jesterlies | Inbox: Iyashikei

Sha-AH!

[ Oh, it's a familiar feeling to be yanked into the shadows.

And not a good one.

He tries not to, sure Shadow Milk won't hurt him, but as the shadows close in he panics. Memories scream. Shadows reaching up as he falls from the Spire. Losing himself, drowning in it, until he doesn't know who he is anymore. Until he doesn't trust himself. Until he's so full of lies he floats on a river of white and his soul jam is lifeless and grey-

He instinctively reaches out to try and grab at something to brace himself, steady himself, but there's nothing but shadows.

No, no he can't be here. He can't be here again! ]

Shadow Milk Cookie!

[It's very easy to do, to just grab Pure Vanilla like this, to try and toss him into the other-realm, to do anything but acknowledge what he doesn't want to acknowledge, even if it means hurting him again.]

[But then he cries out like that and something in him runs cold.]

[No. No no no, this isn't what he's supposed to be doing.]

[Very suddenly it all shrinks back, recedes back into the shadow beneath the bed. Recoiling as if burned. The eyes there no longer look at him, but rather away.]

[ The shadows recoil and so does he. The moment they unwind from around him, he pulls back, hands scrambling around him until he finds his staff again.

His jam is pounding in his dough and he feels sick, his breathing coming rapidly. He grips his staff tightly to his chest, the eye on it wide and darting around, as he tries to calm himself down.

Five things he can see, five things he can touch.

He's still in his room in Iyashikei. He's not in the Spire. That's in the past. His memories are whole and unaltered, he's... him. He's him.

A heavy exhale as he slowly relaxes. ]

... Perhaps another day, then...

[Though Shadow Milk makes his presence as small as possible, he is still watching. He stays quiet as Vanilla pulls himself back together. He wants to scoff at how Pure Vanilla went through all that trouble to try and help him and yet even now-]

[How much would it take for him to tell him to leave, he wonders. How much would he have to push, to get Vanilla to finally give up on him? Something in him burns under his dough, a desire to hurt. To break.]

[The turmoil makes him want to be sick.]

[Instead he remains quiet, like he isn't even there. But finally, before Pure Vanilla can attempt to leave,]

...Fine, I'll do it. Just this once.

[ Indeed, though he can see the eyes still watching, it's silent and he will take that as dismissal. Shadow Milk has made his point. It's a topic to not be broached. On fear of being once more torn apart, made to feel the anguish again.

Shakily he climbs himself to his feet again, brushing his robes off. He reaches down to pick the bracelet up from where it had fallen from his hand, goes to tuck it away.

Pauses to the voice from the void.

He's silent to the agreeance to try it, unsure now if it would be a wise idea. Somehow his voice doesn't shake as he replies, cautiously. ]

No... you needn't. You've made your feelings clear on it.

[That should be relief, that Pure Vanilla has changed his mind, but all it does is frustrate him. Feel a weird pang of something that hurts in his dough that he doesn't understand.]

[He's backing off he's leaving He's giving him space You're going to keep pushing him to give up he can't stand this-]

No!

[He wishes he would crumble alone from the way his voice sounded just then.]

I'm- trying to make it right. Just crumbling humor me, okay?

[ No makes him flinch, but he doesn't move back. He grips his Staff tightly, because... it wasn't anger in Shadow Milks voice.

It was something painful. Heart-wrenchingly so.

Silently he tucks the bracelet into his robe, then steps forward and offers his hand out to the void. His voice soft. ]

Take it. Please, Shadow Milk.

[He’s met with silence again, but the eyes continue to watch, some of them sharp and calculating while others are …anguished and sad.]

[Eventually from the shadows comes …a small blue cookie hand, rather than the tendrils. He reaches out to take Pure Vanilla’s hand, though if it seems shaky, no it doesn’t.]

[ There. Taken for the first time since he offered it. What changed Shadow Milk so? The injury he came with? The story that comes with it that he doesn't yet know?

He's not sure, but he will not squander this chance.

Gently he takes the smaller hand and urges Shadow Milk to come out. ]

Come with me.

[There. Hand taken. If Pure Vanilla wants to make a big deal out of such a thing, that's his prerogative. He comes out from under the bed, and much like a child who doesn't want to admit to being wrong, he keeps his gaze anywhere but at the other.]

[The eyes in his hair will peer every so often though. Nervous almost. Unsure. Worried?]

