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[As he touches the Jam, Shadow Milk lets out a soft little inhale. It flickers a bit, though it is still dim. It's there, it's alive, it is simply...tired. Depleted.]

[His own hands travel down, they cup the Soul Jam for a moment. He thinks distantly, that he really could just take if he wanted, but the thought creates a strange feeling in him, this strange aversion that tells him he would lose something important if he did that. Would lose what he truly wants. Instead he softly glides a finger around its outer casing and plants his hand on the hem of his robe.]

Show me where it marked you.

[ And like Shadow Milk the touch to his own Soul Jam makes him whisper out a noise, a soft sigh. It's intimate, and feels like a touch to his soul. He starts to think something, as those hands go to his robe, before the demand makes his thoughts go silent. He hesitates, but only a little. Not even the other's have seen it, as usually it's been covered in thick sheep wool. Even sheared down, the wool would hide them.

He sighs softly, and reaches up to fit his fingers around Shadow Milks. Hooks them into the neck of his robe and rolls it down to bare the skin of his throat for him.

The black marks are there. Four in unmistakable fingernail drags across the front of his throat, obviously having been deep enough to leave the scars. The fifth is under his jaw on the side, the thumb sliding down and in. As if the claws were attempting to rip his throat out. But it was merely a warning this time. He tilts his chin up, head back, to let Shadow Milk see. ]

It's been half a year since I received them.

[ Or longer, or shorter. Time stretches and shrinks on a whim. ]

[It will be immediately apparent how Shadow Milk feels about them, because the air grows dangerously thick with what can only be described as restrained Dark Moon Magic. There is a lightning in the air that can only barely seep through, but its there, it's present. His Soul Jam sputters like a car trying to turn over, but eventually all of it gives out and that deep well of magic Shadow Milk was trying to reach for runs dry almost as fast as he tried to drink.]

[The eyes that yet live in the shadows of his hair share the sentiment. Shadow Milk despises these marks, and every fiber of his being is furious. A tumultuous storm of possessiveness and dark fury, not unlike what Truthless might have gotten a glimpse of before. Somehow it is all the more potent this time.]

Filthy worm, it thinks it can get away with trying to break what's mine and then stripping me powerless to hide. OH, it will be satisfying to crumble it with my own two hands.

[His touch is careful, to really feel what was done, but then his attention goes elsewhere for a moment. He brings up that bandaged hand because he had assumed this was related.]

What's this?

[ Oh, Shadow Milk. It hurts watching him try and his magic sputter out, something that should come as easily to him as it does Pure Vanilla now. He shh's gently, softly, moving his hands from his robes to reach out. Cup his face to calm him, soothe him, since it seems he enjoys the touch. He doesn't dissuade him from being angry though, let's him touch them as he will. The marks are smooth, healed, yet carry a warmth to them. The Black Suns.

He most definitely won't tell him about the corruption he suffered that had daffodils - the suns flower - growing from the marks like a choke chain.

When his hand is taken he turns his attention to it, frowns gently. ]

Do not touch them.

[ It's a warning before he pulls back, shifts his robe sleeves up to expose the bandage wrapped around his left arm. He unwinds it carefully. There aren't many rocks but they're there, black and glittery under the inn light of the ruined room. Yet they've been obviously filed down, ground smooth down to the skin, which is a little raw around them due to it, scratch marks around it them. ]

It is a disease suffered by many here, that I gave myself shortly upon my arrival so I could experiment on curing it, without forcing the others to go through it. It is spread through being infected by cuts upon the rocks. I could not cure it with my healing as it was.

[ And now he won't get a chance to even try what his Soul Jam has gifted him by empowering his healing, as Suri has ripped that from him. There's a thick bitterness to that, a rising bile of anger before it sinks again. ]

It has spread recently far more than it would otherwise be due to an issue Truthless had with White Lily, which caused the experiment to backfire. But we have made strides, and I feel we are close.

[He has never hated an entity more than he does right now, and that says a lot of his general hatred of the witches that locked him in a tree for thousands of years. He settles down to a low simmer with Vanilla's insistent soothing, but it's very clear he's still pretty mad about all this.]

[The rocks, however, make him mad all over again, but this time he is directing it at Pure Vanilla.]

[Genuinely had he his powers right now, he would have turn the world around them into a spectacle, gown as tall as a building so he could personally grip Vanilla in his hands and shake him. There is an new and special kind of anger he is feeling that has an undercurrent of fear almost. He is learning some fascinating new emotions today.]

Vanilly.

[His hand grips Vanilla's robes.]

What happens if you do not cure this in time.

[ Vanilla sees that mental image and sighs softly, giving him a little fond look. He tests the bond between them by filling himself with calm and tugging, trying to see if he can share the emotion with the Jester. Soothing, relaxing.

