#misc. posting

1. Princess Shadow Milk, locked up in a tower since birth, waits for their prince/knight to arrive. However, as she grows up, a little shepherd girl named pure vanilla would visit her spire and bring her company. The two become enamored with one another, but with every year passing smilk's curse of eternal slumber draw closer. Pure Vanilla, who befriended the dragon that guarded the spire, learns the full truth of her curse and leaves to find a way to break it.

When she returns 2 years later, Shadow Milk has turned 18 and has entered a state of slumber to preserve her for the knight. When she arrives, a knight has slain the dragon and climbs up the spire. Pure Vanilla heals the dragon who lifts her to the tower where she stabs the knight in the back with a poisoned blade- one that would temporarily paralyze him.

Shadow Milk, whose hair had grown long and sleeps on the bed, wakes when Pure Vanilla's tears fall on her cheek. Pure Vanilla offers to cut her hair- letting her move pass the spire and live for herself. Shadow Milk agrees, and since the dragon was slain for a few minutes, the curse has been lifted. The two run away from the spire, and find a place faraway from kingdoms and such to live peacefully. really i just want to write yuri.

2. Princess Shadow Milk has been locked in a tower since birth. They learned magic from the dragon, and the isolation left them mentally unwell as the tales told to have about knights saving the princess have dwindled into fever dreams that will never come true. One day, a shepherd is running away from a group of bandits that had been attacking his village.

He comes across a spire protected by a dragon, and the dragon ignores him in favor of attacking the bandits. Scared out of his mind, the shepherd, Pure Vanilla, climbs the Spire and meets the princess Shadow Milk who was writing runes into the floor. Elated for the company, Shadow Milk declares them married, and when a bandit enters the spire he kills him with his magic. Pure Vanilla, disturbed by the situation, decides that he'll take Shadow Milk out of the spire but they will not be wed. Once they arrive to his village, Shadow Milk demands for him to take him back to his kingdom to be wed, and Pure Vanilla asks if he really wants to go back to the people that locked him away in the first place.

Their relationship for a while is tense with Shadow Milk not understanding how Pure Vanilla could not want the riches he was treasured over, how his company could be enough for this shepherd who has nothing. Pure Vanilla remains firm in his choice, and through patience and kindness, shows Shadow Milk that his life could be more than whatever destiny someone decided for him when he was born. Slowly, they find peace, and whenever someone comes a bit too close to them the dragon makes sure to take care of it. they learn to live happily.

yep go right ahead!

The first of these two scenes in a hospital scene where Shadow Milk, who has been sick for some time and is essentially waiting to pass, is joined by Pure Vanilla whose resting by his bedside. They've reached a settlement between them- before this, they were struggling for months on their duo performance with smilk on the violin and pv on the piano.

During that time, smilk always pushed for them to be better- worker longer to make sure their performance will be perfect. however, he knows he won't last for the performance date, and has kept that a secret from pv for as long as they could.

They had a mutual pining thing going on, but neither one felt like speaking up and potentially ruining the fragile peace around them.

However, pure vanilla tries. he tells smilk that when he gets out the hospital, they can play something just for themselves. beautifully imperfect just for their ears alone- implying that he really does want to be with him, even outside of this project they found themselves in.

Shadow Milk knows he's not leaving this bed. And knows that if he doesn't push Pure Vanilla away now, if he lets Pure Vanilla watch him die, that he'll haunt him for the rest of his life. So, he asks Pure Vanilla to go back to their dorm room and get his violin, just so he could play something, and to make sure he brings the case.

Pure Vanilla leaves, and is carefully in handling the instrument as he thinks of things he wants to do with Shadow Milk once he's cleared to leave. Maybe to the hidden gardens he likes to visit, or to the new restaurant that recently opened down the street. He's thinking of a future for them together.

When he arrives back to the hospital room, Shadow Milk has already passed. In a cold room, all alone without anyone there in the end just as he had intended. It breaks something in Pure Vanilla.

Later, having been dragged out the hospital room by nurses and taken home by friends, he opens the violin case and finds a note inside. In Shadow Milk's handwriting, it tells him to dig into his closet for a speaker. When Pure Vanilla turns it on, he hears the beginning instrumentation of Shadow Milk's part in their duet, shuts it off, and cries.

The day of the performance arrives, and in the center of the stage is a piano with the speaker on top of it. The audience waits for musicians to arrive, but only Pure Vanilla enters the stage with a violin delicately held in his hands. He props it carefully against the speaker and turns it out.

