A realization struck Galleous as he was letting the baby gnaw on his finger. "What is his name?" He looked at his brother as he asked. The other Sendaris were standing awkwardly by the stone counter. His tail was hovering just over the floor, stiff and uncertain.
"Uh—I did not have time to ask," Thalleous said, making a vague gesture with his hand. Galleous' would have been more upset, if there was something for him to get upset over. How do you ask for every detail in a situation like that? Even if a name feels like something anyone would first ask.
"I cannot just go around asking a family to take in a clanless and nameless child." Even as he spoke, Galleous was shifting through names in his own mind. The black-smith had never been the best at coming up with names, most of his work was making items for others to name. Let alone living people.
Galleous stared at the baby for a long moment, who was still unaware of the issue at hand. He was focused on Galleous' thumb like it had wronged him somehow. Galleous could barely even feel the tiny teeth trying to chew through his finger.
"Oriel?" Galleous said out loud, and the baby finally looked away from his hand. White eyes looked up like that was his name, not a name that was just thrown out.
The baby was silent for a moment, then suddenly his tail began to wag and his mouth turned into a wide toothy smile.
"Oh? Oriel? Do we like that one?" Galleous asked, putting on the soft tone he used for babies without a thought. Before he remembered that Thalleous was still in the room.
"Well… That solves that." Galleous looked back up to his brother, who looked very much like he wanted to jump out a window. There was a moment that Galleous wondered if he should let him.
"You can go now, I have this," Galleous kept his tone even. Even though he wanted to say more, he didn't even know what else he would say. Just something about how Thalleous is just dropping a kid and leaving. Or maybe about the boy's parents.
Thalleous strode towards the door of the shop quickly, but just as he was about to cross the threshold he stopped. There was a heavy pause as he slowly looked back, his face twisted in a kind of uncertainty.
"I… I can come back, and check on him. Right?" That question made Galleous paused, he stared at his younger brother for a time. Then a sigh escaped him; either of defeat or acceptance.
Thalleous was in a cell. It was a dark cell, but he could not tell if it was cold. His body felt hot, painfully hot, so hot that even the cell that looked cold did not feel it.
The Sendaris was sitting in the corner of this cell. He pressed himself back into the brick, trying to focus on the pain of the stone digging into his hide. Not the burning ache that was covering his arms.
The "goo" was everywhere, it had almost completely covered his arms and his hands were just gone. It was clawing through his skin, searching for his flesh to devour him entirely. To slip into his mind and rob him of all that made him Ardoni. And that terrified him.
This was how he was going to die. This was how he would fade from the Overworld; in a cell, scalding hot and afraid. Without a clue what was going to happen next. If the Ardoni would survive, or if Ardonia would still stand at the end.
Or if Galleous would live—if he was still alive. He must be, Ataraxia was far from the clan's territory. If Ingressus had not yet seen the infected then Ataraxia must still be safe from it. Maybe Galleous already knew of what happened and was making sure his city was safe.
That sounded like something Galleous would do, he was good about getting information.
Thalleous looked down at his arms once more. There was blood, it was dripping from the two limbs. A lot of it and the burning was in his veins now. His mind felt hazy and he was so tired.
Alright so shocker I have YET another au-actually I have a couple here right now. But I also have a question.
Both of these au's are a bit complicated as in the situation around Thalleous and Voltaris is something I am struggling with. I know that usually people enjoy seeing him becoming an antagonist character when it comes to the Voltaris. But I just find it more interesting to go the opposite direction. I want to see this man be forced to see everything he did as Champion as what it is; slaughter. I want to see this man realize that what he did was horrific to people that did not deserve it.
I guess what I am asking is am I the only one that wants to see this? It is not quite complete redemption, more of a real change of heart, realizing that no matter what he does or says the Voltaris will never see him as anything better then a "Champion" and that that title is covered in blood.
I want to see him become genuinely good, accept that he did horrible things and not expect to be forgiven for what he has done.
Also I want to see Achillean become a Master-
Thalleous is not truly pure evil the way some make it out to be. But his prejudice is so ingrained in him that self-reflection is basically impossible in the confines of canon. If you were able to overcome those obstacles though?
I truly believe the voltaris will always see him as a murderer and a villain. But that doesn't make him incapable of change, it just makes him someone who has hurt too many people to fix what he's done.
And honestly that type of character needs to be seen in media more.
I really love how “Is it too late to apologise?” can be seen in one of 2 very different perspectives.
Silent Salt asking if Shadow Milk ever regretted spreading lies and chaos that would lead to the downfall of his land. Or for the murder of his old friend. For the destruction of absolutely everything he used to hold dear.
Shadow Milk asking if Silent Salt feels even an ounce of guilt for turning on his old friends by casting that Binding spell. Or for failing Solidarity by being nowhere in sight when he and the other Virtues are crumbling from the weight of their responsibilities.
The Gentle Sweetness to His World | Mafioso x Reader
(I love Mafioso sm. Not proofread, raw writing. Soz if it doesn't make sense, this is mostly going with the flow of the writing and feelings.)
Part 1?
Living in the world of his isn't easy, having plenty of enemies, getting their hands dirty, using any means necessary for those who owe him to repay their debt; sometimes requiring blood to spill. It wasn't pretty, never was. He's realized that a long time ago, moments when he had to fight to survive in the cruel place he was born in. While he lives a lavish life as a mafioso, easily having access to everything and having people at his beck and call, he still feels empty. As if something was missing.
Until he met you. You were just tending to your family's garden when you'd spotted him by the gate, assuming that he's the one your father was going to be speaking with. Most wouldn't even spare him a glance, let alone speak to them, given his circumstances and his position. He understands that. Why would anyone try to get close to him, a mob leader who's involved with all sorts of things, knowing fully well what he's delving into since he was young as a means to survive.
Either you were blissfully unaware of his stature or you were just trying to be nice, he couldn't tell when you gave him a smile before you continued with your daily life. He was lost, yet seemingly.. enthralled by you, somehow. It was stupid, really, to be reeled in by just a smile from a random stranger. For all he knows, you were probably trying to pull on the strings, to get on his favour, but that never was the case for you.
You were naïve in your way of thinking, looking through certain things in a rose-tinted glasses as you talk about how you wished the world never had to spill any blood, to live in harmony with one another. Yet you knew it'll only be too good to be true, the world being far too complex and dark for one to want such a change. Your father was an example of that — the leader of a mob group. He'd gotten his hands dirty to get to where you are now, to keep you alive, happy and well fed, spoiled even. You never liked it, hated it when it involves arguments, threats, deaths. But you relented, knowing that you wouldn't be able to experience the normal lives like everyone else does. The least you could do was to keep yourself occupied with the things you enjoy, ones that makes you happy despite your life being different than the rest.
You didn't know what you were getting into when you met him, enamored by his presence. He looked scary, yet somehow also, gentle? It was a surprising sight as well to see him keeping a white bunny by his side when you first saw him. Perhaps there's another side to him that he never lets anyone in the outside world knows. Either that, or you were only trying to see the good things in him just like you do so with everyone else.
You wonder, what sort of story would you hear from him, if you're able to have a conversation with him. What sort of person he truly is, what burden does he carry on his shoulders?; assuming he has a lot of responsibilities he shoulders on his own that no other knows of.
To him, you were a breath of fresh air; someone who’s able to live their life with innocence, purity, as if the darkest parts of the world never bothered you, as if the work your family is involved in never disturbed your peace. He’s seen you treat your attendant with genuine respect and gentleness as if they are one of your own. You live your life with all your heart, taking care of your environment and people around you with such care and love like it was something so easily given, as if it was all that you knew. Whilst it is admirable, it too, is a dangerous thing to do, given your family’s position. Seeing someone being so open about it has him drawn towards you unknowingly, evoking something deep within him he’s uncertain of.
One evening, you caught him by the garden, taking a rest on a bench as he took a smoke of his cigarette. You noticed the tense look on his face, his lips pressed into a thin, unyielding line, seeming as if something is bothering him. He heard the sound of her footsteps against the stone path, weaving through the garden with each light step, a gentle presence that belonged to her alone. He turned his head instinctively at the slightest of sound, a flicker of surprise in his eyes to see you moving towards him. You’d never sought him out, your only interactions being the brief acknowledgement of one another by the front door or the garden before he disappears to meet your father.
“Hi,” your greeting was soft, carrying a kind of warmth his world rarely knew. “You seem.. tense. Are you okay?” You asked, stopping in your tracks as you stood by the bench, keeping a little distance from him in case it causes him discomfort.
Perceptive as ever, you were. Nothing escapes those eyes of yours, and it caught him off guard as you asked a question he never thought anyone would. His gaze lingered on you, a long, heavy silence settling between you both as the gentle breeze of the wind swept through the garden, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming flowers and the distant rustle of leaves.
He didn't speak at first. Just watched you, as though he’s weighing whether your concern was genuine or if it’s just another game he hasn’t learned how to play. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he spoke at last, his voice low, roughened not with threat but with something more uncertain, unfamiliar. You offered a small, tentative smile as you glanced at the blooming flowers in the distance.
“I just.. Saw you out here.” You muttered softly with a shrug of your shoulders. “Thought you could use a little company.” Your words caused a flicker of something passing through his expression — surprise, perhaps, or something dangerously close to curiosity. He didn’t know you that well. Not yet, but it was enough to stir something unfamiliar within him.
His lips quirked into a half-smirk, his gaze didn’t leave her face as he uttered, “Not many would. It’s not a good habit to make, sweetheart.” There was no venom in his words, just a warning dressed in reluctant fondness. You quirked an eyebrow at him, giving a soft huff of laughter. You shifted your gaze towards him as you prompted a question.
“Why not, though?” Your question was soft but steady, like your curiosity to know the reasoning behind it was genuine. There was no challenge in your voice, no sharpness — just a quiet kind of curiosity he’s unfamiliar with, unsettling him more than it should have. He lets out a huff, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“Because people like me…” He trailed off, his eyes flickering to the ground for the briefest moment before finding yours again. “We don’t do well with softness. And the ones who offer it either get burned, or learn to bite first.” It wasn’t a warning meant to push you away or scare you off, no. If anything, it sounded more like a reluctant confession — as if he’s telling you something that no one else has ever bothered to ask. Or, he’s only trying to convince himself that anyone involved in the line of work similar to his could never experience softness like any other normal individuals would.
You held his gaze, fingers brushing against your palm, muttering, “Maybe I’m not afraid of a little fire.” Your words hold a subtle challenge to it, wanting to test the waters and see how he’d react to it. For the first time, genuine surprise flickered in his expression, his gaze lingering a second too long, like he didn’t expect to get that kind of answer from you and he wasn’t sure on what to do with it.
You didn’t give him a chance to retort back, your next words earning a pause. “Besides.. I don’t think you’re as bad as you want people to believe.” His expression faltered, not obvious enough for anyone else to notice, but you did. You caught it — the faintest hitch in his breath, the slight narrowing of his eyes like you’d struck a chord neither of you expected.
“You don’t know me.” He scoffed, voice quieter, words thick with something unspoken. “I don’t.” You admitted, another shrug of your shoulders, hands absently toying with the ends of your sleeves. “But I can tell when someone carries too much weight on their own.”
Another silence stretched between you, filled only by the sigh of the wind and the distant hum of the city beyond the garden walls. For a moment, he looked like he might speak, might let something slip by — but he broke away his gaze, glancing towards the dark horizon.
“Careful,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You keep seeing things like that in people, this place might eat you alive.” It sounded like a threat, yet there was no bite to it. As if he’s telling you to keep you safe, away from what the world, his world, specifically, and your father’s, could do to someone like you. As if, despite himself, some stubborn, unwilling part of him cared enough to warn you, even knowing that it wouldn’t be enough.
“Maybe.” You said softly, a faint smile appearing on your lips, the kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes but carried a quiet stubbornness all the same. “But someone’s gotta try, don’t they?”
He huffed out a breath, something between a scoff and a laugh, shaking his head as if you were foolish, like you didn’t know what you were asking for — and maybe you didn’t. There was a flicker of reluctance and wary drawn all at once. It wasn’t pity nor was it amusement. It was the look of a man who hadn’t expected anyone to still believe people like him could be anything but what they were. People like him didn’t deserve softness, never get to have them, because people like you couldn’t survive long around men like him.
“You’re going to regret that one day,” he muttered, though the warning felt thin, lacking the edge it should’ve had. Perhaps even sounding like a confession.
“Maybe.” You said, your voice gentle but sure as you looked at him with a gaze that’s steadier than he expected. Not naive, not reckless. Just quietly certain. “But if I do, it won’t be because of you.”
And that struck something in him. You saw it — the way his expression stilled for a heartbeat, like the words had cut too close, like you’ve reached somewhere deep within the place he hadn’t meant to let you near. He didn’t answer you right away, just watched you in the thick, breathless silence. Then, he gave a low, almost humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re trouble.”
But there was no heat in it, no longer a warning. He sounded almost resigned after hearing your words. You truly were trouble to him, cutting it too close to reaching deep within the depths of his heart, uncovering what lies beneath it. It’s as if you were starting to see past the blood on his hands, and he was starting to let you — and that might be the real danger of it all.
And then, because neither of you could trust what might come next, he stood up from where he was sitting, turning towards the garden path.
“Get some rest, sweetheart,” he murmured without looking back. “It’s getting late.”
And this time, he left — but not without glancing over his shoulder once, like he wasn’t sure if he’s hoping you’d already gone inside or stayed to watch him leave. Of course, you stayed, watching his figure gradually retreat into the distance, leaving your family’s estate. You clutch the front of your shirt as you stood there long after he left, the quiet of the night settling around you like a heavy blanket. The faint echo of his voice threading through your head.
“You’re going to regret that one day.”
Maybe. But something in you knew you wouldn’t. At least not for this.
…
He walked the path back towards his car, the glow of the lanterns scattered by painting the stone path in uneven light. The cigarette in his hand had burned down to nothing, and he dropped it with a flick of his fingers, grinding the ember out beneath his heels as he walked.
It was stupid, reckless even, he told himself. It was a huge mistake to let the conversation go as far as it had. He wasn’t supposed to get attached, to not linger in the softness you offer — he shouldn’t. It’d only risk you even further, bringing you into the dangerous world he has lived in for years. And yet, your voice lingered.
“Maybe. But if I do, it won’t be because of you.”
Trouble. That’s what you are — trouble in soft skin and bright eyes, in careful words that landed harder than any bullet. And yet, as he reached the gates of the estate, Mafioso hesitated. Just a second, one glance over his shoulder, and the empty stretch of the garden felt heavier than it should have.
Rip. I have the third installation of my purelily drawing waiting to be finished or something, but like...I don't know what to do with the background :p
In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 19
<<<Previous Next>>>
You knew her well enough to know that was a lie. And for some reason, that made you uneasy.
You narrowed your eyes. “No, seriously. What?” Chai Latte Cookie only sipped her tea, all too pleased with herself, but Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie had no such patience for theatrics.
With an exasperated sigh, he pulled a small notebook from his pocket, flipping through the pages with practiced ease. “Alright,” he muttered, eyes scanning his own notes, “since you’re so curious, let’s see…”
Your stomach twisted. “Oh, for the love of-....Hazelnut, you did not take notes” But he had. Of course, he had.
With a smug expression, he slid the notebook across the table toward you. “Here. Read it yourself.”
Chai Latte Cookie leaned in, grinning like a cat who had cornered a particularly amusing mouse. “Oh, I love when he does this.” You hesitated, then, with no small amount of trepidation, picked up the notebook. The notes were surprisingly neat, brief, to the point, and, unfortunately, accurate.
Earl Grey, the ever-dutiful guardian, intercepts before Chai can go too far. Protective streak? Expected.
Subject (that’s you, genius) responds with visible embarrassment. Likely unsure how to process attention.
Sage of Truth remains silent but watching. Keyword: Watching.
Tension noted. Sage’s hands flexed once but did not act. (Self-restraint?)
Chai enjoying this far too much. Further study needed.