Not like I've got anything better to do.

[ He wont make a big deal out of it, but his hand will hold Shadow Milks firmly. Not hard enough to prevent him from pulling away if he desires, but also not enough to let it slip away.

He leads him through the house and out the front door. He doesn't pull his hand away, uncaring of who sees their hands together. ]

If you're bored, we can find you more things to do! I know you like sewing, and I'm sure we can find you enough supplies to turn into clothing or stuffed animals.

[ He might kinda maybe miss the little plush someone sat in his room in the spire. It was very cute.

He leads him to the edges of Sweet Street, because going Big In Sweet Street is a Recipe For Disaster.

Gets far enough away so he can slip the bracelet on and transform, picking Shadow Milk up into his hand to carry him further away. Secluded to them. Then sets him down on something and takes his bracelet off to join him, then hold it out. ]

[After a while he gets tired of walking (more like the moment they leave the house) and so he floats instead, so Pure Vanilla can tug him along like a funny blue kite. He doesn't say anything, until he's spoken too, having been wrapped up in his own thoughts]

Hm.

[He has been taking some of the things he finds around the house and scrapping them for materials when he feels the whim to make something. Having actual supplies would be nice, he guesses.]

[As Pure Vanilla shifts into that weird human form with the bracelet, Shadow Milk allows him to pick him up and he settles in the palm of his hand comfortably. Too comfortably, probably. Once they're here, he looks around, judges the area secure enough before he ...]

[hesitation strikes him, a weird spike of anxiety that he hates. His eyes narrow on the bracelet and he snatches it out of his hand. Why does this stupid thing freak him out so much, he hates it.]

[He's better than this, he knows. He's not afraid of anything, lest of all this stupid piece of jewelry. With a sigh that could be construed as frustrated (at who?) he slips the bracelet on.]

[He sits there once its activated, eyes clenched shut, tense. He's hyper aware of the body and it's differences, of skin verses dough, of his hair being made of ...something that is not strictly hair nor icing. Of the way he breathes, hears, smells. He takes a moment to try and ground himself before his heart rate tries to kick up, and slowly, the eyes in his hair begin to open up one at a time.]

[It's not a new vantage point. He's taken larger forms before. When he climbed out of the tree the first time, he towered over them below, and so that is easy enough to adjust to, but this body, urgh.]

[He holds out his hand, spreading his fingers, turning them over to look at. That is what feels wrong and unsettling. He turns his gaze to Pure Vanilla to see where he is, how small-]

[ He smiles as the bracelet is snatched away, and watches as Shadow Milk slips it on. And transforms.

There's something about it. It prickles at the corners of Pure Vanillas thoughts. The way the Jester looms, larger than life and terrifying. For a moment the memory of strings around his wrists, ankles, and throat prickles against his dough.

Then Shadow Milk is looking down to him and he smiles upwards at him. Infinitesimal compared to a human. To a Witch. Small enough to fit in the palm of a hand.

Pure Vanilla raises his arms up in a familiar gesture. Collect him. ]

[He watches him reach up to him, and it stills him a moment, though his hair begins to churn a bit in unease. His expression says otherwise, as he raises an eyebrow and looks down at him.]

Should you be so trusting?

[He reaches down, anyway. Even the way speaking feels is different. Gross.]

Hm, I believe you will not hurt me.

[ Which is silly as Shadow Milk already has. Several times. But he has to trust him.

Show him someone trusts him.

And he's rather used now to hands reaching for him. He waits until Shadow Milks hand is low enough then climbs into it, tucking himself into the palm and setting his staff down. ]

[And just like that, Pure Vanilla climbs into his hand, so small and trusting. He settles down without a care in the world.]

I could.

[There's an odd look in his eyes as he looks down at Pure Vanilla, and his hair begins to writhe and churn more. The eyes in them disjointed and conflicting. He could.]

[He could end this right now, stop this entire dog and pony show, give up, and finally end Pure Vanilla for good. He could close his hand and crush him into dust and Pure Vanilla would be unable to do anything about it. He could-]

I could! I could crumble you right here!

[His fingers curl ever so sound him, and the expression that comes over him is not- not one of joy or excitement. There is something else there, something twisted and broken, but at the same time distraught? Like before with his voice, there is nothing but pain laced between his words that would otherwise be ringing with deranged glee.]