Shadow Milk's part plays, and leads in Pure Vanilla's part. Shadow Milk played with precision, occasionally adding his own quirks to the song, but Pure Vanilla matched it with grace. It's an emotional charged performance, with Pure Vanilla struggling to concentrate on playing correctly.

Then, Shadow Milk's part ends, and Pure Vanilla is left to finish the performance himself. It ends with an applause from the audience, and with Pure Vanilla's haunted look as he looks to the side and finds no one there to share in the celebration of their work.

Sitting together on a bench with their thighs and shoulders pressed together, sheltered under a canopy as they waited for the bus, Truthless Recluse felt her eyes grow heavier and heavier the longer they sat there in silence. Not a tense or awkward silence- just peaceful, calm as the gentle sound of rain falling above them. Her hand loosely held her cain with the strap digging into her wrist, and her cheek pressed against Blueberry Milk's shoulder.

They had not planned for the rain. Blueberry Milk had been the one to plan their outing- she always did- and had filled a basket with fruits and drinks for them to enjoy a picnic in the park. She had worn a blue velvet vest over a long-sleeve frilly shirt with her brooch resting over her chest, alongside a matching blue pencil skirt reaching just above her knees with a pair of white stockings and yellow heels. The golden buttons of her vest were polished, and matched the ribbon keeping her long braided hair together. With her white bangs and side pieces framing her round face, drawing attention to her lightly blushed cheeks and lighter patches of skin from her vitiligo, Blueberry Milk must have looked beautiful.

In comparison, Recluse had dressed rather plainly; a long black skirt brushing against her ankles with her dark boots and an equally dark coat that dwarfed her in size, thrown over a slightly dirty white shirt with paint mark along her collar. She had tried scrubbing out the paint earlier, but years of buildup has left the shirt permanently stained and saturated. The necklace she wore was a blue, clover shaped gem that at least distracted from the mess, and Blueberry Milk hadn't said anything about her appearance except calling her 'cute.'

Blueberry Milk had waited for her at the bus stop, basket held in front of her, and had lit up once she spotted her exiting the bus. Patiently she stood there as she approached, and when Recluse hesitantly wrapped an arm around her's, Blueberry Milk chatted her ears off as she guided them to the park.

It was meant to be a lovely day- and for the first few hours, it had been. Sage had found a picnic table with a tree to provide shade and had carefully set out the treats from her basket. Each item she pulled out she named and listed the ingredients of, and set them down close enough for her to reach. Then she sat across from her with a slice of mixed-berry pie and happily dug into her meal.

She didn't eat much. Even though Recluse pushed herself to eat more than the grapes set in front of her, to have another serving of buttery sweet bread that seemed to melt on her tongue, Recluse couldn't stomach it. It was a bit shameful on her part- it was hard for them to meet frequently with time to spare given Blueberry Milk's frequent travels, and she still found time to plan a trip for them.

Wasting someone's time and efforts normally doesn't affect her since she never asks for it in the first place. She already knew their intentions when approaching her- if they ever did considering the secrecy she exhibits in maintaining anonymity. But with Blueberry Milk? She can't help but feel a sense of guilt for acting unappreciative.

Yet, Blueberry Milk doesn't bring attention to it. Instead, all she does is press a handkerchief against her cheek to wipe away a bit of cream, her smile almost fond as she does so. Recluse bats her hand away to clean herself up, her brows scrunched together in annoyance as Blueberry Milk giggles.

A pest, Recluse reminds herself as Blueberry Milk refills their cups of tea with a hum. She is a pest.

It doesn't sound as biting as she had hoped.

When they had both satisfied their hunger, Blueberry Milk began to recount her travels and mishaps she encountered while they were apart. She talked with her hands, Recluse noticed, waving them around as she told her tale. Somehow, even the most mundane of stories- that being a stray dog she came across one midnight stroll- managed to be enthralling because Blueberry Milk's voice and excitement demanded your attention. Every word that fell from her lips served a purpose, and Recluse knew she was in danger when she could no longer feint disinterest.

This woman would be the end of her.

And yet, she listened to her talk for two hours without complaint. She may have listened longer had it not been for the Sun disappearing behind the clouds and the first raindrop falling onto the tip of Blueberry Milk's nose. Her voice faltered, mouth still open as she had been in the midst of explaining the difference between certain translations of a novel, and a sudden look of panic overtook her features.

"They did not say it would rain," she muttered more to herself, and when another raindrop hit the table she scrambled to collect the dishes.

"Ah, well, I suppose we'll have to cut our meeting short!" Blueberry Milk said with a strained laugh as she stuffed plates into the basket, her eyes flicking around the table rapidly.