Because as those hands grip his robe and the question is asked, he's going to need Shadow Milk to remain calm so he doesn't indeed just go through with shaking him. Or throttling him again. Or ripping the room apart even further. He rests his right hand on one of Shadow Milks hands, squeezes it.

His inner voice is soft. ]

I will die. But that has years yet to go.

[ Provided they don't screw up and advance the infection further in him. Like they just did. He sighs a little and begins to wrap his arm again. He's not going to take the chance that he spreads it. With them being filed down, he won't cut anyone on it, but the rock is still rough and might scrap. Which will be enough to transfer. ]

[You anticipated right. He did not like that answer, and even though Vanilla is trying to flood him with serenity, there's only so much he can do to smother out what is both definitely blistering rage and raw terror.]

[He does not enjoy this feeling at all. What a unique hell he has found himself in, caring about someone for the first time in millennia. He thinks he'd maybe like to go back to being a sociopath.]

[His hands are shaking while he has the robe clutched in his hands, but it's because he is doing everything he has to restrain himself.]

Vanilly...VANILLY... Always so CARELESS with your life, it makes me want to pop your little head off myself.

[ He's calm in return as he finishes wrapping the bandage, tucking it down securely, and then lowering his robe. Then he steps in against Shadow Milk again, pushing his body up against the Beasts, and wraps his arms around his waist. Traps those hands between them, as he lays his head on his shoulder, his eyes closing.

The rage is hot down the connection, but he feels the fear underneath it as well, icy and clawing. The Beast experiencing human emotions in rapid fire. It's going to drive him insane again. ]

I have no desire to die again. I have already twice, and I have lost two very precious pieces of myself.

[ There is something like Truthless' tone in this mental voice, flat and dead. Cold. Heartless. ]

I will not give anything up further. If I cannot cure it in time, I will rip it out of me.

[ And then he's Vanilla again, soft and gentle, his nose resting against the crook of Shadow Milks neck, against his pulse. ]

You will not lose me, unless you kill me yourself.

[It's true, his wild, fluctuating emotions are taking a toll on him, and he has felt at odds with himself quite a lot since waking up here. The control he used to have over his own performances have become shaky at best, like a nervous understudy. It would be a lie to fully blame it on the human body, but what a shock for the Beast of Deceit to lie to himself.]

[He holds himself still as Vanilla moves in, envelopes him, holds him tight. Like a taut rope threatening to snap, he holds his breath. Those words make him shiver, for reasons he isn't sure. That tinge of Truthless for sure, but it's different, too, isn't it? While it occurs to him to be worried about that, he's at least happy that he is taking this seriously. That he is at least promising to not let this get out of hand. That he will not allow himself to die for a cause that was probably never his own.]

Good.

[And he means that. He's slowly coming back down from ...from an almost painful rush of adrenaline. Deep breaths while his body becomes even more spent than it was before.]

We'll revisit THAT later. Show me this bath or ...whatever.

[ There we go. Vanilla keeps the calming sense up the best he can, which isn't too hard considering who he is. Relax. Let your Other Half soothe you. Sink into the radiant warmth. He's here, there is nothing but calm.

Vanilla won't move for a bit longer, though he nods to show he heard him. Shadow Milk does need a bath, but he also needs reassurance and tenderness to help him come back down from an intense cacophony of emotions he's not used to. And who would Pure Vanilla be if he didn't give it to him?

And while he's doing that he can try to use the other-realm like Shadow Milk can to try and snag his hat and the sad little plush that's been sitting in it.

It's like watching a little sunshine mote try to move a boulder. Don't judge him he has to practice. ]

[You're really trying to put him to sleep with that, huh? But it works, especially when any resistance to that radiance has been spent having like eight tantrums in the span of three days. Being a lunatic is exhausting, actually. It's a startling feeling, to let himself just fall into it. To be wrapped up in that warmth.]

[Is this what the light used to feel like? Has he spent so long in the cold darkness that he truly forgot? Or had his madness simply convinced him otherwise.]

[His head drops onto one of Vanilla's shoulders, like a cat that's been scruffed. He watches idly as Vanilla seems to be- oh.]

...Reach out with the assumption it will simply be where you want it to be. It will find its way to you.

[ And Vanilla supports him when he sags into it, cradles him, like he said he would. Wraps him in his arms, both physically, mentally, and spiritually. Tuck his soul against his own. He turns his head when he feels the weight on his shoulder and hand comes up, rests on the back of Shadow Milks, cradles it before digging his fingers into his hair there. Just to take a gentle hold.

And blushes a little when he's caught trying to manipulate the other-realm. ]

Ah, like I did for you?

[ It's a little tease but not much, his voice soft as he follows instructions. It will take him a bit, because he knows this is not a skill-set he's going to be good at, unless it comes to spreading Compassion. But his little oh! both mentally and physically as it pops into his hand, in all it's button eyed glory, is filled with glee. He holds his little friend and then brings it to smoosh it between them for a moment. His hat is a lost cause, it's too big for him yet.