You groaned, letting the notebook fall flat onto the table. “This is ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Chai Latte Cookie asked sweetly. “Yes!”
You pointed at Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie. “This isn’t scientific”
He scoffed. “It’s observational.”
“And biased.” Earl Grey Cookie, who had been sipping his tea in relative silence, finally sighed, setting his cup down with quiet finality.
“Enough,” he murmured, reaching out and perhaps mercifully flipping the notebook shut. His gaze, steady and refined as always, settled on you with something gentler than scrutiny, yet no less perceptive. “You don’t have to entertain them if you don’t want to.”
You exhaled sharply. “Thank you.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie merely leaned his chin into his palm, watching the exchange with interest. “So you’re not denying the tension?”
Earl Grey Cookie shot him a look that could have curdled fresh cream. “You are insufferable.”
Chai Latte Cookie giggled, tucking her hands beneath her chin. “But we’re right, aren’t we?”
Earl Grey Cookie sighed through his nose, rubbing his temple. “You’re never satisfied until you’ve exhausted every possible avenue of speculation.”
You slumped forward, head in your hands. “This is the worst dinner I’ve ever had.”
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie hummed. “And yet, you still haven’t denied it.”
Chai Latte Cookie clapped her hands together, delighted. “Fascinating!” You groaned. Earl Grey Cookie, resigned, simply picked up his tea again.
Earl Grey Cookie had, for the most part, played the role of the patient observer offering you small mercies when the others got too carried away. But even he, ever composed, was not entirely above a well-placed jab. With an air of nonchalance, he reached for Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s notebook, flipping it open with a deliberate slowness that sent a shiver of unease down your spine.
You watched as his sharp eyes scanned the notes, his fingers smoothing the edges of the pages. “Hmm.” He tilted his head slightly, considering. Then, to your horror, he pulled out his own pen.
“Oh, come on!” you groaned. Earl Grey Cookie said nothing as he made a single, measured annotation beneath Hazelnut’s last point. Then he slid the notebook back with a satisfied nod, lifting his teacup once more. Chai Latte Cookie immediately leaned in to read what he had written, and when she did, her laughter rang through the dining hall like a chime of pure amusement. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s brows lifted in surprise, and even he let out a small huff of amusement. Dreading what fresh humiliation awaited you, you snatched the notebook back. Your eyes darted to Earl Grey’s addition.
Earl Grey, the ever-dutiful guardian, intercepts before Chai can go too far. Protective streak? Expected.
Subject (that’s you, genius) responds with visible embarrassment. Likely unsure how to process attention.
Sage of Truth remains silent but watching. Keyword: Watching. (Not needed)
Tension noted. Sage’s hands flexed once but did not act. (Self-restraint?) (Biased)
Chai enjoying this far too much. Further study needed.
(New entry:) Subject is either alarmingly oblivious or in deep denial. Either way, outcome remains the same: fascinatingly easy to fluster.
Your face burned. “Earl Grey!” Earl Grey Cookie merely sipped his tea, entirely unbothered. “Merely an observation.”
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie chuckled, tapping his pen against the table. “Not bad, not bad. I might have to start letting you proofread my work. Though next time consult with me before desecrating my work”
Chai Latte Cookie, still giggling, nudged you playfully. “Oh, come on, don’t pout. It’s not wrong, you know.”
You huffed, slamming the notebook shut. “I’m finding new friends.”
“No, you’re not,” Chai Latte Cookie said sweetly, resting her chin on your shoulder. “You love us.” You did. Unfortunately.
Earl Grey Cookie set down his teacup with quiet precision. “Regardless, we should move on before our subject becomes too agitated,” he mused, though there was the faintest trace of amusement in his voice.
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie hummed in agreement, slipping the notebook back into his coat. “For now,” he said. “But this is definitely going in the next round of observations.”
Chai Latte Cookie eventually let the teasing slip away, resting her chin in her palm as she studied you with something softer in her gaze. The laughter had settled, leaving only the quiet murmur of the dining hall and the rhythmic clinking of teacups around you.
“But,” she mused, her voice carrying a thoughtful lilt, “how would it even work?” You blinked, mid-sip of your drink.
“How would what work?” She gave you a knowing look, as if you’d walked straight into a trap. “You and him.” Heat bloomed at the back of your neck, and Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a low chuckle.
“They didn’t even deny it,” he noted.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shot back quickly, perhaps too quickly. But Chai Latte Cookie didn’t press the obvious. Instead, she tapped a thoughtful finger against her cup, eyes drifting elsewhere.
“He’s immortal, right?” she asked. “Soul Jams grant that kind of longevity. And everyone knows Shadow Milk Cookie has one.”
Earl Grey Cookie, who had been watching in silence, finally spoke, his tone measured. “Yes. It is well-documented that Soul Jams bestow great power and for those like the Sage of Truth, an existence that far surpasses our own.”
He exhaled quietly, setting his cup down. “But that kind of longevity is not one easily shared.” The weight of his words settled heavily over the table.
Chai Latte Cookie, for all her playfulness, was not immune to solemnity. She lowered her gaze slightly, tracing the rim of her cup. “I just wonder what would happen,” she murmured. “If you did…I mean, hypothetically.”
You swallowed thickly, unsure how to answer. Because you hadn’t thought about it…hadn’t let yourself think about it. Shadow Milk Cookie existed in a different span of time. He had seen years stretch before him like an ever-expanding horizon, where you… You were a fleeting thing in comparison.
“Some truths,” Earl Grey Cookie said quietly, “are better left unspoken.” For once, Chai Latte Cookie didn’t challenge him. And for once, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer.
You tilted your head, a thoughtful hum escaping your lips. “You two do think alike,” you admitted, tapping your fingers against the table.
“But honestly? I prefer bantering with you.” Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, raised a brow. “Oh?”
You leaned forward slightly, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Because you always let me win.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a low chuckle, while Chai Latte Cookie pressed a hand to her chest in mock shock.
“Unbelievable,” she gasped. “The great Earl Grey Cookie, yielding? What a scandal.”
Earl Grey Cookie sighed, swirling his tea with a practiced elegance. “Yielding implies defeat. I simply find it… inefficient to argue a matter that does not require my full effort.”
“That’s just a fancy way of saying you let me win,” you shot back, grinning. He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I give you the illusion of victory.”
Chai Latte Cookie snickered. “See, that’s the difference,” she mused, tapping a finger against her chin. “The Sage of Truth would never do that. He’d just dismantle you with a smile and call it a learning experience.”
You groaned, slumping against the table. “Exactly! Shadow Milk never lets me win. Ever. He just…he just smiles while I struggle and then nudges me toward the answer like I’m a lost little duckling.”
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “And yet, you keep going back.” You shot him a glare, but he only shrugged, jotting something down in his notes.
Chai Latte Cookie’s gaze flickered between you and the paper, her lips curling in amusement. “Ohhh, now I have to see what you’re writing.”
Earl Grey Cookie, watching it all unfold, allowed himself the smallest smirk. “So, to summarize,” he mused, setting his cup down with deliberate precision, “you favor our exchanges because I provide you with a comfortable illusion of victory?”
You pointed at him. “Exactly.”
“And yet,” he continued smoothly, “you return to the Sage of Truth, knowing full well he will never afford you the same courtesy?” You hesitated, your mouth opening then closing.
Chai Latte Cookie, ever the voice of mischief and reason, leaned forward, propping her chin on her palm. “Alright, alright, let’s get one thing very clear,” she said, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Earl Grey and the Sage of Truth? Completely different. The only real similarity is how they talk formal, refined, like they were both born with a teacup in one hand and a philosophy book in the other.”
Earl Grey Cookie scoffed, adjusting his glasses. “I should hope my conversational skills amount to more than mere formalities.”
Chai Latte Cookie waved him off. “No, no, you both have that way of speaking where it sounds like you’re always making some grand declaration. But personality-wise?” She gestured between you and Earl Grey Cookie. “You like this one because he lets you win. He likes debates, but if things get too drawn out, he gets bored and moves on to something else-”
Earl Grey Cookie exhaled sharply. “That is a mischaracterization.”
