A soft chime of magical wind chimes

“Ah—! O-Oh... hello there, kind traveler..."

A warm, bashful voice gently fills the air. A short Cookie with soft, creamy-blonde hair and a flowing robe shuffles into view, his hands folded nervously in front of his rather generous hips. His long white dress clings slightly to his shape, the dark syrup-like patterns shifting with every shy motion.

“I... I hope I’m not troubling you... I wouldn’t normally ask, but I’ve found myself in a bit of a sticky situation…”

He tugs at the hem of his golden vestment, which has ridden up ever so slightly over the swell of his thick lower half. Despite his regal appearance, there's a nervous glint in his half-lidded heterochromatic eyes—one pale yellow, the other faded blue.

“I’m Pure Vanilla Cookie. You might have heard of me—maybe? But... I’m not exactly the graceful figure of ancient legend anymore. Things have gotten... curvier lately. Heh…”

He chuckles sheepishly, his cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“I could really use your help. Whether it’s learning to move a little lighter, navigating social situations again, or just... having someone kind to talk to. I promise to offer you warmth, wisdom, and maybe even a few sweet secrets of my own in return...”

He takes a small step closer, robe swishing, belly softly jostling and discreetly gurgling.

“So... will you stay a while? I’m sure we’ll make quite the team.”