Wounded animals always had a tendency to panic. Cookies were no different.
It was the way of the world, to struggle against the darkness and instinctive fear of death each creature held. That was a thing the Lord's core had in common with this variant. The song they were humming came to a close.
They stepped up to the cave and peered inside.
Oh, how fun this one was. Ready and willing and so, so eager to play the game.
They moved away from the cave. Back into the darkness. Nearly high off the giddiness the vessel felt, they let the Herald's voice drop, "𐌙Ꝋ𐌵𐌓 𐌅𐌓𐌉𐌄𐌍𐌃𐌔 𐌋𐌄𐌅𐌕 𐌙Ꝋ𐌵, 𐌙Ꝋ𐌵 𐌊𐌍ꝊᏔ. 𐌀𐌋𐌋𐌋𐌋𐌋~ 𐌀𐌋Ꝋ𐌍𐌄!"
"𐌁𐌵𐌕 𐌕𐋅𐌀𐌕'𐌔 Ꝋ𐌊𐌀𐌙, 𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝕱𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙! 𐌕𐋅𐌄 𐌃𐌀𐌓𐌊 𐌉𐌔𐌍'𐌕 𐌔Ꝋ 𐌔𐌂𐌀𐌓𐌙 Ꝋ𐌍𐌂𐌄 𐌙Ꝋ𐌵'𐌓𐌄 𐌵𐌔𐌄𐌃 𐌕Ꝋ 𐌉𐌕…"
Oh, there it was. A nearly unnoticeable blip in the void. They didn't prefer using it -- it was cheating, in a sense -- but they needed to see what 1-B was up to. Abruptly, their head tilted up to look directly at the variant.
An owl. Gods, is this what love felt like? They needed to see it break under the pressure of its fears. So, with a snap of their fingers--
Shadow Milk was shattering across time and space, and falling--
The Fount was getting torn apart by the cookies who wouldn't leave her alone, and falling--
He was waiting for his friends to come back, and falling--
She was at the Witches' Banquet, watching First Milk get eaten, and falling--
He was getting pinned by silver forks, and falling--
She was surrounded by fire, and falling--
He was getting overtaken by the Ultimate Cookie, and falling--
She was going to be trapped here forevermore, and falling--
Variant 1-B was at a train station, creeping moss along sugarstone brick. A train pulled into the station. The floor opened up once more, so the resulting explosion from a catastrophic engine failure passed it by.
Hundreds of timelines and lifetimes cleared away like fog against the sun. It was left in the void, some sort of dreadful feeling of being watched prickling along its spine.
What had it been doing for the past while? Where was it? What was--?
"Blue, I--" Sugar, crying, "I can't keep- doing this! It's awful! You--!"
The variant whirled around, only to be greeted with the Garden of Delights, in ruins. Jam jars devoid of their contents, cookie crumbs along the too-green ground. Its missing arm twinged at the smell of jam.
"Fount. If I can even call you that anymore."
Why did the former paragon of Solidarity sound so... melancholy? It turned to face him, but only the desolate wastes of the Salt Barrens greeted it.
"Little Blue. After spending time in the tree... I've come to a realization. It always was your fault, wasn't it?"
The temple where Herald had always spent his time was aflame, devoid of any sort of civilization or sign of the spice cookie that was 1-B's friend. They were still friends, right?
"You always were the most meaningless one of us, in the end..."
The sun was setting over the mountains, flour fog resting idly at the base of the cliff that the blue cookie was perched on. Its foot nudged a rock off the ledge, and it disappeared into the clouds.
Seconds later, a crack echoed through the valley.
"Why did we ever put up with you?" and there was the Sugar of Happiness, tears welling up in her eyes, "This- all of this- is because of you, Blueberry Milk! I cannot believe I trusted you!"
She stalked closer, form flickering between the winged diadem and the halo the Beast of Sloth had, pink sash coming in and out of existence with every step closer to the edge.
"After everything, Blue. Do you really think I'm still your friend? You still think you can look me in the eye and tell me that it was all just a little jester trick?"
He couldn't see the bottom.
The light was disappearing as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Sugar's face was wreathed in shadow as the last rays of sunlight vanished.
She lifted him higher, dangling him over the fall that would crack his dough beyond recognition.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀dropped.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ n
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ d
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀w
⠀⠀⠀⠀ a
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ s
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀falling.
