#mywritingstuff

The Fount of Knowledge rarely had regrets, his pursuit of knowledge did not allow for them. But he was unfortunately learning what real regret was. It has been a few weeks since the argument the two of you had, he'd figured that it would give you both enough time to cool off; for you to rethink the foolish notion of him 'running away' from his duties as the Fount of Knowledge.

Except you… had simply vanished. Your room was empty, a faint layer of dust already settling across the desk. The scholars of the Spire simply shrugging when he asked them about you. One looked at him with pity as they sighed. "They left, Fount of Knowledge. They claimed the Spire did not have the knowledge they sought."

The Spire? Being unable to provide the knowledge you were after? Unbelievable! He almost scoffed in the poor scholars face before they shakily hand him a letter, your handwriting scrawled across the paper. He didn't bother to listen to whatever else the unfortunate cookie said, snatching the letter and teleporting directly back to his office.

The Fount's hands shook as he ripped open the envelope.

Dear Fount of Knowledge,

By the time you're reading this letter I'd have already left. While I'll cherish our time together I have come to realize we are two separate beasts. You were right, I'll never understand you or your purpose. I was born into this world with no purpose, forced into an unfamiliar place where I knew nothing and could do nothing.

I've come to realize that what I seek cannot be found within the Spire of All Knowledge. My purpose- if there is one; is not here. Humans are inherently selfish, it's something that runs in our blood (or jam, I suppose). I must follow what I know, which is to selfishly seek a life I desire.

Knowledge is vital but I'd rather live the experience than read it. I want to experience the world I've read about, the soda oceans and sugar snow peaks.

And perhaps, foolishly, I'd like to find a place to truly call home; with a family I can call my own. You are not willing to give up your duties, this I have finally come to terms with, but I cannot give up my selfish desires.

I wish you the best of luck-

The letter was promptly balled up and thrown across the room, the Fount's hair flares, writhing as though it were its own entity. He harshly rubs at his eyes, willing the tears to stop before they could fully form.

You! You!!! How dare you!? He wanted to commit to his anger, commit to his rage that you'd so cruelly abandon him!

But he couldn't. He'd always known that you wanted to see Earthbread, to explore its every crevice and learn its secrets. Yet you abstained, chained to the Spire by his own selfishness. His need to keep the one cookie who treated him not as the Fount of Knowledge, but as a regular cookie with limits and feelings. You'd wanted to explore it with him but knew he'd refuse. It shouldn't have been a surprise that eventually you'd give up on him and go on your own.

Perhaps the argument was the last push you needed. The last reminder that his duties to the Witches who refused to answer him were more important than you. The last straw as he picked the cookies who spat in the face of his Truth over you who had always accepted it.

He ran his hands through his hair, soothing it back down. He had no idea when you'd written this letter, you barely spoke to the scholars or students who littered the Spire so he doubted you'd ever tell any of them. Hell, the scholar who you'd given the letter to was one you only spoke to 7 times! The Fount paced back and forth across his office, trying to remember every moment where you'd express interest in something.

You'd talked about seeing the Sugar of Happiness' garden, would you go there? No… you'd once mentioned that the overly cloying scent of sugar would probably make you nauseous.

The Spice lands? Also a no, you'd mentioned your dough was far too sensitive to the spices after spending a few hours with the Herald of Change. His mere spicy presence causing your dough issues.

He mentally goes through what you'd said about the other Virtue's territories; the pros and cons you'd discussed about each location. The Salt Lands were also a no, your dough too fragile to withstand the dry air. The Flour Peaks were a no, the faerie kingdom was a no, he desperately rattles his brain for some sort of answer.

He freezes as it comes to him, the dreaded truth that he, himself, wanted to deny.

Crispia. You were planning on leaving, and you'd probably meant it. You weren't just going to leave him, were you? You were going to leave the continent as a whole.

