Two months it had been since the fight at The Spire. Two months since Pure Vanilla had his awakening. Since he'd broken out of the corrupted Truth less Recluse mentality that Shadow Milk cookie had manipulated him into, toyed with his memories and broken his mind to create. Now, that was nothing more than a memory. Now, the sight of Shadow Milk kneeling on the ground of the crumbling Spire, heaving with each breath and falling apart at the seams, was nothing but a memory. A memory that plagued the Ancient king's mind, repeated every so often like a song from a faulty record. One that could not be amended, a lost symphony that without one key instrument would never sound correct. Constantly, he'd wonder if he could've done something differently. If he had extended his friendship offer sooner rather than while he was breaking down. Or maybe if he'd tried harder. Would things have turned out differently? Would he still be there, trapped in his own corruption?

Memory or not, he was well aware of the ache his heart would burn with whenever the image of his betrayed, untrusting and feral-looking eyes flashed through his mind.

His beastly counterpart was not a thought that he liked. But- not out of disdain for the ellusive, manipulative, conniving blue cookie. It was that he didn't understand why it came into his head so often. The four friends he could relate to on the topic of beasts rarely brought theirs up for anything other than combat or strategic related defense. The only one who he often saw look anything less than furious and ravenous at the mention of was Hollyberry, but she never spoke up or added anything new.

So why did he seem to be the outliner here? Why did he, who, they all unanimously agreed had gone through the worst at the hands of their beast (he didn't think he had, he thought he had it easy compared to them,) think about his with anything less than anger, hatred or at the least fear?

That was what he didn't understand, and what upset him to question. He never had an answer, and, much like his counterpart, his desire for knowledge and information didn't truly falter for anything, including something as trivial as this.

It was late at night currently. And, as was becoming routine, he was picturing that look on the beast's face. Alongside the joyus expressions he'd seen, and the neutral ones. The aggressive ones, the monotone and deadpan ones, all of them. He sighed as his heart gave another telltale tug, running his hands through his long blonde hair.

No other cookie was awake at this time. Well, no other cookie in the castle was anyway. The sound of the rain on his window was nicely grounding, as the elements had always been for him.

That calm sense didn't last for long, however. A knock rang out from the castle door. Surprisingly for his age, he had quite the attuned sense of hearing, and, despite the faraway source of the knock, he still heard it.

Usually he'd ignore it, after all, what good could come from a random knock in the middle of the night? This felt different though. Something told him that.

Not giving it much thought, he got up and left his room, deciding he'd check who it was. He picked up his staff along the way, enabling him to see better.

He opened it relatively fast, and at first saw nothing. He looked around, cocking an eyebrow of confusion. That was, until he looked down and spotted a small cream sheep. To the untrained eye, this was an ordinary sheep. He knew better than that. This was no ordinary sheep, this was the source of his thoughts for the past two months, this was his counterpart, this was Shadow Milk and his innate shapeshifting ability.

Something in his eyes must've gave away that he knew. That or he was too exhausted to keep form. He shifted back into the familiar cookie. His long, unwruly, eyeball-inhabiting hair was sopping wet and his eyes held a deep tiredness. He was trembling subtly, and before Pure Vanilla knew it, his 'mortal enemy' had stumbled forward and crashed into his arms in a heap.

What

His eyes softened in concern.