.Ancient Ruler.

The truth was, he welcomed it. The sight of his friend took away the cacophony of thoughts that nipped at his heels and dragged him down into encroaching darkness.

Truly, he was a light in his life. A warm, welcomed presence.

"Truly a master at your craft!" The king smiled. "Even after all these years, my resolve falls weak to your tactics. And yet...I do not mind it." He smiled, a placid smile, one temporarily free of the chains of burden that usually hung from his form. He followed in the subtle shift of their forms, taking not at the well-dressed cookies who were casting their glances their way before they were covered by the blonde cookie's face. Another distraction to draw his sights to him.

A moment to savour the drink, hands wrapped around the glass to ensure it wouldn’t be carelessly knocked into anything else.

Never separated and together forever.. For Freedom.

A smile was returned when they saw the smile formed on the healer’s face, a small nod of their head, as they did indeed find their own answer.

“That we have and one we won’t forsake as the chains of despair that once bind up will no longer hold us back and blind us from the path to True Freedom for us and all of cookiekind.” They replied in a soft and wistful voice.

A pause, as if recalling his statement, and amended it with, “Not as a seeker of truth, nor an ancient hero, but as your friend. As Pure Vanilla Cookie, and not the Bearer of Truth. If, of course, you will have me.”

"My master is very wise," they agreed. Not surprised that Mystic Flour had sparked contemplation in another. "I try to listen to everything she says, and you should, too. She's a prophet, you know. One of the wishes cookies used to demand she grant them foresight." They clasped their paws together and took on a mocking tone, "Mystic Flour, do I end up with the cookie of my dreams? Mystic Flour, how do I die? Mystic Flour, will this harvest season be bountiful?"

Soon, the duo had arrived, and Cloud Haetae continued talking as they pushed open the doors to the inner temple. "On and on and on! Always asking but never listening."

The inner temple was dark, towards the back wall was an ominous bundle of silk held aloft between two pillars. Somehow maintaining its shape despite the large cut down the center of it. Wonder who caused that.

Yes he could relate to that. So many asking questions that he didn’t know the answer to, but offered to help work through the situation to find the answer to said question. Pure Vanilla’s steps slowed as he thought it over, listening to Cloud Haetae’s recounting – giving a better look into what Mystic Flour had gone through during her time as a Virtue. He could see why she thought such things meaningless, empty. A perfect blank void to look forward too – how could one find life full of meaning, if day-in-and-day-out one was subjected to such questions that felt better suited to be found through one’s own resolve?

He stopped almost entirely as they opened the door, tilting his head a little at the skittering noise. The tiny flickers of movement that melted away at the light…

The gardens were breathtaking.

Eve took the saying ‘stop and smell the flowers’ way too literally — stopping at nearly every single plant to take a deep sniff to soothe the nerves. A delighted bleat escapes the sheep, drunk off of lovely fragrances that unraveled her mind with a haze of tranquility.

The sound of similar bleating drew her attention back to reality however, her floppy ears fidgeting in response. Fellow brethren? Here in the gardens?

Certainly, one of these things is not like the other. An elephant in the room, the much larger fey was found lying on her back in a puddle of surrounding sheep, drowning in flowers and petals while engaged in what sounds to be a very serious conversation — consisting of nothing but bleats.

So, he was resigned to following after, settling on a rock nearby to listen for any stray danger. It was uncommon, not rare, for there to be natural predators, and so the healer tended to keep a sharp ear out for any would-be tells for them… but not an unfamiliar bleat joining the noises.

“…?” his head came up, as he heard Drizzle’s familiar baa! ring out, and one return in kind. A newcomer?

Where was an outlet when he needed one. Ripped pages, splashed pain, setting fires- any of them would do right now. And all he could do was bunch fists into this shabby robe and take the treatment like some knock off puppet left at a thrift shop.

"You've said enough."

The healer sprinted to reach him, stopping just long enough to summon enough ice and snow to form a compact snowball. This would work to get Shadow Milk’s attention, in the very least. But before he threw it, he opened a portal behind him, grinning as he then threw it at the jester.

“You’re so angry, aren’t you? Then why don’t we fight it about where others won’t get involved. Because it’s always about me, isn’t it?”

A cyan eye peeked over at the trick imparted to the lesser beastly creature. Perhaps that would make up for it, and in that regard, maybe never getting an apology would be the greatest slap in the face at the other variant. Aster's lips twitched at a threatened smile trying to imagine Maestro bash every piano to pieces to figure out why his instrument became a flock of ducks.

Picking through something dry and not stained... he dug around until finding one of Pure Vanilla's robes- opting for a soft purple, and slipping it over for the time being before turning his attention back over with a hard stare.

"So be honest, since that's your thing... You say we can't win against our other selves if things turn south. Would you still say that even if my dough wasn't tainted? I want to know how weak you think I am to them."

“It’s hard to say.” he began slowly, braiding the damp hair so that it wouldn’t get in the way. “I’ve met the others – for the most part. They’re all different, there are some similarities, but the differences…” his gaze shifted, staring at the door that led out to his bedroom. “I would say in a fair fight, at least three of you would remain standing, all things considered.”

Upon reestablishing his illusion of normalcy to hide the imperfections, Aster released his grip with a harsh shove like this was a wet waste of time before moving to pull himself out of the water to properly dry off. "When I get my body, I'm taking back your soul jam and erasing all of their existences. But I don't know what's worse right now. Maestro ruining my hair or you not not bothering to step in to my defense despite all your claims to care," he finished with a murmur.

It needled the jester to be told that, but sometimes the harsh reminder was necessary. Especially after pulling that stunt today by poking and prodding at Maestro the way he did –

     it had to be said.

In either case, the healer got out of the sudsy bath and grabbed his own towel, pressing it against his face to get the worst of the water out of it.

“What I did was in defense of you.” he said simply, voice muffled. “Intervention is not always a slight to be made, but to protect.” Pure Vanilla pulled the towel away, ignoring how heavy his hair was with all the water, holding it in one hand to gently rest his hand on Shadow Milk’s shoulder. “I know you can handle yourself, and I know you’re smart enough to figure out when it’s time to beat a hasty retreat. But there are some battles you simply cannot win when it comes to other versions of myself and their Shadow Milks.”

"You know exactly what. I'm beginning to feel like you really are out to make a bigger fool of me," he hissed. The jester grabbed the collar of those robes and shoved him deeper into the water, threatening just enough to where he could still hear.

“I understand your frustrations, and I understand your anger, but I will not stand by and watch you get tag-teamed by other versions of you because you chose to poke and prod at their weak spots.” he snapped back, “I’m going to tell you a very unhappy truth, Shadow Milk, and it’s that you are not at full strength despite what you think. Me intervening saved your damned life. Again, may I add.”