Why would you stay with one of the other Virtues? You already said you didn't want to watch him destroy himself for others, staying with the Virtues meant you'd still see him on occasion. Leaving the continent made the most sense in your odd mind, there'd be no risk of seeing him ever. No risk of hearing of his downfall should it come, just as you warned him it would many times.

His heart hammers in his chest as he rushes to open a map, knocking everything off his desk in his frantic movements. He glares down at it as he mentally calculates routes and how long it'd take to travel; if he were lucky you would've traveled on foot for most of the route to the nearest harbor. If he were unlucky? It would be too late; and you'd already be an ocean away.

He nods to himself, quickly changing his form as he rushes through a portal to one of the nearby villages. He just has to hope you didn't get too far, and hope to the Witches you'd listen to him.

---------------------------------------------------

You'd never been to the beach before, but even you could tell the stark difference between a regular Earth beach and an Earthbread beach. The air was sweet instead of salty, the ocean bubbled in ways the salt water couldn't in your previous life. The only similarity was the tranquil beauty of the moon shining upon the gentle waves that crash against the sand.

Your heart weighed heavy. You know you'll regret the way you left, but Truth was valuable, and yours was that you had to leave. You hope the Fount would understand, he couldn't give up what he was made for, just as you couldn't give up what you'd dreamed of. You needed to leave the Spire, you had to see the world and all it was.

The cookies you'd met on your journey so far were kind, accepting you into traveling groups and allowing you the occasional cart ride when your dough would grow weary. It was exhausting, yet exhilarating. The soreness of your dough was a welcome change to the monotony of everlasting studies and lonely readings.

It helped that you weren't in much of a hurry. Offering to help when you could to pay for their kindness in turn. The work was also a welcome distraction from the grief and worry you felt.

The Fount would be fine, you reason. You were simply paranoid, refusing to see it from the perspective of an immortal God. You were a fool who viewed it from your own perspective, he had every right to get upset with you. You just hope your letter to him would pacify his worries about you.

You were not a child who needed protecting from the cruel world, you were an adult and you needed the freedom to discover who you were in this new world. Pristine Milk Cookie The Fount of Knowledge had taught you enough about Earthbread that you could manage on your own.

None of the cookies you'd met so far had even suspected you to be something different, and you'd managed to play up your fragility extremely well, to the point where when danger appeared every other cookie in the group had rushed to defend you. You felt bad about taking advantage of their kindness, the reality being that you could defend yourself, but the risk of them realizing you were not bleeding jam was far greater than the guilt.

Your deceit would weigh on you, you're sure, but it's for your greater good.

You close your eyes, willing the guilt away, soon you'd leave everything behind. Crispia was waiting, and you were eager to see everything you'd denied yourself for the years you'd been in the Spire. It wasn't fair to either you or the Fount. You would never understand him, and he'd never leave with you.

A voice calls out to you, whispering your name breathlessly and almost reverently. You blink your eyes open in confusion, none of the travelers you came to this village with were ever told your name, so who could be calling you?

Pristine Milk Cookie The Fount of Knowledge, clad in his civilian disguise, stood a ways away. He stares at you with wide eyes and shaking hands, his chest heaving with exertion. He looked like an absolute mess, vest unbuttoned and shirt untucked with his normally neat hair mussed up from what you could only assume was him rushing about.

"I finally found you," his voice heavy with both grief and relief as he approaches you, reaching out towards you as though to embrace you; though he falters as you step away from him.

"Why are you here?" You didn't mean for your voice to sound as cold as it did, and you can't help but feel bad as he flinches. "Didn't you get my letter?" You tilt your head at him.

The Fount of Knowledge's face flushes as you scrutinize him, his hands moving to play with the lapels of his disheveled vest. He looked far more like a regular cookie now than he had the entire time you'd known him. He looked… small. Weak. Like if you glare at him too harshly he'd wither away into crumbs.