“It’s true!” Chai Latte shot back, grinning. “You have opinions, and you like having them. The Sage? He doesn’t really do opinions just truths. He presents facts, lets people try to prove him wrong, then gently shatters their arguments like he’s doing them a favor.”
You winced. “That… sounds about right.”
“Exactly! Meanwhile, Earl Grey loves having a stance. He argues because it’s fun for him, not because he thinks it’s his solemn duty to educate the world. The Sage of Truth? He’s like, Oh, you poor thing, let me help you see the light, and you can’t even be mad because he’s so polite about it.”
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nodded sagely. “One debates for the thrill, the other debates because he must.”
You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “Why does this all sound so accurate?”
“Because it is accurate,” Chai Latte Cookie said with a smug smile. “Face it you don’t like them for the same reasons. You like this one” she jabbed a finger at Earl Grey Cookie, “because he’s fun, sociable, and knows when to give up the fight. You like him” she made a vague gesture toward where Shadow Milk Cookie wasn’t, “because he never gives up.”
There was a beat of silence. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie tapped his pen against his notes. “Interesting.”
Earl Grey Cookie let out a tired sigh. “I do not appreciate being reduced to a mere source of entertainment.”
“Oh, lighten up, you are entertaining,” Chai Latte Cookie teased, taking a sip of her drink. “But you also have an actual sense of humor, which definitely sets you apart. The Sage of Truth is many things, but he’s not cracking jokes over tea.”
Earl Grey Cookie gave her a look, unimpressed. “I do not ‘crack jokes over tea.’”
Chai Latte Cookie smirked. “See? You just did. He wouldn’t.”
You sighed, shaking your head. “So what you’re saying is…?”
Chai Latte Cookie grinned. “That you have very different reasons for keeping both of them around.”
You huffed, crossing your arms. “Great. Love that for me.”
Earl Grey Cookie, ever refined, simply took a measured sip of his tea. “I, however, am deeply honored by the distinction.”
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie chuckled under his breath. “Sure you are.”
Earl Grey Cookie, ever the informed one, casually refilled his tea as he spoke, his voice smooth but undeniably engaged. “Have you guys heard about the Spire of Knowledge?” he asked, glancing at you over the rim of his cup.
You blinked at him, caught off guard. “The… what?” “The Spire of Knowledge,” he repeated, setting his cup down with a soft clink. “A research facility being constructed on Beast-Yeast. Once completed, it will allow the Sage of Truth to teach and conduct research on a far grander scale than the Academy can provide.”
You stared at him, brain stalling. “Wait what?”
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie hummed, flipping through his notes. “You really haven’t heard? The Sage’s title is changing at the end of the semester. He’ll still go by Sage of Truth, but formally, he’ll be the Fount of Knowledge moving forward.”
You opened your mouth, closed it, then turned a slow, incredulous stare back to Earl Grey Cookie. “And you just knew this?”
Earl Grey Cookie smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Of course.”
“I-how? When? Why?” You gestured wildly. With practiced ease, Earl Grey Cookie reached into his satchel and produced a neatly folded newspaper. He slid it across the table to you, and sure enough, right on the front page:
THE SPIRE OF KNOWLEDGE: A New Era of Scholarship In honor of the Sage of Truth’s contributions to academia, the Spire of Knowledge is currently under construction on Beast-Yeast. The facility will serve as a pinnacle of research, allowing the soon-to-be titled Fount of Knowledge to continue his teachings beyond the limits of Blueberry Yogurt Academy…
You skimmed the article in disbelief.
“The Academy is great,” Earl Grey Cookie said smoothly, watching as your eyes darted over the text, “but even it has its limits. This new facility will allow him to spread his knowledge even further research, lectures, possibly even intercontinental academic exchange.”
Your fingers tightened around the paper as something unsettled curled in your chest. “So… he’s leaving?”
Earl Grey Cookie raised an eyebrow. “Not exactly. He’ll still be here when needed, but his focus will shift. His influence will reach much farther.”
Chai Latte Cookie, unusually quiet, studied your expression. Then, with a too-knowing lilt, she murmured, “You look troubled.”
You hastily shook your head. “No, I just didn't know. I didn’t expect this.”
Earl Grey Cookie leaned back, regarding you thoughtfully. “I suppose it is quite the shift. You’re used to seeing him here, contained within these walls. Now he’ll be something… more.”
Something more. Something beyond reach. You swallowed. “I just thought… he was always going to be here.”
Earl Grey Cookie exhaled, slow and measured. “I suppose some truths really are best left unspoken.”
You weren’t sure if he was talking about the Sage of Truth’s departure… or something else entirely. You stared down at the article, your grip on the paper tightening slightly. Shouldn’t he have told me? The thought sat heavy in your mind, pressing uncomfortably against the edges of your understanding. Would this mean no more tutoring next semester? No more long-winded explanations spoken with infinite patience, no more sharp, guiding questions meant to lead you toward the truth?
You looked up at Earl Grey Cookie, searching for some kind of answer. “But… wouldn’t he have told me?” you asked, voice quieter than intended.
Chai Latte Cookie tilted her head, considering you. “Maybe,” she said, thoughtful. “But maybe not. You know how he is, he doesn't see knowledge as something owned. He might not have realized you didn’t already know.”
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nodded, flipping to another page of his notes. “To be fair, this has been talked about for months. It’s not exactly a secret.”
“But it’s not our fault you don’t keep up with the papers,” Chai Latte Cookie added, resting her chin on her hand. “If you’d read them, you’d have known sooner.”
You sighed, rubbing your temples. It wasn’t their fault, no but it wasn’t his fault either, was it? And yet, there was a nagging, irrational sting in your chest. It wasn’t that he owed you an explanation, but… Your fingers curled slightly against the newspaper. Earl Grey Cookie watched you for a long moment, his usual smirk tempered into something quieter. “You’re wondering if this means no more tutoring next semester,” he observed.
Your breath caught slightly. You hadn’t said it aloud, but of course he knew. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Chai Latte Cookie’s expression softened. “We don’t really know what’s going to happen. He might still be around for some lectures, but full-time tutoring? Maybe not.” Maybe not.
It was a small thing, in the grand scheme of everything the Sage of Truth, or rather, the Fount of Knowledge, was expanding his reach beyond the Academy. It was an honor. It was a step forward for academia itself. And yet, for reasons you couldn’t quite put into words, it didn’t feel like a victory.
You forced a smile, setting the paper down with what you hoped was nonchalance. “It’s cool,” you said, waving a hand. “I mean, it’s just tutoring for this semester. It’s not like it was anything grand. He only started tutoring me because of chance, anyway.” You knew this.
You knew this. There was no reason for the feeling pressing at your ribs, no reason for the slight weight in your stomach. It wasn’t like he chose to guide you from the start he had simply been there, in the right moment, with the right words. Earl Grey Cookie regarded you carefully, his eyes sharp in a way that made you feel just a bit too exposed. He hummed, setting his teacup down with a quiet clink. “You shouldn’t worry about it too much,” he said at last, his voice measured. “He’s still the same person to you. I doubt this would change anything.”
You blinked at him. “You doubt?”
“I don’t deal in absolutes,” he said smoothly, smirking just a little. “That’s more his thing, don’t you think?”
Chai Latte Cookie let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “He has a point.”
Earl Grey Cookie gestured toward the paper. “Take a closer look. It’s not just him moving over students will get a chance to conduct research at the Spire. And quite a few professors will be relocating to teach there.”
That gave you pause. You reached for the paper again, scanning further down the article. Sure enough, nestled among the lofty praises and grand declarations about the Sage, no, the Fount of Knowledge was a section detailing student opportunities.
“Wait…” You frowned, eyes narrowing as you read. “So… some students will be going?”
“Not just some,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie noted, peering over your shoulder. “It says applications will open for research positions. Sounds like they want promising scholars to join the expansion.”
Chai Latte Cookie tapped a finger against the table, considering. “It is a big deal. It means more resources, more opportunities… and, well, it means he’s not disappearing off the face of the earth.”
She tilted her head, eyes flickering toward you knowingly. “Unless, you know, you thought he was?”
