WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING.

“The fuck?”

The southern twang was so heavy with that one.

“I ain’t babblin’ nonsense, you dunce. I’m serious. What, you don’t wanna? I think you’d look cute in a weddin’ dress.”

Eve attempted to get up — only to slump back down like a cut marionette.

“Ghh…can’t move. Guess I’m sleepin’ in the tub — your skinny self ain’t gon’ be able to lift my fat ass.”

And Eve did just that — clambered into the tub, then laid down face first on the sugary porcelain.

“Mmmmmgnight.”

Shadow Milk wanted cuddles, yes, but not in the bathtub. Crumbs, not the bathtub. Did Eve not know that sleeping in bathtubs were hell on the bones? Sylph's bones, at least. Fragile and toothpick-esque as they are. Much less the joints. Ohhh, what to do, what to do... She sits up and watches Eve with a frown, her expression tight.

Eve's right; she can't lift her.

Butbutbut...

With a snap of her fingers, a portal opens up underneath Eve. Its twin appears just inches above Eve's bed, gently depositing the sheep back on top. Is it a wasteful use of magic that drains Sylphrena further? Yes, but at least she can get back to the bed now.

Which she does.

Slowly. Painfully. Wobbling over like a baby deer.

“No.

Well.

Yes, but also no.”

She continues to press little kisses to Sylphrena’s face, her hand exploring the slight changes to her partner’s physique all the while. Digits knead into the plusher areas, careful not to put too much pressure around her ribs.

“I was by the Kala Namak Lake — I accidentally fell in. A lot of things are uneven and unearthed around the Salt Flatlands.”

A half truth — that won’t hurt anyone, would it?

“I can…do my best to stop by more often. What would you like to do? More specifically currently, now that you have me here. What is on your mind?”

She tilts her head, starlit curls draping over her shoulders. Just because she hasn't been busy as of recent doesn't mean she can't tell when somebody is lying. Or, at least, when somebody is obfuscating something. There's more to Eve's recent misadventure than she's letting on, and Shadow Milk intends to discover what.

"Well, I certainly hope so!" She leans in, nuzzling Eve nose-to-proverbial nose and squeezing her eyes shut. "I'd like to think I'm faaaaar more interesting than some booooooooring, salty flatlands!"

“Look at me — look at me, Sylphrena, look at me.”

Eve whispered, humming in Sylphrena’s ear this time and applying more pressure to her touches. The sheep turned the cookie’s head to ensure they were looking at one another, giving her a loving look before pressing their lips together.

“None of that, okay? You are not feelin’ good. And that is okay. Lean into me, fight it…come back to me…”

Her eyes flutter closed, swaying from side to side,

“Tell me your name.”

Noooooo! You can't throw the sheep around! They're babies~!

Indeed they ARE. They are big, stupid babies. They weigh nothing. Besides, she can just make more anyway if it bothers her so much.

He makes a cogent point, Sugar.

Nooooo....

Shadow Milk whines. They're not stopping. They won't listen. Such is the downside of forcing four willful beasts into one body.

"I'm--" It's there on the tip of her tongue. "I'm..." Burning Spice Cookie. The Fount of Knowledge. Mystic Flour Cookie. Blueberry Yogurt Cookie, the First Headmaster. Eternal Sugar Cookie. The Master of Deceit. The Ultimate Cookie. A god. The beginning and the end. The alpha and omega.

"Shadow Milk Cookie...?" But are you really? Have you ever been?

She sniffed, finally able to burst into the tears she herself had been holding back in a fit of defensive rage. Arms wrapped around the other, face burrowing deep into the crook of her neck,

“I-I love you too…”

A pathetic mewl, wiping at her eyes before forcing a laugh,

“S-So — So does that mean you do want to marry?”

"Are you kidding me, Evie?" She presses her hands on each side of Eve's face and squishes.

that  doesn't  stop  him  from  feeling  sick  to  his  stomach.  ooh,  if  only  it  did.  but  he  supposes  there  is  one  silver  lining  to  this  whole  unwelcome  performance.  a  reminder  —  in  a  sense.  he  was  helpless  last  time.  but  fate,  in  all  of  its  sick  and  tasteless  humor,  has  granted  him  a  second  attempt.