"I… did not read it fully." You narrow your eyes at his confession. Seriously? Before you can even open your mouth to scold him he continues. "It hurt. To know I'd chased you away," he glances back up into your eyes before looking away again, "I was upset at first, that you'd abandon me… but you were right." The Fount frowns as he stares over the ocean. "I, in my cowardice, refused to let you go. I kept you in a gilded cage despite knowing you wished to be free- all because I was too afraid to lose you."

You, in turn, frown. "Fount of Knowledge," you don't see the way he flinches at the name, expression warping as though you'd struck him, "you had refused to let me go, yes, but I was the fool who tried to refuse to leave without you. Not understanding you and refusing to even try." You turn away from him to glower at the moon. "You're right, in that I'll never understand you."

He opens his mouth, but doesn't get the chance to say anything as you continue. "I relent that I'll never understand what it's like to have a purpose. To be born for something or have it be bestowed upon me." His mouth shuts with an audible click as his expression wilts, guilt worming through his dough and soul jam. "I shouldn't have pushed you so hard, to try and force you to abandon everything you stood for."

You take a deep breath. "Fount of Knowledge, I'm sor-"

"Don't." You almost squawk as you're swung around to face him, his hands squeezing your shoulders almost painfully. He looked hurt, like you'd struck him directly. "Don't call me that."

You look at him in confusion. "That's your-"

"Please don't." He chokes. "Please don't call me that. I'm not-" The cookie pauses, fighting for the proper words. "I'm not…" he leans forward, pressing his forehead against your sternum.

"For you… I don't want to be the Fount of Knowledge." His voice was strained, as though the confession were physically painful. "I've thought about it. Considered it. I'd never wanted anything but knowledge before I'd met you." You stood stock still, even as your clothes grew damp from his tears. His hands move from your shoulders to your back as he embraces you, his face moving from being buried against your chest to being buried in your shoulder.

"I'm scared, of how much I desire it." The virtue shook as he held you, and you gently wrap your arms around him, feeling him sag in relief at the feeling. "I want so badly to run away with you, but I'm scared," his confession was muffled against your dough, "I'm terrified of who I'll be if I abandon my duties. Without the Fount of Knowledge who would I be?"

You gently peel away from him, taking his reluctant face in your hands as he steps back.

"You'd be Pristine Milk Cookie." you smile fondly at him. "My dearest friend who took the time out of his busy life to guide me, who protected me, who despite my ignorance had treated me as an adult instead of an annoying overgrown child." His face flushes as he glances away from your genuine gaze.

You dare to bring his face closer, pressing a kiss to his forehead where his mark would be in his other form.

"You are my dearest companion no matter who you are or what you choose." His hands come up to cradle yours where they rest on his cheeks. "Even if we are apart, whether by towns or by continents, you are still important to me." You smile at him, though his expression is still morose.

He glances out at the sea again, the moon dipping further to the horizon. You briefly wonder what he's thinking about.

You don't get a real answer, as he suddenly drops to one knee. Your hands move back on instinct but he keeps his hold on your hands, moving to hold both of them between you two.

"I want to run away with you." Your eyes widen in shock, mouth falling agape at his declaration. "It is impulsive and selfish, but… you were right. The cookies… they've turned their backs to the Truth. It doesn't matter what I do or how I do it, it'll only cause me pain to continue on the path chosen for me." He leans forward to press the back of your hands to his forehead. "The Witches… they'd left us long ago… would she even care if I strayed? Or would she encourage me to choose what makes me happy?"

You weren't sure what to say. What could you say? He nuzzles his face against your hands one more time before pulling back to examine your expression.

"…would you have me? Even if I weren't the Fount of Knowledge? Even if I were a regular cookie?"

You both knew it was a stupid question, but you answer it all the same.

"Of course I'd have you no matter what, Soul jam or not, emissary of the gods or not, regular cookie or not-" You yelp as he lunges at you, wrapping you in a hug that almost hurt from how tight it was. You return it regardless, hands balling into fists as you grip at his vest like a lifeline.