You stiffened. “What? No. Obviously not.”
“Obviously,” she echoed, amused. You refused to meet her gaze, focusing instead on the text before you. The Spire of Knowledge. A place for learning, for discovery a place where the Sage of Truth would no longer just be a mentor to a handful of students, but a guide to countless scholars across the land.
A place where he would be needed. A place where he would be far. You swallowed, smoothing the paper out with steady hands. “Well,” you said lightly, “it’s not like I was planning on being his student forever anyway.”
Earl Grey Cookie chuckled, but there was something softer in his expression, something almost unreadable. “No,” he murmured, “I suppose not.”
Your fingers tightened slightly on the paper as you glanced between them. “How long have you guys known about this?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie shrugged, ever casual. “Months.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Months?”
Earl Grey Cookie nodded, picking up his teacup again. “Months.”
“That could mean anything.” You exhaled, shaking your head. “Two months? Six months?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “Somewhere in that range.” You groaned, leaning back in your chair. “Unbelievable. And you just what? Never thought to bring it up?”
Chai Latte Cookie nudged your arm with her elbow, smiling just a little. “To be fair, it’s been in the papers for a while now. It’s not like they were hiding it.”
“That doesn’t mean they weren’t withholding it.” You shot a look at Earl Grey Cookie, who merely raised an eyebrow. “Would you have preferred I announced it dramatically over afternoon tea?” he asked dryly. “Perhaps sent a formal letter? Dearest friend, I regret to inform you that the Sage of Truth will be moving on to a grander stage-”
You groaned again, burying your face in your hands as Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snickered. “Come on, you had to have known something was up,” he said. “The Academy’s been buzzing about it for weeks.”
“Yeah, well, excuse me for not keeping up with every bit of news.” You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I just… figured if it was important, he would have said something.” Chai Latte Cookie gave you a look, something caught between sympathy and amusement. “He might not have known you didn’t know,” she pointed out. “And it’s not his fault or ours, really.”
You bit your lip, looking down at the article again. You supposed that was fair. You weren’t exactly the most up-to-date person when it came to campus news. But still… “He could have mentioned it,” you muttered. Earl Grey Cookie regarded you over the rim of his cup. “Maybe he didn’t think it would change anything,” he said simply. You stilled, your fingers curling slightly around the edges of the paper. Maybe.
But somehow, that didn’t make it feel any less strange. You poked at your food, appetite dwindling despite the warmth of the meal in front of you. The conversation had moved on Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie and Earl Grey Cookie now caught in some debate over a research paper, their voices a steady hum in the background but you remained quiet, thoughts tangled like ink-stained pages left out in the rain. The Sage of Truth no, the Fount of Knowledge was leaving.
Not in the way most professors left, retiring or moving to another institution, but stepping into something grander, something beyond the Academy’s familiar walls. A whole spire dedicated to him, to his teachings, to the pursuit of truth itself. You should have expected something like this. A scholar of his caliber was always meant for something greater. So why did it feel like something was slipping through your fingers? A sharp pinch at your cheek snapped you out of your thoughts. “Ow-hey!”
You jerked back, swatting at Chai Latte Cookie’s hand as she grinned at you. “You’re pouting,” she teased, propping her chin on her palm. “It’s cute, but tragic.”
“I am not pouting.”
“Mm, sure,” she hummed, clearly unconvinced. You frowned, rubbing your cheek. “What was that for?”
Chai Latte Cookie’s expression softened, just a touch. “Because you looked like you were about to disappear into your own head forever,” she said, voice quieter now. “And because” she reached over again, but this time, just to gently pat your arm, “he’s done a lot for you, you know.”
You swallowed, staring down at your plate. “I know.”
“Do you?” She tilted her head. “Or are you just saying that so I’ll stop bothering you?” You sighed, shoving a bite of food into your mouth to buy yourself time. But she waited, patient and knowing, watching you with that same fondness she always had.
He had done a lot for you. Far more than just answering your questions and guiding you through lessons you barely grasped. He had been patient when others would have given up. He had given you knowledge, yes, but more than that he had given you his time. And soon, that time would run out. “…I know,” you said again, quieter this time. “I just didn’t think it would be over so soon.”
Chai Latte Cookie didn’t tease this time. Instead, she smiled, warm and understanding. “Then maybe,” she said, nudging your arm, “you should tell him that.” You didn’t answer her not with words, anyway. Instead, you let out a quiet breath and leaned against her, resting your head on her shoulder. Chai Latte Cookie blinked in surprise before letting out a soft laugh, wrapping a warm, familiar arm around you.
“Oh? No witty remark? No ‘Chai, you’re being ridiculous’?” she teased, though her voice held nothing but fondness. “Guess I must’ve really gotten to you this time.”
You sighed, not bothering to respond, and instead let yourself sink into the comfort of her embrace. It was a feeling long ingrained in you, something that brought back memories of late nights spent whispering under shared blankets, of sneaking sweets from the kitchen and giggling over secrets too silly to be called secrets. She had always been like this warm, reassuring, a presence that could soften even the worst of days. She hummed, gently running her fingers through your hair like she used to when you were younger, back when the world seemed just a little simpler.
"You always do this when you don’t wanna talk about something," she murmured. "You’ll pretend it’s fine, keep it all in, and then let me be the one to carry it for a while." You swallowed, but didn’t pull away.
"That’s alright," she said, squeezing your shoulder. "You don’t have to say anything. Not yet." You felt her chin rest lightly against your head, her embrace firm but gentle. The quiet hum of the dining hall faded into the background, replaced by the steady, familiar rhythm of her breathing. For now, you let yourself stay there, safe in the warmth of her presence.
The warmth of Chai Latte Cookie’s presence did little to stop the gnawing thoughts at the back of your mind. You wanted to freeze this moment, to let it stretch endlessly, to bask in the easy comfort of friendship where nothing had to be said, where you could pretend for just a little while longer that things were unchanged. But reality had a cruel way of creeping back in. A sudden jolt of realization shot through you, a sharp pang of dread cutting through the haze of your thoughts. Your notebook.
You sat up abruptly, nearly knocking Chai Latte Cookie’s arm away in your haste. “Oh no.” Chai Latte Cookie blinked at you, surprised. “What?”
“My notebook.” You patted your pockets, as if it would somehow magically appear. “I-I forgot my notebook. I don’t have it. I don’t have it.”
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie looked up from his conversation with Earl Grey Cookie, raising an eyebrow. “Again?” Earl Grey Cookie let out a low hum of amusement. “Perhaps we should start attaching it to you with a charm.” You barely spared them a glare as you pushed back from the table. “I need to go get it.” Chai Latte Cookie sat up as well, concern flickering across her face. “Wait, you mean from his office?”
Your stomach twisted. “Where else?” She hesitated, clearly debating whether to stop you. But then she simply sighed, her expression shifting into something more knowing. “You want me to come with you?”
You shook your head, already stepping away from the table. “No, I’ll be fine. I just, I just need to grab it.”
You left the dining hall in a rush, barely hearing Chai Latte Cookie’s call of, “Try not to get too lost in your own head!” behind you.
Your feet carried you quickly through the Academy halls, weaving past the lingering students still milling about after dinner, your mind solely focused on one thing. Your notebook. Of course, of course, you had forgotten it. With everything else weighing on your mind, the thought of gathering all your notes before leaving his office had completely slipped past you. Now, you’d have to march right back there, face whatever knowing look he would surely give you, and retrieve it like an absentminded fool. The halls of the Scholar’s Wing were quieter now, the air cooler as night settled over the Academy. The glow of enchanted sconces flickered along the walls, casting long shadows against the towering shelves. Your steps slowed the closer you got to his office, the light beneath his door unmistakable. He was still inside. You hesitated just a moment before knocking. A brief pause, then “Enter.” You pushed open the door, stepping into the warm, dimly lit space. His office was much the same as it always was papers stacked in meticulous disarray, scrolls floating idly at his side, the scent of parchment and candle wax lingering in the air. Shadow Milk Cookie sat at his desk, quill in hand, his golden eyes flicking toward you as you entered. “You knocked.”