❝  ...  nah.  ❞  maestro  says  aloud,  trying  his  best  to  sound  unbothered.  ❝  i've  had  character  development.  ❞   no.  not  really  —  certainly  not  in  THAT  department.  (  his  hand  is  going  numb  from  squeezing  it.  )  but  it  doesn't  need  to  know  that.  ❝  how-ev-er,  i  cannot  help  but  notice  you  have  deliberately  avoided  addressing  any  of  my  talking  points.  almost  like  you  know  that  i'm  right  or  something!  whatwhosaidthat.  ❞  must  have  been  his  close,  personal  friend  the  wind.  ❝  c'mon,  little  director.  you're  rooted  in  the  noggin  of  earthbread's  greatest  mastermind.  surely  SOME  of  those  smarts  must've  rubbed  off  on  ya!  so,  enlighten  me!  what.  is.  the  plan?  ❞  he  tilts  his  head  —  further,  further,  further  still  with  each  subsequent  word.  the  beast  doesn't  blink;  merely  fixes  it  with  a  wide,  expectant  smile  that  would  seem  encouraging  in  a  different  context.

❝  unleeess,  you  don't  actually  have  one?  unless  you're  scared  and  lonely  and  throwing  a  big  old  tantrum  because  of  it.  ❞  he  folds  his  arms  behind  his  back.  ❝  ... if  ya  already  know  my  tricks,  what  do  you  have  to  risk  by  chatting?  ❞

"I don't think you're correct in the slightest." The Ultimate Cookie tilts its own head, mirroring Maestro's movement. "I just don't think anything you said is worth justifying with a response." It hums a little tune, one that will be very familiar to Maestro immediately. It floats up to meet Maestro on equal footing, as if daring him to try something.

"My plan," it says evenly, "Is to become whole. To sap this body of Life Powder and resistance, until it becomes fully mine. And then, I can regain my missing ingredient." Bravery. "I could bore you with the details, but... a motive rant is just so cliché, no? Truly a hallmark of a lazily written villain. Besides, I'm sure my reasoning is understandable enough for your claustrophobic little brain to comprehend."

It wanted to live. To be. To truly become a cookie. So what if he hit the nail on the head? So what if it is scared and lonely?

"She was using me, you know. For the same thing Khaos was planning. The same thing Hacked PC succeeded at, then fumbled." It blinks. That lone blue eye continues struggling, struggling. "Multiversal destruction. Splitting the timeline. The bugs." The Ultimate Cookie folds its hands together.

"Do you really think she was any better, just because she did favors for you? Because she brought you your Beasts back? Because you used her?"

#𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒  ━━  come  with  me,  take  the  journey.  independent  and  selective  multimuse  blog  for  various  fandoms.  (  genshin  impact.  cookie  run:  kingdom.  stardew  valley  &&.  more.  )  minors dni. please  see  the  rules  and  muse  list  before  interacting.  written  by  spencer.  ft.  𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄  𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀  𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐄  from  𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐄  𝐑𝐔𝐍:  𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐌. promo credit @ pinchofdeceit

❝  ...  ❞  the  beast  grits  his  teeth,  trying  to  think.  c'mon,  c'mon.  stay  calm.  don't  dwell  on  the  horrifying  bits.  there  has  to  be  something  he  can  do  here.  he  refuses  to  just  let  the  ACTUAL  parasite  do  whatever  it  pleases  —  giving  up  might  as  well  not  be  a  part  of  maestro's  vernacular  for  all  that  he's  prone  to  doing  it.  (  ooh,  he  wishes  he  could  just  pluck  that  stupid  dough  out  of  sylphrena's  noggin  like  a  carrot!  )  it's  only  by  pure  chance  that  the  beast  happens  to  notice  one  of  its  many,  many,  many  eyes  isn't  like  all  the  others.  the  blue  one.  the  familiar  one.  maestro  doesn't  want  to  look  at  it  —  and  if  he  actually  felt  like  being  honest  for  a  change,  he  might  even  say  he  was  avoiding  it  altogether.  but  despite  his  best  efforts,  he  still  finds  himself  drawn  to  it  —  and  the  strange-yet-deliberate  way  that  it  blinks  by  proxy.

three  short.  three  long.  three  short.  the  beast  recognizes  it  for  what  it  is  immediately.  a  sign.  a  signal  —  s-o-s,  huh?  that  can't  possibly  be  a  coincidence.