You squeak as he crashes his lips into yours, though you immediately melt into the kiss. He pulls back after a bit, face flushed and glasses askew as he examines your own love struck expression.

He presses his forehead to yours, and you giggle as you reach up to fix his glasses.

"I love you, Pristine Milk Cookie." You whisper smile growing as his face flushes even bluer.

Pure Vanilla Cookie was one of your absolute dearest friends on Earthbread. The bond you shared with him was forged through trust and admiration on both sides. He knew of your Truth, about what you were and who you were, of the blood that ran through your dough instead of the jam he was used to. He knew that you were what could truly be considered a God; on par with the Witches. You would do just about anything for the ancient if he simply requested it.

What he was currently asking for, however? That was a bit beyond what you were willing to do for him. Really you had no idea what on Earthbread had led to him asking this of you.

You blink at him owlishly as he idly worries the handle of his staff. "You want me to take in the Beast of Deceit… and fix him?" Your voice was incredulous as you begin to squint at him, and he squirms uncomfortably in response.

"I truly believe you can convince him to see the error of his ways- I'm sure of it." Pure Vanilla Cookie's voice was firm, unwavering in his belief that you could somehow convince an ancient evil that his way of existing was wrong and that he could 'totally do better'.

Sure, you had been rehabilitating some of the other beasts within your kingdom, but Mystic Flour Cookie and Eternal Sugar Cookie were fairly tame to begin with!

Mystic Flour's apathy was easy to deal with, though you didn't originally intend to change her in any way. Your arguments about how her caring if others reached 'enlightenment' was the antithesis of what she proclaimed to be 'apathy' had apparently stuck with her more than you realized. Even still; her change had taken years!

Eternal Sugar's situation could barely even be considered 'rehabilitation', considering that she came to your kingdom already reconsidering what she considered true happiness. One visit from Hollyberry Cookie and Eternal Sugar had elected to settle down within your territories, preaching that she had realized true happiness is a relaxing day after working hard. That true happiness comes from the rest with those you cherish dearly after an ordeal. You barely had to do anything!

You sigh as you bury your face in your hands. You hardly react as you feel Pure Vanilla's hand rest on your back, the warm pulse of healing magic doing little to satiate the growing migraine already forming.

Shadow Milk Cookie… was an entirely different beast in a literal sense. He was an egomaniac who lied as easily as he breathed and had a deep rooted disdain for Cookiekind that burned nearly as bright as Golden Cheese Cookie. There was no way in Heaven, Hell, or Earthbread you were letting that bastard into your kingdom! He wasn't just a risk to your poor citizens, who'd have to live with whatever choice you'd make, but he was a risk to your children! Something Pure Vanilla Cookie was already very intimately familiar with, and a cause for one of the major fights in your relationship with him.

You lean back, hands falling away from your face as you look up at him. His own hand slides from your back to your shoulder, gripping it firmly in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.

"Do you really believe that cookie can change?" Your tone spoke of exhaustion, but Pure Vanilla just nods at you.

Then he smiles, leaning forward so your faces were almost touching. "I believe that if any cookie can change his mind, it'd be you." You could feel heat rush to your face as you glance away from him, avoiding his now open eyes as he gazes upon you in earnest. "You are a wonderful cookie, my dearest friend, and you've made a wonderful place in this world to fit so many cookies of differing flavors and mindsets." It was your turn to squirm in your seat, trying to put some space between you and the praise Pure Vanilla was spouting.

In the end, you were truly helpless to Pure Vanilla Cookie's charms, which might've been a mistake on your part.

No, it was definitely a mistake on your part. Because the very first thing that shitty jester did upon entering your castle was terrorize your daughter, and the very first thing you did upon seeing him was pin him to the floor; golden trident gleaming as it held fast against his throat; shining tines embedded deep within the marbled floor to prevent him from moving even an inch. Shadow Milk's hands had scrabbled fruitlessly against the shaft of your weapon, against the floors, and finally against your dress pants as you loomed over him. The beasts expression had been a mixture of fear, of rage, and of unrestrained glee.

