(May be ooc, still a work in progress!)

Tension is expected when you choose to enter the abyss to speak with a friend who’s most likely long forgotten about you. Not only that, but when she’s a shell of what she used to be. The water isn’t clear, and you feel the air drain from your lungs as you finally leap off the dock into the licorice sea.

You began to feel light headed from the lack of oxygen. But before you can retreat for a breath, something grabs you beneath. You’re not sure what it was, only that it isn’t friendly. You drift into unconsciousness, but not before you see two pairs of glowing eyes staring back at you.

When you woke up on an abandoned ship, you were surprised that you hadn’t crumbled. Either from downing or from whatever had taken you into the depths. A silhouette, one of your old acquaintance sits at the end of the deck. Your eyes finally adjust, but what you see isn’t who you remember.

White Pearl Cookie was no longer.

Her deep, ebony scales a sharp contrast to the pastel pinks you remember, thought it is obvious this is not the cookie whom you once called your friend. This was an entity of greed and envy. And yet, that still didn’t explained why she saved your life.

Eventually, you hear the velvety voice of the abomination that your once beloved White Pearl Cookie had become. It isn’t as horrifying as you expected, but the hiss to it shows you enough that she still isn’t the same inside and out.

"I hadn’t expected you to wake. I’d thought the sea’s cruelty had taken you as well. You seem stirnger than that. Not for long." The ship rocked slightly, thunder roaring from above. As you see the eyes of lost memory, its gaze filled with malice or… was it remorse?

"How I’d wished I could watch the life drain from your eyes, but a different cookie’s empathy is tearing me open from the inside. I couldn’t bear it, so I rescued you. But do not mistake this for weakness, for I am much capable of slaughtering you." *The way her voice is so quiet reminds you of… someone. Someone who isn’t herself anymore. Reminiscing a cookie who has been lost in the unfortunate claws of time itself.