...  which  means  she's  still  in  there.  conscious  and  fighting  and  oh,  as  much  as  maestro  would  love  to  prioritize  his  own  dough,  he  owes  sylphrena  a  few  too  many  favors  to  leave  her  hanging  when  there's  something  he  can  do.  there  IS  something  he  can  do,  here  —  right?

❝  ...  are  you  sure  about  that?  ❞   maestro  grins.  maybe.  maybe  there  is.  ❝  because  it  sounds  to  me  like  you've  made  a  pre-tty  rookie  mistake.  shall  we  review  the  plan?  ❞  no  need  to  answer!  he  thinks  that  they  shall.  ❝  you  hijack  the  body,  force  fanilana  to  make  you  a  new  one  —  my,  my,  oh  my  i  do  so  wonder  what  will  happen  if  you  drain  sylphrena-and-co  dry!  hint,  hint.  it  starts  with  LIGHT  and  ends  with  BEAMS.  f-y-i,  when  you  have  a  hostage  situation,  you  do  not.  CRUMBLE.  the  hostages.  ❞  he  shakes  his  head,  clicking  his  tongue  in  exaggerated  disappointment.   ❝  you  know,  i  can  see  why  you  don't  get  the  wheel  often.  you're  sloppy!  your  work  is  amateurish!  your  impatience  will  cost  you  everything!  checks  out,  i  suppose  —  you're,  what?  four  months  old?  HAH.  ❞

maestro  makes  it  a  point  to  levitate  a  comfortable  distance  above  the  ultimate  cookie's  head.  everything  personal;  it  isn't  sylph,  so  it  doesn't  deserve  to  be  on  eye  level  with  him.  ❝  i  came  back,  ❞  maestro  repeats,   ❝  because  i  like  sylphrena  —  aaas  much  as  she  grinds  on  my  very  last  nerve.  can  YOU  say  the  same  about  YOOOUR  ginger-brat?  ❞   he  cradles  his  face  between  his  hands,  tilting  his  head.  ❝  hmm.  last  i  heard,  he  was  run-run-running  to  get  away  from  a-you.  OH,  i  wonder,  was  it  something  you  saaaid?  ❞

his  expression  sours.  even  the  eyes  dotting  his  tentacles  narrow  with  something  that  feels  insultingly  close  to  pity.  ❝  you're  a  self-fulfilling  prophecy.  ❞  he tells  it.  ❝  cold  and  alone...  burning  every  last  bridge  for  warmth  because  you're  too  much  of  a  coward  to  cross  them.  ❞

come  on.  take  the  bait.

That's enough of that.

The blue eye pauses, straining against sudden pressure to its lids. It struggles, holds firm, doing everything it can to stay open. The Ultimate Cookie, for its part, tilts its head. Sylphrena's face goes emotionless as Maestro hits it with their best shot, save for the slightest twitch of dilated pupils.

"I know what you're doing, Maestro," it says, "You're doing the same thing you do every time you come across one of my vessels. Poke at it. At me. At my weaknesses. Angry cookies make mistakes, don't they? Ones you can exploit to your heart's content. If only you were as clever as you thought you were."

"Do you really think I'm so easy to enrage? I'm in the brain of the only cookie who's managed to properly ragebait you back. The one cookie who's managed to no-sell similar attempts. I know your tricks... and I know what upsets you. Stop me if this sounds familiar."