You genuinely wished you'd crumbled him right there in that moment. It would've prevented most of your problems, but Pure Vanilla's hand against your arm attempting to get you to remove the trident from that stupid clowns throat and his rushed apologies and assurances had warded you off of slaughtering that beast in cold jam.

A massive mistake, really. Shadow Milk has caused you nothing but stress since that day. Moving things around your office without rhyme or reason, changing your paperwork in almost undetectable ways that ruined your accounting or proposals, terrorizing the castle staff and disrupting their jobs- somehow changing the layout of your castle to be more confusing! Essentially turning it into a maze that made very little sense! The list of problems he caused could truly go on and on.

It wasn't until you'd pinned him against the wall, trapping his body between yours and the rough surface, that he'd begun to behave. Your hands wrapped around his throat threatening to cut off jam and air supply to that twisted head of his. You took a sick sort of joy out of seeing his expression twist into genuine fear as you leaned closer to him, promising him that if he kept up this behavior you'd stain the town square with his jam for generations to come. After your threat you just tossed him to the side, the magic in your voice echoing as you commanded him to 'get out of your sight immediately'. You didn't bother to turn or look as you heard one of his portals open and close behind you.

…okay so. Maybe that was a little cruel and inappropriate, and maybe you shouldn't have lashed out like that in frustration. You knew for sure that if Pure Vanilla Cookie had ever heard you'd done that to Shadow Milk that he'd never let you hear the end of it, and he'd probably sit you down to 'talk about your feelings' or something. Though it's not like Shadow Milk was that bothered by it. He'd ended up coming back after a few days, popping (literally in a puff of smoke) into your office with a flourish and a smirk that pissed you off before he could even speak.

The only problem was that the experience had somehow made him more annoying. Shadow Milk no longer tormented your staff or your kids, however, no. His attention was solely on you now. His methods had also changed, switching from fucking with your paperwork in ways that would take days to correct to yapping your ear off to distract you from said paperwork. He'd still move things around, but it was mainly moving your pen from one side of your desk to the other while you weren't looking, ultimately harmless pranks that had no real damage aside from getting on your last nerve.

Really, Shadow Milk was just becoming an annoyance you could live with. It did help that, every once in a blue moon, he'd piss off to go bother one of the other beasts within your kingdom; leaving you with some valuable 'no Beast of Deceit' time, and the small sacrifice of your sanity and peace of mind was a small price to pay if it meant he'd leave your poor citizens alone. Freeing them from malicious rumors and harmful pranks that he'd tried pulling when he first arrived.

Sometimes the beast could even be helpful. His ability to keep an eye (or several) on things was useful, as your own watchful eye required considerable concentration to use. It was just a bonus that he loved tattling on your children, gleefully informing you of when Gingerbrave, Wizard Cookie, and Strawberry Cookie were traveling too far into the uncharted territories of your kingdom where you'd yet to expand to; or smugly telling you that Custard Cookie the III was lost somewhere in town after Chili Pepper Cookie got distracted by something shiny. He took immense pleasure in watching you scold her afterwards, but took even more pleasure in the light praise you'd give him afterwards. He'd practically strut around the castle preening afterwards, causing quite a few of the castle employees to give you odd glances.

You'd still have your… moments. Of course. Shadow Milk Cookie knew just how to push your buttons to get you to react, and sometimes that reaction was to launch a trident directly at his stupid, smug face. Half the time he'd manage to dodge it near instantly, while others you'd manage to catch him off guard; the golden forked weapon rending through his dough like paper and splattering jam across your office walls. His reactions were… deeply unsettling and uncomfortable to witness. The way he'd giggle manically when you'd miss or just barely mar his dough, or the way he'd burst into delirious booming laughter when you did hit him. The shadows ebbing and pulsating as though they were living breathing things as he howls with laughter, hands staining strawberry red as he tries to stem the bleeding.

