flock of sheep pretending to be wolves.

“Children?” Pure Vanilla murmurs, clearly surprised by their return, as he slips from that noble posturing, his shoulders dipping slightly, not relaxing but loosened with a lifting of a load. That pulsing energy stalls and stagnates in midair. Shadow Milk swallows a scowl, his eye twitching, briefly worried that their guests’ support will make Pure Vanilla more complacent.

But, of course, Shadow Milk should have known better. Pure Vanilla has always fought best with someone else on the line, just as he has always fought best at someone else’s side. His momentary surprise is displaced by a smile that cuts through the warning wails of the circling Wafflebots.

“Thank you, all of you, for your support.” The stagnant energy begins to move, faster and faster, swirling around him in a steady current as Pure Vanilla turns his head to the sound of the Wafflebots, lifting his chin to meet them directly. His expression settles into a serious determination as he resumes his grand, unshakeable posture, planting his feet. “I won’t let it be in vain. I will protect everyone!”

And with that final, firm declaration, he lifts his staff skyward as the current of power overflows.

The Wafflebots freeze in place, shimmering with a diluted golden sheen like they are encased in honey. Their guests and the patients alike begin chattering and cheering in awe, but it blurs into insignificance in Shadow Milk’s ears. He’s too focused on the flow of magical energy in the air, thick with true power, tugging at his core in ancient familiarity.

Since he is tracking it so closely, he feels it collect in front of Pure Vanilla a few split seconds before it manifests physically, crystallising into a rough, raw blue gemstone. His eyes fixate on its meek glow, pulsating in time with Pure Vanilla’s steady breathing.

And, coincidentally, in time with Shadow Milk’s breathing too.

It’s not fully manifested yet. It’s not the polished, perfect form of the Soul Jam, it hasn’t properly reconnected with Pure Vanilla, but it has a secure enough connection to draw some of itself out of its shattered hiding. And it certainly is the lost half of Shadow Milk’s Soul Jam, there is no doubt about that. He can feel it like his own pulse.

In a trance, Shadow Milk leans around Pure Vanilla, inadvertently pressing into his side as he reaches out towards that frozen drop of his own power. He shudders as his fingers draw close to it, feeling the energy of the Soul Jam curl around his outstretched fingers in coy greeting.

“Wait.” Pure Vanilla is, naturally, the second one to notice this new presence, turning away from the idle conversation he was having with their guests to turn towards the light. Whether it was the tug of the Soul Jam or Shadow Milk’s movement or a combination of the two that clued him in doesn’t matter. “There’s something… what is that?”

“A gemstone,” Shadow Milk describes in a tone toeing the edge of reverence, not skipping a beat, the explanation already ready on his tongue, “that glows like a star.”

Shadow Milk wants to take it, he wants to take it so bad, it is a yearning that eats through his insides like a parasite, but he forces himself to hold back. As it currently is, the Soul Jam is still incomplete and halfhearted, so there really isn’t any benefit to reclaiming it now. Besides, the scene isn’t right. It would be so anticlimactic to take it away now, in the middle of this dingy village, and he thinks he and Pure Vanilla both deserve a little more fanfare than that.

Instead, he reaches for Pure Vanilla’s free hand, guiding it up so it is enveloped by the cool aura spilling off the Soul Jam. “It thrums with power like a star too.” Shadow Milk adds, closer to a whisper. “Do you feel it?”

Pure Vanilla seems to be mystified, his mouth slightly agape, but he recovers quickly enough, his lips moving to reply.

“Did you say gemstone?!” The thief shouts eagerly, tearing through the fragile haze between the two of them, as she lunges towards the gem in question. “Hey, lemme see that!”

Clearly, the Soul Jam doesn’t agree. It slips out from the range of their hands, zipping silently through the air to collide with the crux of Pure Vanilla’s staff, melting seamlessly into the bandages for safekeeping. The thief groans in disappointment, and Shadow Milk sends her a covert glare, deadly as a cloaked dagger. He doesn’t appreciate her unwanted intervention, and he appreciates her sloppy attempt to swipe the Soul Jam even less.

And yet, alongside his irritation, there’s a flicker of vindication. The Soul Jam had only retreated to Pure Vanilla’s staff when the thief tried to approach, after all. It had no negative reaction to Shadow Milk’s close proximity. Of course it didn’t – it is his, first and foremost.

Pure Vanilla pulls his hand back, clearly focused on his staff as the lingering glow fades into the dim, boring light of day. “You…” He murmurs gently to his staff, to the fragmented Soul Jam, almost in awe. “You’re the thing that has been resonating with my staff recently.”

“What was that?” That amateur wizard asks, trying and failing to hide his own childish amazement. “I know plenty about magic, obviously, but I’ve never seen something like that happen before!"

“I’m not sure. But..." Pure Vanilla perks up as he whips around to face Shadow Milk. He reaches out for him and Shadow Milk obliges, setting his arm in Pure Vanilla’s grip so he can squeeze his elbow. “...This must be the good thing you thought was going to happen, isn’t it? These new friends, this strange power and this adventure towards a great kingdom? This is by far the most exciting thing that has happened in weeks!”

The smile Pure Vanilla gives him is bright, practically glowing like the Soul Jam had, just a few moments ago. That yearning yawns hungrily within him, demanding attention. Shadow Milk wants to take it, him, everything so badly it burns.

He wants to swallow him whole.

But he needs to be patient. He’s been waiting for this long, he can wait just a little longer. It would be no fun otherwise.

So he smiles back with a crescent of teeth that Pure Vanilla cannot see and says, “Yeah, I think it must be. In that case, wherever we go from here must lead to amazing things, right?”

It is a hope, a promise, a fact, a threat. The one thing it is not, ironically, is a lie.

Wherever this little expedition to the Vanilla Kingdom leads, the destination will be something amazing, as defined by Shadow Milk. He will make sure of it.

It’s only fair. After all this time, they both deserve a perfect finale to this little farce. Right?

Pure Vanilla hums in agreement, letting go of him as he turns his attention to whatever silly little rallying speech the outspoken children are giving, and Shadow Milk’s unseen smile twists smugly.

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#updates are probably gonna be slower bc this one was kicking my ASS #half of the work on this involved intensive cross-reference of the canon transcripts. Devastating.#anyway yayyy gingergang <3 #shadowvanilla #vanilla milkshake #pure vanilla cookie #healer cookie #shadow milk cookie #blind man's bluff au #the biscuit library

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