You faltered. “…Yeah?” His lips curled slightly. “Interesting.”
You rubbed the back of your neck, suddenly feeling a little foolish. “I, uh, forgot my notebook.”
Without a word, he reached to the side of his desk and plucked it from a neatly stacked pile of parchment, setting it before him. Your stomach twisted at the sight of it; he had kept it within reach. You stepped forward quickly, reaching for it, but his fingers lingered against the cover, holding it in place for just a second longer than necessary.
Then, softly "Are you troubled?"
You swallowed, gripping the notebook tighter. “Well…” Your voice caught, uncertain. You had rushed here with the sole intent of retrieving your notes, of brushing past whatever lingering thoughts had been following you all evening.
And yet, standing here, with his gaze steady on you, the words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them. “Are you really leaving so soon?”
Shadow Milk Cookie’s expression remained unreadable. “You have read the articles.”
You nodded. “So… you are.”
“Change is inevitable.” Your fingers tightened around your notebook. “That’s not an answer.” He tilted his head slightly, amused. “It is an accurate answer.”
You huffed. “Then tell me the truth.”
His gaze flickered with something unreadable. “That is my nature, is it not?”
You frowned, exhaling sharply. “Then tell me…why didn’t you say anything?”
There was a pause. Then, finally, he answered. “I assumed you knew. And if you hadn’t known I did it because you were not ready to hear it.” Your breath hitched. “You already knew it would happen,” he continued, voice even. “You knew from the start that my time as your tutor was temporary. And yet, when confronted with the reality of it, you hesitate.” He studied you carefully. “And so, I waited.”
Your heart twisted at his words. You had known, hadn’t you? You had always known. From the moment you sat in this very office for the first time, from the first lesson, the first debate, the first time his voice unraveled the tangled mess of your thoughts with nothing but patience and sharp intellect. You knew that his time here, with you, was always meant to be fleeting. But knowing didn’t make it any easier. “…It’s just tutoring,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. “It’s not like it was anything grand.”
Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled, a soft, knowing sound. “Is that what you believe?” You hesitated. He was watching you again, his gaze unwavering. The weight of his attention was suffocating in its gentleness, in the way he allowed you the space to say what you would but refused to let you lie to yourself. Then, his voice softened. “You have never been a mere student to me.” Your heart stopped. Your grip on your notebook tightened, knuckles white. Your breath stalled in your throat as his words settled between you, heavy with meaning you couldn’t name, couldn’t process, couldn’t even begin to understand. You looked at him, and he held your gaze, steady and certain, unflinching. And in that moment, the truth whatever it was felt closer than it ever had before.
Your fingers curled against the worn spine of your notebook, grounding you against the weight pressing on your chest. You had come back under the guise of retrieving it, but now that you were here, standing before him, you knew that wasn’t the only thing you needed. Shadow Milk Cookie watched you carefully from behind his desk, eyes steady, waiting. He always waited.
You swallowed. “What are we?” His expression did not change, but the silence between you did. His fingers tapped against the wood of his desk once, a slow, deliberate movement. “You tell me,” he said, voice even, unreadable. Your throat tightened. “That’s not fair.”
“It is the fairest question I can ask,” he countered smoothly. You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “You always do this.” His brow arched slightly. “Do what?”
“Turn my own questions back on me.” You took a step closer, gripping your notebook tightly. “But I’m not playing this game with you right now. I just-” You hesitated, breath unsteady. “I need to know.”
He tilted his head ever so slightly, gaze unwavering. “Then ask plainly.”
Your fingers tightened. “What are we?” A beat. Shadow Milk Cookie leaned forward slightly, resting his hands atop his desk.
The glow of the enchanted lanterns cast long shadows across his features, making him seem even more untouchable than he already was. “Bound by intellect,” he mused, “shaped by shared time. You challenge me. I challenge you. And yet, you are here, asking a question you already know the answer to.”
Your heart pounded against your ribs. “I don’t know the answer.” A flicker of something unreadable passed through his expression. “Then perhaps you are not ready to hear it.”
You inhaled sharply, frustration bubbling beneath your skin. “You always do this,” you muttered, shaking your head. “You never just say things. It’s always about whether or not I can figure it out myself.”
Shadow Milk Cookie did not deny it. You pressed forward before your own fear could stop you. “Would you really make me wait a century?” His expression remained composed, but something in his gaze shifted. His fingers stilled against the desk. “You are asking a question I cannot answer.”
“Why?”
“Because the truth is not always something we are meant to face.”
Your throat tightened. “Then lie to me.”
A soft exhale. “You would not believe a lie from me.”
You swallowed hard, feeling like you were standing on the edge of something. “So what are we, then?”
Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you carefully, his gaze unwavering. “What would you like us to be?” Your breath hitched.
A part of you had expected him to brush you off, to redirect the conversation, to keep you at arm’s length like he always did. But this, this was an answer that left the weight of choice in your hands. It terrified you. Your fingers curled against the fabric of your sleeves. “…I don’t know.”
He exhaled, slow and measured, but he did not press you. “You do,” he said quietly, “but you are not ready to say it.”
You let out a quiet, breathless laugh, something caught between exasperation and resignation. “And you’re not ready to hear it.”
Shadow Milk Cookie was silent for a long moment before murmuring, “Perhaps.” The air between you felt heavy, thick with things left unsaid.
You took a slow step back, heart still hammering in your chest. “I should go.”
He did not stop you. As you turned toward the door, his voice reached you softer, quieter. “Goodnight, scholar.” You hesitated, gripping your notebook tightly, before replying, “Goodnight, Shadow Milk.”
And then you left, the weight of his words and your own following you into the dimly lit halls. The night stretched long and quiet, the distant hum of the Academy muffled by the walls of your dorm. You sat on the edge of your bed, your fingers resting lightly against your notebook. You had returned for it, exchanged words that danced around the truth, yet neither of you had dared to name it.
What are we? You had asked. And Shadow Milk Cookie, the Sage of Truth, the Fount of Knowledge had not given you an answer. Not because he didn’t know. But because, for once, the truth was something he feared.
You could see it now, in the way his eyes flickered when your words lingered too long, when your questions pressed too close to something neither of you were ready to unravel. He was waiting, but he was also hesitant, as if what lay beyond your next words was a truth he wasn’t certain he could bear.
You exhaled, shutting your eyes. He is immortal. You are not. That was the truth neither of you had spoken, the one that lingered between you like ink yet to dry. If you said it aloud, if you placed that truth before him, then what? Would he deny it? Would he let you believe that the weight of time wouldn’t shift between you? Would he let himself just this once be selfish? You swallowed against the tightness in your throat. I’ll ask again tomorrow. Because tomorrow, you would be brave enough. Brave enough to ask, and brave enough to listen. Even if you weren’t sure you were ready for the answer.
The next day came sooner than anticipated. You had barely closed your eyes before the morning light spilled through your dorm window, tearing you from restless dreams that blurred with half-formed thoughts you weren’t yet ready to face. Still, you moved through the motions dressing, gathering your things, forcing yourself into the familiar rhythm of the morning as if it could steady you. Chai Latte Cookie was already waiting in the dining hall when you arrived, her sharp eyes flicking up from her tea the moment she caught sight of you. “You look like you barely slept,” she noted, tilting her head as she studied you. You huffed, grabbing a tray and scanning the options. “Didn’t feel like it either.” Her gaze lingered, but she didn’t push. Instead, she watched as you reached for something light and quick simple toast, a bit of fruit, and tea that was far too bitter for your liking. No honey-drizzled waffles again. A shame. You sighed, nudging the tray forward. “It’s a tragedy, really.”
Chai Latte Cookie let out a soft laugh. “You say that every time they’re not here.”
“Because I suffer every time they’re not here.” You settled into the seat across from her, though your appetite was nonexistent. Chai Latte Cookie sipped at her tea, watching you with something unreadable in her eyes before setting her cup down with a quiet clink.
“So?” she prompted.
You blinked. “So what?”
Her brows lifted, unimpressed. “You really think I’m going to let you dodge this?” You exhaled, poking at your toast with disinterest. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, please.” Chai Latte Cookie leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. “You went back for your notebook last night, didn’t you?”