You for sure owed your healer, Oatmeal Raisin Cookie, a significant raise and a massive gift basket. As she was often the one called into your office to the sight of a delusional clown covered in his own jam and you glaring out your window, knuckles turning pale from how hard you were gripping one of your tridents in your fist to resist the urge to stab him.

You knew she'd tell Pure Vanilla Cookie about your… scuffles with the Beast of Deceit, either the next time she saw him or through letters, but could he truly blame you? You were reluctant to even exist near the clown, let alone try and fix him. Shadow Milk was a lot for one cookie to deal with, and though you had godly powers you were still, at heart, a little cookie.

Pure Vanilla Cookie really couldn't blame you, though. It was his idea to try and change Shadow Milk, but it was you who had taken on that burden as selflessly as you always did. Taking on burden after burden for others despite the toll it took on you.

He did truly feel bad about it, as well. He knew it'd be an ordeal, you hated Shadow Milk with every crumb of your being after the events in the Spire, but Pure Vanilla Cookie really did have absolute faith that you'd be able to change the beast- just like you had with Mystic Flour and Eternal Sugar!

… he just didn't expect that it'd involve so much violence and jam shed. Obviously he'd known about your arguments and fights with the beast, Oatmeal Raisin Cookie had kept him VERY up to date on that! …but it wasn't until he saw the fights himself that he understood why she was so… frustrated with Shadow Milk specifically.

The expression on Shadow Milk Cookie's face every time you threatened him… the way his expression would twist into something disturbingly lovesick when you'd pin him to the floor, heel digging into his chest just under his Soul Jam while your trident is jammed up to his throat. You didn't even notice, did you? The way Shadow Milk would purposefully irritate you just so you'd lash out, the way his expression would shift into excitement when you'd resort to violence- or maybe you did, and you chose to ignore it.

Either way, Pure Vanilla had to agree with his student, Oatmeal Raisin Cookie was right that Shadow Milk was beyond frustrating. The beast was so desperate for any modicum of attention from you that it didn't matter if it were good or bad, if it ended with his jam being spilt against the tile of your office, or if it ended with his crumbling. He wanted your attention solely on him and he would get it through any means necessary.

Though surely… if you used positive reinforcement, you could get Shadow Milk to change? If you rewarded him with attention after good deeds maybe he'd be less likely to cause chaos and spread deceit-

Though Pure Vanilla would hesitate to bring the idea to light, the mere thought of your reaction was enough to make him reconsider even thinking it in the first place. He was, after all, still recovering from the Truthless Recluse incident, the 5 months of silent treatment and disappointed glare still haunted him, the silence and short answers from you wearing his heart down. He did fully understand why you'd react that way however!

You were so against Gingerbrave and his friends going with him to that cursed spire, yet you had relented to their begging and Pure Vanilla's insistence he could protect them; just for him to fail as he fell into deceit, in turn allowing them to be tormented and injured by Shadow Milk and his own neglect. Pure Vanilla was just lucky his punishment from you wasn't worse, as your children had rushed to his defense upon their return to your kingdom. Insisting that it wasn't his fault in the slightest that things had gone that way, though even without the kids batting for him he had still begged for your forgiveness and grovelled at your feet.

He's 100 percent sure that the only reason you had ever forgiven him in the end was because of your children, you loved them more than anything in the world. They had begged and pleaded with you to forgive him, to the point where even Custard had gotten involved, and you were especially weak to the youngest of your kids. So you had, albeit begrudgingly, forgiven him in the end. Allowing him to re-enter your kingdom freely without the constant oppressive presence of your ever watchful eye. He truly owed those kids his life, and possibly quite a few treats, for helping him. He wasn't sure what he'd do with himself if you had remained mad at him for the rest of eternity.