Only then does he pull back finally. ]

Let's get you cleaned up.

[ He walks over to his hat to fetch it, then gently set the plush back onto his head, and put his hat on to secure it there. The weight keeps it down and secure, and he beams to Shadow Milk and holds out a hand. ]

We have to make a small journey to the bath house next door. I'll hide you.

[ Because... yeah. ]

[It's a particularly weightless feeling, to be so closely tucked into Vanilla in such a way. It's as close as they can get to that brief moment they were truly one. It is all encompassing and yet there is a feeling of just barely incompleteness that is hard for Shadow Milk to ignore. He does not care for the implications of that, and so he is simply going to bask instead, in this light. Like a cold little moth he's simply gotten a taste and wants to gobble it all up like the greedy insect he is.]

Bingo~ Of course, I had to do quiiiite a lot of string pulling and tugging to make that finally work to my favor, but after being imprisoned for eons, you have no choice but to learn patience. Or go mad. Or BOTH!! Hahahaha.

[But there is a flush of pride between them when he manages to get it. It seems his control over the other-realm isn't as strong as it was before when they split back up, but he isn't surprised to see him picking it up quickly from scratch. It is nice that one of them can still use it.]

Oooooh? Is there SOCIETAL connotations I should be aware of?? [Once that he can tear open and embarrass Vanilla with?? Create a little chaos??]

[ He felt that, Shadow Milk. That touch of yearning again. For Truthless? The Deceit steeped Cookie? It makes him jealous, strangely enough. He's going to have to fix that.

Shadow Milk shouldn't yearn. For anything. Not even his other self.

Only him.

The joking makes him huff softly, trying not to be amused, but he truly can't help it. But it's also a little sad, because it's not exactly a joke. Instead of responding he reaches out to take Shadow Milks hand and begin leading him to the door.

And blushes hard as the stupid Jester hits it a little on the head. Clears his throat. ]

It... ah...

[ Well how does he answer that? Shadow Milk doesn't have the embarrassment or shame that would normally come from being jerked off in your pants and having the cum spot there. It's mostly embarrassing for Pure Vanilla, it's true, but less shame and more...

Well! And more... possessiveness! No one else is-

He huffs hard as he leads Shadow Milk out of the door. ]

Oh, do be quiet.

[For Truthless, perhaps a little, but more importantly that moment of Oneness. They are still just the slightest bit pulled apart, and once Shadow Milk got the taste of that feeling, it's hard to forget.]

[However that rush of jealousy and possessiveness perks him right up. Oh, ho, so whateever he'd been thinking set him off. That's an easy way for him to fix it right there. Not even Truthless was this possessive. There's a delightful loving but twisted feeling to it that excited him.]

Oooooooh ho HO HO HO, be quiet??

[He is holding your hand but he is also floating along like the worlds most obnoxious kite. But don't worry, he floats in reaaaly close to him.]

I think you should make me.

[ Oh, his throat must be feeling better if he's floating in close like that and speaking outloud. For a moment Pure Vanilla debates ignoring him, just to be a brat in return, but he knows if he doesn't figure something out, Shadow Milk will just get louder.

So he stops walking to turn, reaching up to grip the Beasts hair by his face and pull the floating blueberry down to him. The kiss is heated and heavy as he pulls the hand holding Shadow Milk past him so the other is forced to come in close and remain there. His licks against the seam of the Beasts lips and then pushes into his mouth, touching his tongue with his own just to taste him. Then he pulls back and bites hard against his bottom lip, blunt teeth sinking in until there's blood.

Then he licks the split lip with a soft, apologetic touch, before murmuring against Shadow Milks mouth, his voice soft and husky. ]

Be a good boy and shut up, and I promise to give you more pleasure than you ever recall feeling.

[ And, for good measure, he tries to dig his mental fingers into the connection, drags a mental tongue across it just like he did with Shadow Milks lips. Then pulls back with a smile, sweet and chaste like he didn't just do that, and turns and begins walking again. ]

Coming?

[It doesn't, it hurts like hell, but what's a little pain for the bit? Anyway, he wonders if he can be even more annoying and get some kind of reaction out of-]

[Oh.]

[OH.]

[What a disgraceful noise he makes when Vanilla just captures him, pulls him, and then does that. Once again, it's deeply overwhelming, the sudden heated contact, the aggression, the intrusiveness of it. Like he has no choice but to let him in, to let him consume him from the inside out, and Shadow Milk is more than willing to lay himself out like a buffet.]

[He feels that pinch on his lips, the hot feeling of blood running down his lips, the taste of it in his own mouth, and then that gentle apology afterwards. It sends fire down his spine and he's left stunned, once again, trying to get his brain to catch back up again.]

[He floats there kind of stupidly with an attracted, gobsmacked look on his face and then starts to float after him.]

Coming.

[He hopes to the witches this man is the death of him.]

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