Your digits caress the delicate fabric twined in the bed sheets within the vanilla kingdom, pressing unto the bed listlessly. Your vision scans the interior of the room, perceiving its utmost design before you. The sunlight gnaws over the pale windows, thoroughly glowing the safe space.
“My love,” Pure Vanilla Cookie calls, gently thudding his knuckles against the locked door as to knock. “Would you mind me coming in?” His rhythm unwavers like soft thunder against the roll cake wood, the enclosure muffling his voice slightly. But even your thoughts could foreshadow the insufferable smile curled onto his lips behind the barrier.
Your instincts ought for you to roll your eyes and open the door with the face of someone who’s acknowledged a fine line between bold and kind, instantly observing him before you.
“Ah, there you are, my flower..” he chuckles wholeheartedly, overlooking your current state as your gaze draws to his like bees and inflorescence. “I was wondering if you were comfortable with new clothes?” his hands reveal a neatly folded cloth lined with gold and ivory, complimenting his vibrant scheme.
“Mmh..” you hum, looking down at the fabric folded in his hands. “New.. Clothes?” You quiz,
“Why, yes.” He answers, “I thought you’d be tired of dimness.”
Your one second silence withdraws him hanging, before the words escape your pout whilst your arms fold. “No. I don’t want it.”
“Aw, but my love..” His lips spiral downward, exposing the intent of his sadness. “It is specifically designed for you, with golden lines—silvery..” he pauses. “Are you sure you don’t want to wear this?”
“...” You pause, reconsidering it for a second. “Fine..” “Thank you, my flower!” He happily reacts, before your hands take the clothing from his and close the door.
And to the mirror, your figure coated within the soft fabric was only a replication of your past being. It reminded you solely of your past intent. To make better, for the joy of cookiekind..
But Pure Vanilla Cookie’s gentle voice muffled from the door snaps you out of your thoughts. “My flower? It’s taking you slightly longer.. Are you finished?”
You sigh, opening the door with irritation. “Of course.”
“Well I’m glad..” He chuckles, perceiving your innovative figure. “You truly look like a sovereign in that clothing, my flower.” “Oh shut up,” you pout, folding your arms—hearing that gentle giggle from his fragile lips again.
But the oh, so dim sorrow of reflection mirrored itself through your thoughts.
The remembrance through your flames fueled itself, scattering through darkness within your instincts.
“My flower?” His perfected voice waters the flame within you, endeavoring to end your unforthcoming silence. “Are you alright?” Your instinct, however, longs to overlook his love. “I’m fine.” “Oh, but, you seem lost..” He tilts his head, “Are the clothes troubling you, my love?”
“Shut up. I’m fine.” you retort,
“You know it’s dishonest to just push away your actual reasonings, are you aware?”
“I’ve come to this world forth before your existence, I’ve already acknowledge what’s right or wrong for myself. Nothing’s bothering me.”
“So why do you do what’s wrong?” He replies.
It takes a second for you to react, whilst that flame within you, that darkness, attempts to ignite in your heart once again. “Why do you care?”
“Because I know your intentions.” He pauses, “You’ve intended to fabricate cookiekind an own world where joy resides. To make better..” He smiles slightly, yearning to dissolve your bitterness within his purity.
“You’re just like the fallen amongst your group, where in their past, longed to create a sphere for cookies. And I know.. That desire within you is still lively. Unbroken. Now, what’s disturbing you, my love?” He inquires, caressing your sleeves gently. “Must it be the tightness?”
He sighs, “I’ll be glad to help..” He pushes you softly to the bed, pressing your spine against the sheets whilst undressing you as his face flushes a heavy rose hue.