Which is precisely why he tended to treat delicately in these regards, primarily when it came to Shadow Milk Cookie. Angering you like that again was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

He lov- cherished your friendship far too much to have it be ruined by the Beast of Deceit again.

Though, had Pure Vanilla Cookie not known any better; he would've assumed the beast was upsetting you specifically to get back at him for his perceived 'betrayal' back at the spire.

Pure Vanilla did know better, though. After all, Pure Vanilla of all cookies would recognize the expression Shadow Milk Cookie wore when you weren't looking, the distant look in his eyes and the soft smile he'd wear when your back was turned. The quiet sigh of disappointment as soon as your eyes leave his, wishing your attention were back on him instead of whatever mayoral duties you would diligently perform for the betterment and well being of your kingdom.

Pure Vanilla knew those habits intimately, as he was the same. Yearning for your attention, for the embrace you'd give him on your better days, to the way you'd roll your eyes when he'd tell you to take a break; yet you'd set your paperwork aside for later to have tea with him anyways. He'd given you that same soft expression when you'd turn away from him to chat with one of the other ancients at meetings, the same sigh when you'd stop walking with him because you'd passed by construction on another building that you 'really had to check up on'.

"Cookies bleed jam, don't they?"

Pure Vanilla's brow furrows as he looks up at you from across the library, your expression sour as you glare down at your hand.

"Yes, why do you ask?" You don't respond, instead gently moving your hand around to glare at it further. Pure Vanilla Cookie gently places the book he was holding back on the shelf, worry filling his soul at your silence. As he approaches you he gets a better look at what you were glowering at, a ruby red liquid thinner than jam bubbling out from a paper cut on your palm.

"… this most certainly is not jam, is it?" His question goes unanswered as you watch him examine your palm. He knew humans did not bleed jam as he and cookie-kind did, but he wasn't aware a former human turned cookie would still bleed actual blood. Pure Vanilla Cookie hums as he gently takes your injured hand, using it to guide you back into your connected office with you listlessly trailing after him. The ancient just hopes you aren't in shock with how unresponsive you appear to be.

You don't complain as he sits you back at your desk, nor do you complain as he digs through various cabinets and drawers searching for the first aid kit you kept hidden within it. You just stare. Stare at the blood staining your dough and making it soggy.

"…so does this make me a cookie or not?" Pure Vanilla pauses his rifling to consider it.

"I… don't know." He wishes he could've given you a better answer, though all he can do is make a quiet noise of excitement as he pulls the first aid kit out from under several files of paperwork. "Do you believe you are a cookie?" Pure Vanilla's voice was as gentle as his hands, carefully taking your hand and beginning to wipe up the blood that stained your dough.

You squint, there were different parameters for humanity and what made someone human, though there were also the same or similar parameters surrounding cookies. Both had a soul, a body, they bleed, laughed, cried, aged, died. The question left you with a migraine and a deep sense of dread within your chest, so you instead refocus on the cookie before you.

You watch as he works diligently to prepare the cut for bandaging, the motions familiar yet foreign. Clean the wound, apply a treatment, cover it firmly but not tightly, familiar in an uncomfortable way that made your heart ache in your chest.

"There, that should be good." Pure Vanilla smiles at you as you offer a half hearted one in return.

You sigh, quietly, and Pure Vanilla tilts his head at you in return. You slump back into your chair, the adrenaline from your rather nasty paper cut fading and replaced with the overwhelming horror of another secret to keep.

"…I can never get injured in front of others." You mumble it quietly, though the ancient still heard you loud and clear. The corners of his mouth tug downwards into a frown as he gently takes your uninjured hand in his and begins to rub the back with his thumb.

Before he can speak you groan even louder, slumping further into your chair. "Uggh that also means I taste disgusting." You drag out the last word as you practically slide off the chair, Pure Vanilla barking out a startled laugh at your declaration of how nasty you'd be flavor wise.

He was just happy you'd keep some humor, even during your injuries. Though his Soul weighed heavy in sorrow at the Truths you must hide.