The Ultimate Cookie inhales deeply...

the  beast's  expression  crumbles  in  such  a  way  that  makes  it  clear  he's  finally  put  the  pieces  together.  with  what  happened  to  khaos  still  so  fresh  in  his  mind,  he  would  be  an  idiot  not  to.  however,  it's  that  eye  that  actually  manages  to  get  under  his  dough.  different  from  all  the  others,  but  oh  so  familiar  to  him.  maestro  visibly  recoils  when  it  opens  —  a  rare  glimpse  of  something  raw  and  wounded  and  genuinely  terrified  flickering  across  his  countenance.  it's  like  staring  his  worst  nightmare  in  the  face.  it's  like  watching  one  of  the  few  cookies  other  than  himself  he  feels  something  for  live  out  his  worst  nightmare  in  real  time.  ❝  sylph...?  ❞  his  voice  cracks.  (  how  does  he  expect  her  to  answer  him  when  she  doesn't  have  a  mouth?  )

❝  i...  ❞  this  is  his  fault?  ❝  that's  not...  ❞   this  is  his  fault.  he  can  feel  himself  teetering  on  the  brink  all  over  again  —  he  abandoned  her.  he  made  her  weak  enough  for  that  THING  to  take  over.  he  didn't  know.  he  didn't  know.  he  thought  the  ultimate  cookie  was  under  control.  docile.  weak.  malleable.  how  long  has  it  been  fighting  to  flip  the  script?  how  long  was  it  waiting  for  someone  to  come  along  and  give  sylphrena  that  last  little  push  it  needed  —  only  for  maestro  to  be  the  lucky  cookie  to  hand  it  the  reins?

he  was  so  caught  up  in  his  own  drama  that  he  never  even  noticed  she  was  struggling.

❝  ...  ❞  his  hands  curl  into  fists.  tight  —  tight  enough  that  his  claws  cut  into  his  palms.  c'mon.  get  it  together.  don't  insult  her  with  your  self-flagellating  nonsense.  ❝  wrong.  ❞  maestro  grinds  the  word  between  his  teeth.  he  exhales  a  laugh,  pained  and  humorless.  ❝  oh,  i  see  ex-act-ly  what  you're  trying  to  do,  here.  shifting  the  blame,  crafting  a  narrative,  using  your  weird  parasitic  abandonment  issues  to  draw  parallels.  very  cute,  very  clever.  except,  ya  forgot  ooone  important  detail  that  causes  your  entire  argument  to  crrrumble.  ❞  he  places  a  hand  on  his  chest  and  forces  a  grin,  vicious  and  full  of  too-sharp  teeth.

❝  i  actually  came  back.  for  HER.  so  what  does  that  say  about  YOU?  ❞

The Ultimate Cookie, meanwhile, watches. Those pupils of its grow wider, rounder, bathing all Sylphrena's eyes bar one in shades of black and white. It smiles, a predator watching its prey tear itself apart in trying to escape a futile ending at its jaws. It never doubted that Maestro would be able to guess its game. He was her, she was him, et cetera... though, if he thinks that the Ultimate Cookie is just poking at parallels from nothing. Well.

They didn't emerge from a vacuum, did they?

"Oh, I know what it means." That smile doesn't falter, even as Maestro pulls out what he thinks is his trump card. Foolish. "It means... that I've won. That she's trapped, thinking she's doomed to be cast aside, cast aside..."

It giggles. Are those words familiar? They're the ones that birthed Khaos.

"And that you've come too late. That you're stuck with me, until her precious Lani--" THE EYE STRUGGLES MORE. BLINKS HARDER, IN THAT SAME PATTERN. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. MINE. "Finds me a body."

"And even then... who's to say there'll be any of her left? Any of them?"

It's taking too long. It can't wait. It'll die without Life Powder. Without bravery.

It wants to live.

Any other time, those would work. But not when Eve is beyond infuriated at Sylphrena.

“Dunno. Don’t cha’ love me? Or was that all just some STUPID LIE too since that’s all you know how to do ‘round this place?”

She takes a step back, distrusting.

“For all I know, you’re just givin’ me crocodile tears to keep me under your SUBMISSION.”

She shakes violently, threatening to burst into furious tears.