Your fingers curled slightly against the table. “…Yeah.”
“And?” You hesitated. And what? That was the problem, wasn’t it? There had been no dramatic resolution, no grand declaration. Just lingering silence and words that neither of you could quite say. You swallowed, shaking your head. “Nothing. We talked.”
Chai Latte Cookie’s lips quirked. “Just talked?” You shot her a glare. “Yes.” She hummed thoughtfully. “And?”
“And nothing.” You took a sip of your tea, grimacing at the bitterness. “I just” You exhaled sharply, setting the cup down.
“I asked him what we were.” That caught her attention. Her eyes sharpened, the teasing edge of her smile fading ever so slightly.
“And?”
Your stomach twisted. “And he didn’t answer.” Chai Latte Cookie blinked once. Then twice. “…Oh.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “Yeah. Oh.”
A beat of silence passed between you. “Do you think he knows?” she asked, voice careful.
You hesitated. “Of course, he knows. He’s him.” Chai Latte Cookie studied you for a long moment before leaning back, her expression unreadable.
“Then maybe the real question is… does he want to?” Your breath stilled. She didn’t elaborate, didn’t press further, but the words hung heavy between you. You had no answer. So instead, you took another sip of your awful tea, swallowing the bitterness down with it. You exhaled, staring into the depths of your tea as if it could give you some sort of answer. It didn’t. Nothing could, really not until you finally faced it. And for the first time, you weren’t going to run from it.
“I’m ready,” you murmured, voice steadier than you expected. Chai Latte Cookie blinked, her cup hovering just before her lips. “Ready?”
You nodded, gripping your tea a little tighter. “To face it. To face him.”
Just as the words left your mouth, a new voice cut through the moment. “Ready for what?” You tensed slightly, glancing up just in time to see Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie and Earl Grey Cookie sliding into their seats, their gazes flickering between you and Chai Latte Cookie with interest.
Earl Grey Cookie arched a brow, clearly intrigued. “Are we interrupting something?”
“Yes,” you muttered. “No,” Chai Latte Cookie said at the same time, grinning. “You’re just in time.”
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie leaned forward, smirking. “Oh, this has to be good.” You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Do I have to?”
Chai Latte Cookie gave you a pointed look. “You just said you were ready to face it.”
“That was for him.”
Earl Grey Cookie hummed, adjusting his glasses. “Interesting. Him, you say.”
You inhaled deeply, willing yourself to push past the embarrassment creeping up your spine. “Fine. But don’t say anything until I’m finished, alright?”
No promises. You sighed, looking down at your tea before setting it aside. “I went back to his office last night.”
Earl Grey Cookie let out a quiet hum of acknowledgment, but otherwise, they all waited for you to continue. “I told him I forgot my notebook which I did, by the way but we ended up talking.”
You hesitated before correcting yourself. “Or… I asked questions, and he answered just enough to drive me insane.”
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie chuckled. “Sounds about right.” You shot him a glare before continuing. “I asked if he really meant what he said that whole thing about waiting a century.”
“And?” Chai Latte Cookie prompted, leaning forward. You exhaled sharply. “And he wouldn’t answer.”
Earl Grey Cookie tilted his head. “Not at all?”
You shook your head. “He avoided it. Kept twisting my words back at me, like he always does. I asked what we were, and he just…he didn’t answer.”
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a low whistle. “Oof. That’s rough, buddy.” You slumped back in your chair. “Yeah. Tell me about it.”
Chai Latte Cookie drummed her fingers against the table, watching you carefully. “And what do you think?” You hesitated. “I think…” You swallowed. “I think he knows. I think he wants to know. But maybe he’s just as” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. “No. Maybe he’s more afraid of hearing the answer than I am.”
Silence settled over the table. Earl Grey Cookie regarded you with something softer in his gaze than before. “Because he’s immortal,” he said simply. You nodded. “And I’m not.”
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a low sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well. That’s… complicated.”
Understatement of the century. Chai Latte Cookie reached across the table, squeezing your hand. “And what are you going to do?” You tightened your grip around hers. “I’m going to face it.”
Earl Grey Cookie studied you, then slowly, a knowing smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “Then,” he mused, “this is going to be very interesting.” You exhaled, staring at the table, fingers curling against the smooth wood. The weight in your chest hadn’t eased not even after finally saying everything aloud. If anything, it had only settled deeper.
“I’m afraid,” you admitted quietly, the words tasting foreign on your tongue. You weren’t used to saying them, weren’t used to exposing yourself so plainly. Chai Latte Cookie squeezed your hand gently, her warmth grounding. “That’s okay,” she murmured. “You don’t have to do this alone.” You hesitated before looking up at them at your friends, at the ones who had been there for you through every stumble, every late-night study session, every impossible theorem you swore you’d never understand but somehow did.
“Will you come with me?” you asked, voice softer now. “Not inside or anything, just… drop me off. Like the first time.”
Chai Latte Cookie’s eyes softened, and she squeezed your hand again. “Of course.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a low chuckle, tilting his head. “You say that like we weren’t already planning on it.”
Earl Grey Cookie took a deliberate sip of his tea, then set the cup down with a quiet clink. “Consider it done.” His gaze flickered toward you, and for once, there was no teasing, no amusement just quiet understanding. “We’ll get you there.”
A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding escaped. “Thanks,” you murmured. Chai Latte Cookie grinned, tugging you up by the hand. “Come on, then. No time like the present.”
Your stomach twisted as you stood, but you didn’t protest. You had made your decision. Now, all that was left was to face it. You cleared your throat, shifting on your feet as you grabbed your bag. “Actually,” you started, glancing toward the hall, “we have Professor Almond Custard’s lecture first.”
Chai Latte Cookie raised a brow. “You’re using class as an excuse?”
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “Coward.” You scowled at him. “I am not a coward. I just have” You gestured vaguely, grasping for something solid. “academic obligations.”
Earl Grey Cookie exhaled, setting his cup down with a quiet clink. “Right. Because you’ve always been so devoted to Almond Custard’s lectures.”
Chai Latte Cookie snorted, nudging your arm. “If you need more time, just say that.” You shook your head quickly. “I don’t. I just… we have class.”
You waved your hands, gesturing at all of them. “It’s a valid reason to wait.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie leaned back, arms crossed. “Sure, sure. Let’s just ignore the fact that half the time, you’re doodling in your notes instead of actually listening.”
Earl Grey Cookie hummed, amused. “A very scholarly approach.” You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Look, I just want to get through this lecture first, alright? Let me at least pretend I have my priorities in order.”
Chai Latte Cookie laughed but relented, linking her arm through yours as the four of you made your way toward the lecture hall. “Fine, fine. Lecture first. Then we drop you off.”
The halls were buzzing with the usual morning chatter, students shuffling to their classes, some still clutching half-eaten breakfasts as they hurried along. You kept your head down, focusing on the rhythm of your steps, trying to quiet the nerves bubbling under the surface. Your friends weren’t fooled. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie walked beside you, hands tucked into his pockets, ever the casual observer. “You’re just stalling.”
You tightened your grip on your bag. “Can we not do this right now?”
Earl Grey Cookie chuckled. “Oh, but this is such a rare sight. You, nervous? Afraid? It’s almost endearing.”
You shot him a glare. “You could just not be the worst.” He smiled.
“Unlikely.” The classroom was already half-filled by the time you arrived. Students settled into their seats, the air thick with that particular kind of morning sluggishness that even the strongest tea couldn’t quite fix. Professor Almond Custard stood at the front, already sifting through a mountain of notes. You exhaled, slipping into your usual seat, Chai Latte Cookie right beside you, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie settling in behind, and Earl Grey Cookie composed as always taking his time before sitting down with a practiced ease.
You stared at the empty desk in front of you, fingers drumming lightly against the wood. Just get through the lecture. Then deal with everything else. It was a flimsy plan, but it was all you had. A beat of silence stretched between you and your friends before Chai Latte Cookie leaned in, whispering just loud enough for only you to hear. “You are afraid.” Your throat tightened, but you didn’t look at her. “…Yeah,” you admitted quietly.
