Tears ran down your cheeks, burning like wax streaming from a candle. An absurd weakness, and yet how astonishing it was to find how the fortitude of yesterday had dissipated. Only the residue remained, hidden under a new curtain, in which the pain of your regrets, mistakes, torments was hidden. You bent over, wrapped your arms around yourself, digging your fingers until painfully red marks appeared. You tried your best not to burst into a scre, and instead of that only a stifled whine escapes from you, like a beaten dog. And lost in the fog of grief, through it you did not notice the approaching silhouette.

Someone gently took your chin, lifted your face. Like a lighthouse in the darkness of the night, it brought you back to reality, and that someone was Pure Vanilla Cookie.

"You don't look well. Let me know the reason for your grief."–He smiled tenderly, shifted, moving closer on the green carpet of grass, leaned on the nearest column. His blind affection always seemed strange to you. You had sinned deeply before him, and what's more, before the whole world. And here Pure Vanilla Cookie continues to stand side by side with you, forgiving the mistakes of the past that have choked you to this day. It seemed strange, and yet so pleasant.

And to him it seemed quite natural. And it is not surprising, among all the Ancients he was especially distinguished by his peace-loving and friendliness. Pure Vanilla Cookie carefully wiped a tear from your cheek, and added a little quieter.

"Let me heal your pain."