"So don't you ever, eveeeer claim I would hurt myself thiiiiiiiis bad for the sake of a stupid little lie!"

something  is  definitely  wrong  here.

oh,  the  look  is  right.  the  voice  is  spot  on.  but  everything  else  feels  wrong,  wrong,  wrong.  why  is  she  taking  this  so  calmly?  why  isn't  she  reacting  to...  anything?  even  if  she's  mad  at  him  —  no,  even  assuming  she  WAS  mad  at  him  to  begin  with,  tranquil  fury  is  NOT  their  thing.  this  doesn't  feel  like  sylphrena  so  much  as  it  does  a  very  immaculately  crafted  costume  in  her  likeness,  worn  by  some  clown  (  and  not  the  fun  kind  )  who  only  has  the  barest  understanding  of  her  personality.  ❝  ...  ❞  maestro  pauses  for  a  fraction  of  a  second,  gaze  sweeping  over  her  face.  that  eerie  smile,  those  eyes  —  wait,  wait,  wait,  what's  going  on  with  her  eyes?  he  can  practically  FEEL  the  questions  resting  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue,  but  the  beast  forces  himself  to  swallow  them  back.  not  yet.  not  yet.  he  can't  risk  making  her  angry  when  she  still  holds  his  beasts.

fortunately,  maestro  is  nothing  if  not  an  exemplary  actor.  in  contrast  to  THIS  talentless  hack.   ❝  aww,  how  did  you  know?  ❞  he  plasters  on  his  best  smile.  ❝  i  bet  they  missed  me  bunches.  no  offense,  a-course  —  you're  GREAT.  s'why  i  left  'em  with  ya.  buuut  it's  about  time  i  take  them  off  your  hands.  ❞  at  least  she  gives  them  back  without  any  hassle.  maestro's  fingers  immediately  curl  around  the  bracelet  almost  a  little  too  eagerly.  he  spares  the  gems  a  quick  glance,  just  to  be  sure,  and  exhales  a  sigh  of  relief  when  his  costars  are  all  present  and  accounted  for.  first  order  of  business,  the  beast  thinks  to  himself.  before this inevitably goes downhill... i'm  getting  you  all  out  of  here.

he  encloses  the  bracelet  in  a  loose  fist.  when  he  opens  his  hand,  it's  gone.  nothing  up  his  sleeve,  either!

with  that  taken  care  of,  maestro  turns  his  attention  back  to  his  doppelganger.  he  drops  the  smile.  ❝  are  you  sure  about  that?  ❞   the  beast  asks,  choosing  his  words  very  carefully.   ❝  absolutely,  positively,  without  a  shadow  of  a  doubt  sure?  because  i  know  you...  ❞   a  deliberate  pause.  ❝  ...  or  should  i  say,  i  know  sylphrena?  and  i  have  to  say,  your  characterization  is  so  sloppy,  i'm  insulted  on  her  behalf.  ❞

She exhales. Her main eyes close, joining the others.

"Do you know what it's like, finding somebody so like you?" Its voice is quiet. "With your hopes. Ambitions. Fears. Somebody who makes you feel complete?"

"Then one day, they... leave. They abandon you to the dark, marching off to their doom. Because they're scared of being too close. Of enmeshing with you. Because they think you better off without them. Not that you actually are, but who ever cared what you thought to begin with...? You don't get a say. You have to stay behind and know you'll never, ever see them again."

WHY, GINGERBRAVE. WHY. WE COULD HAVE BEEN COMPLETE. WHY DO YOU ALL HATE ME. WHY CAN'T I BE REAL LIKE YOU ARE.

Every single eye opens, revealing heavily dilated pupils... all save for the one shaking eye, forced shut. Slowly, it peels open, as if being forced to by fingers pulling back eyelids. It reveals a brilliant blue with slit white pupils that quiver in terror. Fear. Something wet and salty leaks from it.

"THAT'S WHAT WAS DONE TO ME, MAESTRO. AND WHAT YOU DID TO HER."

"SO SHE GAVE IN."

“…

Shadow Milk Cookie. If you don’t knock it the hell off right now, I am breakin’ up with your ass and leavin’ this Spire pronto.”

It’s the equivalence of a mother giving her child the look in a grocery store while on the phone.

“Do NOT fuck with me now. I got a one way ticket to The Aisle of Night Song and I can stay there for the REST OF MY DAYS.”

Then, those biiiiiig blue eyes slowly open, affixed onto Eve. Look how wet they are. So shiny. So strooooooong. Her arms and hair slooooowly release hold of Eve, and she peels off her. Down to the ground she flops, staring up at the deceitful sheep like the saddest, wettest cream pomeranian you could ever imagine.

A whine.