She didn’t tease. Didn’t push. Just reached over, fingers squeezing your wrist gently before letting go. Then Professor Almond Custard cleared his throat, and the lecture began. The lecture moved faster than you wanted. Professor Almond Custard’s voice droned on, his chalk tapping against the blackboard in steady, practiced strokes. Normally, his lectures felt endless dragging on in a way that made your mind wander, your notes fill with half-sketched diagrams and stray thoughts unrelated to the subject at hand. But today, the words blurred together, slipping past you like water through cupped hands.
Equations, theories, principles you barely caught them, barely processed the information as the professor’s steady cadence filled the hall. Students around you scribbled diligently, nodding at key points, but your own pen hovered uselessly above the page. You weren’t ready for this to end. You weren’t ready for the moment class would be over, when the weight of your own decision would press against you, demanding you follow through. Your knee bounced under the desk, fingers tapping absently against the wood. You tried to focus, to latch onto something but the words slipped too easily from the professor’s lips, the minutes folding into each other, accelerating at a pace that felt unnatural. You glanced at your friends, searching for some kind of grounding.
Chai Latte Cookie scribbled away in her notebook, occasionally tilting her head like she was piecing together some complex puzzle. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, ever the casual learner, leaned back in his seat, twirling his pen between his fingers. Earl Grey Cookie sat with his usual air of composed attentiveness, chin resting against his knuckles, nodding at something the professor had just said. It felt normal. It felt routine. And yet, the second hand on the lecture hall’s grand clock kept ticking forward, dragging you toward the inevitable. Before you knew it, the chalk made its final stroke against the board. “Alright,” Professor Almond Custard declared, brushing the dust from his hands. “That’s all for today. Review the readings, and be prepared to discuss them next time.”
Chairs scraped against the floor as students shifted, gathering their belongings. Papers shuffled, the murmuring of conversation already beginning as people moved toward the exits. You gripped the edges of your notebook, staring down at the half-written notes half-finished thoughts that mirrored the way your own mind felt. Too soon. It was over too soon. You exhaled, steadying yourself. Then, before hesitation could sink its claws in deeper, you turned to your friends.
“…Let’s go.” Your friends walked with you through the winding halls of the Academy, their voices a steady hum around you familiar, grounding, and just distracting enough to keep you from sinking too deep into your own thoughts.
Chai Latte Cookie looped her arm through yours, practically dragging you along. “Alright,” she started, tone light but firm, “we need to go over strategy. What’s the plan?”
“The plan?” You blinked.
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked, hands tucked into his pockets. “You do have a plan, don’t you?”
You opened your mouth then hesitated. “I mean… I was just going to say it?”
Earl Grey Cookie exhaled, adjusting his cuffs. “Just going to say it,” he echoed dryly. “How bold.”
Chai Latte Cookie grinned. “I like it. Direct, no room for avoidance.”
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snickered. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”
“Hey-”
“No, no, I mean it in a good way.” He waved a hand. “You are direct. That’s why it’s entertaining when you get all flustered.” You groaned, throwing your head back.
“You’re so helpful, really.” Chai Latte Cookie patted your shoulder. “Ignore him. What’s important is that you’re doing this, and we are here to make sure you don’t chicken out.”
“I wasn’t going to”
“Uh-huh.” Earl Grey Cookie let out a soft hum. “Regardless,” he said smoothly, “you’re already halfway there. You’ve accepted it. You’ve decided to face it.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Now all that’s left is to follow through.” The weight of his words settled over you. Right. You were doing this. You had to do this.
As you approached the Scholar’s Wing, your stomach twisted, but Chai Latte Cookie gave your arm another squeeze. “You’ve got this,” she whispered.
Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie gave you a light shove toward the door. “Go get ‘em.”
Earl Grey Cookie smirked slightly, but there was something softer behind his eyes. “And remember, if all else fails-”
“-run away and pretend this never happened?”
“No,” he sighed. “Face it properly.”
You inhaled deeply. The door to his office loomed ahead. Your fingers twitched at your sides. Chai Latte Cookie stepped back, motioning grandly. “Alright. Moment of truth. Go in there and be brave.”
You swallowed. Your heart pounded. And then, before you could change your mind, you stepped forward, raised a hand and pushed the door open. Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t look up immediately. The quill in his hand moved with steady precision, ink tracing careful strokes across parchment, his posture poised, controlled. It was only after a breath slow, measured that he acknowledged your presence, eyes flickering up from his work.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight in your chest tightened. “I’m early,” you said, voice quieter than you intended.
His gaze didn’t waver. “So you are.” The room felt heavier than usual, thick with something unspoken, something fragile. You stepped forward, closing the door behind you, your fingers curling at your sides.
“I” You swallowed, forcing yourself to steady. “I wanted to talk.”
His expression remained unreadable. “I had a feeling.” Of course, he did. You exhaled sharply, moving to stand near his desk, staring at the ink-stained parchment, the neatly arranged notes. Every part of his world was meticulous, deliberate. So why did this feel so uncertain? Your fingers twitched at your sides. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
His gaze remained steady. “I suspected as much.”
You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “You suspect a lot of things.”
“I do.” Your stomach twisted. You had to say it. You had come all this way you had made this decision, and you couldn’t back down now. So you met his gaze, standing as tall as you could manage.
“Would you really make me wait a century?”
The room fell silent. His expression flickered not much, not enough for anyone else to catch, but you caught it. The way his fingers hesitated against the parchment. The slight tension in his jaw. The careful way he inhaled. “…Would you wait that long?” he asked, voice quieter than before. Your breath hitched. That wasn’t an answer. That wasn’t fair.
But you had no room to argue, because you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. You swallowed hard. “No.”
Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze softened just slightly, though his face remained composed. “Then why would I ask you to?”
Your chest felt tight. “Then why didn’t you just say that last night?”
A pause. Then, with a kind of honesty that left no room for doubt, he said, “Because I was afraid of what you would say in return.”
You inhaled sharply. His fingers brushed against the parchment, slow, thoughtful. “I do not fear the truth. I never have.” He exhaled, measured and composed. “But some truths weigh heavier than others.”
Your hands curled into fists. “Then say it.” His gaze didn’t waver. “And if I do?”
You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “Then at least I’ll know.” A silence stretched between you. Shadow Milk Cookie studied you, as if committing this moment to memory, as if weighing something deeper than just words.
And then, in a voice softer than you had ever heard from him, he asked “What are we, then?” You froze. The breath left your lungs all at once, your heart stuttering. He had turned your question back on you again but this time, it wasn’t a deflection. This time, he was asking. Really asking.
You stared at him, your fingers trembling at your sides. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I-I thought you’d tell me.”
Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled slowly, tilting his head just slightly. “You are my student.”
Your stomach twisted. “I know that.”
“You are-” He hesitated, his voice quieter, more careful now. “You are my friend.”
You swallowed. “And?”
He didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he lifted his hand, rubbing a thumb across the ink-stained edge of his quill. Then, finally, he said, “And I do not know what comes after that.”
Your heart ached. “Would you want to?”
His gaze held yours, steady, unwavering. “…Yes.” Your breath hitched. That was all you needed to hear.
The tension in your chest didn’t ease entirely there was still so much left unspoken, so much uncertainty, so much that neither of you knew how to name. But the truth of it this fragile, trembling truth was there, laid bare between you.
A/N Wow, I can't believe one more chapter of this back and fourth...or is it? Well they'll definitely kiss the plan hasn't changed. I really liked writing this chapter I really like my character's personality. took a walk to the beach this morning and the sunrise was just gorgeous!!!!
1 more chapter till they kiss I hope everyone's excited
Anyways...
Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥🔥
"What did you say Thalleous? Oh, you don't want me to train you but you want to train by yourself for the coming championship tournament where the grand prize is to wield the prime songs to use to hunt down and destroy the Voltaris?
"Okay brother, let me think about it.
"No.
Other info and reference photo after the cut
WIP from 2023 of September.
Didn't know what else to add or what to do with the background, so like "screw it", and bam! It's finally "done".