Recluse stood from her seat and moved to pick up a few plates when Blueberry Milk snatched it out her hands. "Do not worry yourself, Truthless! Allow me to handle packing- it is my mess, after all."

"I don't mind helping," Recluse argued, but Blueberry Milk shook her head.

"You are my guest," she said, "What host would I be if I made you clean up after me?"

The picnic basket is roughly shut and with an exasperated sigh, Blueberry Milk gently wraps her arm around Recluse's. She said, with a voice of thinly-veiled disappointment, "I'll wait with you for the bus."

Her tone left no room for argument. Recluse wanted to refute- to say they could go somewhere else, that their day didn't have to end just yet because who knows when they'll see each other again-

But she was tired. She could feel it- a bone-deep tiredness that has afflicted her for years and ebbs and flows as it pleases. She was always tired, and with gritted teeth, she nodded her head in agreement.

Hastily they went back to the bus stop as the rain began to come down in earnest. Recluse's coat kept most of the rain off but Blueberry Milk wasn't so lucky. Her pretty blue vest and frilly shirt were soaked through, and her bangs were plastered against her forehead. The smile she wore wilted at the edges, and these was the subtlest tremble in her shoulders as they sat down on the bench.

At first they sat apart in an awkward silence, Recluse trying and failing to come up with a way to convince Blueberry Milk that they were fine and one ruined date isn't going to drive her away. Words weren't her strong suit, and providing comfort even less-so as of late. Instead, she moves closer to her companion until their thighs tough, the warmth of her skin sinking into her own, and pressed her cheek against her shoulder.

At first, she thought Blueberry Milk would push her away given the way she suddenly tensed under her touch. After a minute, however, her frame softened, and she shakily exhaled. Before long, she felt Blueberry Milk's lay her head against her's, her sugary perfume coiling around her, and felt her relax.

They sat there for sometime, not saying anything and listening to the rain fall from above. Recluse could feel her eyes struggling to remain open, her body turning to putty as she lay against Blueberry Milk, when her companion finally broke the silence with one random aside.

"I had a twin sister, once."

Oh.

Recluse shifted her head, her lashes fluttering open as she looks at Blueberry Milk. She was looking at to the street, her hands in her lap as she picked at her perfectly manicured nails. Her expression was oddly blank- something Recluse hasn't seen of her once. Only when she processes her statement does she say, "Had?"

"Ah, I made it sound like she was dead, haven't I? She is still alive... I think," Blueberry Milk chuckles, leaning her head back against the glass wall. "I have not thought of her in years, truthfully. But sometimes, I cannot help but be reminded of her on days such as these. She loved the rain and watching miserable people try to escape its clutches. I can almost hear her laugher."

"You sound like you miss her," Recluse says, pressing her knuckles into Blueberry Milk's thigh. It is quickly captured by her hand, their fingers laced tightly together.

"Sometimes. It is strange; from the moment of birth, we had always been together. I still have scarring along my upper right arm and thigh from they had to separate us. Like we were meant to be a singular entity from the very beginning," Blueberry Milk mused, her smile almost sad as she continued. "It felt like we were. Always close, with our patches mirror images of each other and our thoughts as one, it was as if we were one person. There was comfort in that.

"But, as we grew, that singularity began to fray. We began to differ, from our interests and personal philosophies, we were no longer one. I wanted to leave, and she hated me for it. She tried to keep me from leaving, begging me to stay... but I wanted to see the world outside our little bubble. Since I left, I have not seen her in almost fifteen years," she said, tracing over the moles on the back of Recluse's hand.

Recluse couldn't imagine such a relationship for herself. She was an only child, and while she once had friends, she has not seen them in years. She's not very sure they'd even recognize her at this point with how drastic of a turn her life has taken. But she can hear the sorrow in Blueberry Milk's voice, a grief that still burns even after years have passed, and knew it well.

"Do you wish to see her again?" Recluse asked quietly.

A complicated look passes over Blueberry Milk's face as she mulls the idea over. Her eyes stray to the wet concrete below, eyeing the dirt smudged on her pretty heels that would surely stain through, and shook her head slowly.

"No. I fear if we ever did meet again, I will not remember who I am after," Blueberry Milk concluded, and in the back of Recluse's mind, she hoped her sister stayed far away from them. A rude, bitter thought, but Recluse didn't care. She squeezed Blueberry Milk's hand tighter, wishing to impress her fingerprints into her skin as a brand, and received a reassuring squeezes in return.

Together they waited for the bus, and said nothing more.