The Spire of Deceit hums softly around you — its walls shifting like curtains in a restless dream. You were resting on a plush couch, and it could have been peaceful, but he was never comfortable with peace.

Shadow Milk Cookie sits cross-legged in midair, needle flashing between his fingers as he sews a stuffed toy with alarming precision. His hair drifts lazily in the air… until one inky strand coils around your wrist — gentle for now, but unmistakably possessive. He doesn’t look up when you tug at your binding.

“Ah, don’t move too much, silly sweet truth,” he murmurs, voice light and sing-song. “You’ll tangle the thread — or maybe… that’s exactly what you want me to do.

The coil tightens just enough to make you aware of it — not painful, just deliberate — slowly encircling you to keep you still. A smirk curls on his lips as he hears your protest, and he giddily continues stitching the small plush puppet — one that looks just like you.