Close my hand and grind you to dust, I could squeeze you until you screamed and begged for me to stop! I could, I could, I could-

[And then he gasps, hand shaking as he heaves violently. He quickly puts his hand back down, shoves Pure Vanilla off of it as fast as he can, rough and urgent. He howls with anguish and pulls the bracelet off, returning back to a cookie.]

[ Oh. Maybe this wasn't the best of ideas. It would seem that whatever issues Shadow Milk has is exacerbated by... being a Witch? Or just the idea of a Witch?

Later he will know. Later he will understand. But for now, he's lost.

And facing the possibility of Shadow Milk caving in to the madness.

His world stills as those fingers begin to curl around him and dread fills him. Shadow Milk could very easily crumble him. Those fingers right now are powerful, bone and muscle driving them. And his body is so very fragile in return, nothing but dough and jam.

But rather than raise his staff for a shield, he waits. He looks upwards at Shadow Milk, tiny face calm, trusting, as Shadow Milk rails down at him. And then he's suddenly being shoved off his hand, and then he does raise his shield so the tumble doesn't hurt him as he lands roughly. But he's quickly climbing to his feet and moving to Shadow Milk as the other returns to a Cookie. ]

Shadow Milk Cookie! It's okay, it's all right! Listen to my voice!

[Like a wounded beast, he screams. The eyes in the hair looking anguished, their eyes unfocused and barely holding shape. His hair writhes like a mass of tentacles, dripping into shadow as Shadow Milk pitches over on his knees.]

You-!

[Oh, it is hard to breathe. Had he a drop of his magic he would be tearing this place to pieces, anything to escape from here.]

You fool, was this what you wanted!?

[ A wounded beast indeed. Howling and terrified, and lost in his own mind.

For a brief moment, Pure Vanilla doesn't know what to do against this side of Shadow Milk he's only seen once before. After asking to be his friend. Ultimately it's the fact that, as pained as he was, Shadow Milk didn't hurt him that makes him move.

Words don't work, he's tried them before. So that leaves one other thing.

He approaches, kneels, and reaches out. Reaches past the writhing hair, the shadows that threaten, and takes the other Cookie.

To give him a hug. ]

I'm sorry...

[The urge to lash out is strong, to hurt and destroy anything to make the pain stop, to make it easier to breathe again. He doesn’t have the energy though, nothing comes to him when he thinks he might rile up.]

[Instead, he is reminded once more that the only person left that keeps trying is still here despite it all, still trying to reach him.]

[He heaves a sob that is ugly, but doesn’t push Vanilla away. He even leans into his hold, but says nothing else for some time, instead sobbing something fierce and terrible.]

[ It's something. He didn't mean to hurt Shadow Milk so badly, he never wanted to do that to him. He wanted to empower him, let him take control over something.

And instead he broke him more thoroughly than anything before.

So he holds the Beast against him, warm and tight, and lets him scream and sob against him. ]

I'm sorry...I never meant to hurt you like this.

[And Honestly, it might have work had Shadow Milk not experienced exactly what he had just experienced back on Earthbread. Perhaps another time, he would have found such a thing liberating, even.]

[Alas this is not the Shadow Milk wailing into his arms right now, venting a pain so great it shudders the fabric of time and space. His anguish will quiet eventually. After a moment he will croak in his hoarse little voice.]

Shut up.

[It's weak, void of any malice. He swallows.]

Makes us even for earlier.

Oh, Shadow Milk Cookie, I don't want to "be even" like that.

[ But he will go silent, shifting himself around so Shadow Milk is more comfortable against him. Let's him cry himself out into silence, his hold never faltering.

Daringly he tilts his head to lay it against Shadow Milks. Just holding the Beast as securely as he can. A physical promise he's there for him. That he can lash out, scream, cry, and snarl, and Pure Vanilla will still be there.

He may not forgive him for some of the things he's done, but he can try to understand why he's done.

Why such a thing as being human has torn him asunder so badly. ]

I am here. I will not leave you.

[No, but maybe he wanted to be even. Maybe it was his way of trying to apologize for what he did without having the concept of such a thing actively floating around in his brain. Maybe he thought it would work out fine, even.]

[Or maybe he really wanted to hurt, for whatever good that would do.]

[He doesn't know. His life is a living hell and has been for as long as he's been alive.]

You should. [Don't, please don't-] You can't possibly get anything out of this.

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