Okay, now.... how about... how they'll react if we got badly sick, not a simple sickness, like, we coughing blood ? For the cookies : Shadow Milk, Pure Vanilla, Wind Archer and Caramel arrow cookies please !!
Hehehe I do love angst. Sorry in advance to the Wind Archer and Caramel Arrow fans
Their Reaction to You Being Sick
Shadow Milk, Pure Vanilla, Wind Archer, Caramel Arrow
TW: Major character death, injury, sickness
Shadow Milk
In all the years eons he’d been alive, Shadow Milk can’t remember a moment he was more terrified. The night you woke him up with a knock on his door, saying something about pain and cold. When he had touched your cheek and instead he felt his fingertips burn. How you had collapsed in his arms.
Now here he was, hovering close to your bed as his minions tended to you. He was rigid, observing like a solder. Nothing could go wrong.
Some time between sleeping and treatment, you had turned your head to look at him. “Are you okay?”
He scoffed at the ridiculous question. “Why are you asking me that? You’re the one who’s dying.”
As soon as the word left his mouth, his eyes widened. Dying. He hadn’t meant to say it. He should have never spoken his fears out loud. You don’t seem too phased with a weak shake of your head. “I won’t die.”
“I know.” He mumbled, fiddling with his sleeves before looking up. The doubt in his eyes was visible. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” You said, mostly to comfort him. A small smile graced your lips. “I can’t leave you alone after all.”
As much as he wanted to take comfort in your words, he felt the pit of dread grow. There was a chance you could leave him alone. He’d been alone for centuries. He’d never admit it, but he was terrified of ending up that way again.
“You’re hurting.” You continued, ever observant. “I can see it.”
A bitter smile tugged at his lips and he let out a huffed breath. “You shouldn’t be worried about me, love.”
“But I am.” Your voice is stern as you reach out for his hand. He took it without question. “I know you hide behind a facade of being perfectly, morbidly happy. But I know what you really feel. You hate being lonely. You’re struggling.”
“Damn you.” He muttered, turning his face away. “I’m supposed to be the greatest liar in the universe. Why can you see through them?”
I shrugged, squeezing his hand. “Maybe I’m more powerful than you think I am.”
“You better be. And use some of that power to heal, okay?”
You nodded, pulling your hand away to rest it under your cheek. Your eyes fluttered shut as sleep room over once more. Shadow Milk didn’t move an inch. He waited until you were asleep to say what he was really feeling.
“Get better, okay? Because you’re right. I can’t lose you. You’re the only one holding me together.”
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Pure Vanilla
Ever since the cake monster attacks had increased on their crumbling little refuge, Pure Vanilla hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. It seemed like every minute another villager was injured or sick. A line had started to form outside of his tent for the more minor injuries and a room stuffed full of patients were waiting on him, bedridden. There was no time for rest.
Pure Vanilla was known for his placidity and unwavering composure, but he was beginning to crack. He managed to keep a smile and a hopeful gleam in his eye, but he couldn’t deny the frustration that was building inside of him. Not at the sick and injured, no. Never at his subjects. However the situation they were in managed to irl him in just the slightest.
He had felt himself beginning to waver the day you were brought back to camp by Black Raisin Cookie. The two of you had been fending off monsters in the nearby area, protecting the camp with all of your strength. That day you had been distracted. It was his fault.
Your divided attention caused your movements to slow, allowing an opening for an ambush. The cake monsters, commanded by Dark Enchantress herself, managed to overwhelm you until Black Raisin was able to come to your aid.
The weight on Pure Vanilla’s shoulders felt heavier. He was the reason you were distracted. It was his fault.
Earlier that day, you had found his staff unwrapped. You had seen that one eyed staff in paintings. The Ancient hero, Pure Vanilla’s staff. So how was it that your dear healer had managed to find it?
You had confronted him later and with enough push, managed to find the truth. Part of you had always known your healer was special, but you had never imagined it would be to this degree. You had simply run out of the tent in shock. That was the last he has seen of you until you weaker back injured.
With a soft breath, he pushed himself off of the stool he had been sitting on. He was going to check on the more severe cases. He was going to check on you.
He made his way to the makeshift infirmary and sat by your side. His had found yours rather quickly, and he closed his eyes, willing his last bits of energy to heal you. But before he could, he felt your hand leave his.
“Don’t.” Your voice was hoarse and you forced your eyes to stay open. “Don’t use it on me.”
Pure Vanilla’s brow furrowed, a frown tugging at his lips. “Why not? I can heal you.”
“If you heal me now, you won’t be able to heal the others.” You coughed, your face screwing up in pain. “Please, focus on them first.”
“You are no less important than they are. Please let me heal you.” He pleaded, reaching for your hand once more. “It’s the least I can do for keeping my secret.”
But you simply shook your head. “I pledged my life to protect these people. They are the priority, even with healing. And what do you mean about your secret?”
“You could’ve told the camp who I truly am. You could’ve told them that I’ve been… holding out on them.” Pure Vanilla looked down, the weariness showing in his eyes for the first time.
“You haven’t been holding out on anyone.” You squeezed his hand. “Even heroes have their limits. And I believe you kept your identity a secret for good reason. I trust you.”
“You are too good.” He smiled softly, bringing your hand to his lips. “And yet you refuse to let me help you.”
“You can heal me once the other are save. I beg of you to help them first.”
As much as he was tempted to inform your pleas and heal you right then and there, Pure Vanilla respected you too much to do so. Besides, you were strong. Strong enough to survive this injury. He nodded, lowering your hand and moving up to kiss your forehead instead. “As you wish.”
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Wind Archer
It was another day that Pomegranate Cookie had crossed into the forest. Somehow, she always sensed when he was at his worst. Like always, she had tracked him down and spoken to him about joining their forces. Joining Dark Enchantress Cookie.
He would be lying if he had said the words weren’t getting to him. She promised a world where the forest could flourish without other kingdoms around to destroy it. For many months, his forest had been plagued by pollution from those other kingdom, poisoning everything he loved. One of those things was you.
When Wind Archer stepped through the door, he set down his bow and searched for you. Somewhere deep inside him dared to hope you’d be walking about outside, but the rational part of him knew that wasn’t the case. You had been sick for nearly a month with no sign of improvement. You, a spirit of the forest, were tied to every living plant and animal. You were also tied to their pain.
You were lying in bed, looking deathly pale. Dark veins crawled over your skin like you had been poisoned, which technically you had. Wind Archer sat down next to you, brushing your hair away from your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“How are you feeling, Sunflower?” He murmured, lying down next to you so he could tuck himself into your side. This close to you, he could hear you struggling to breathe. That alone nearly sent him back to Pomegranate Cookie who was surely still lurking.
“My love.” The words came out painfully as you did your best to turn and look at him. “It’s getting worse.”
He felt a pant in his chest, pushing himself up to him elbow to look at you better. “Worse?”
“I don’t know how much lo-.”
“No.” He cut you off immediately, his face hardening. “I promised you I’d find a way to heal you, remember?”
You could only nod, too weak to argue. Wind Archer pulled you closer, burying his face into your hair. His mind wandered back to Pomegranate Cookie’s offer. He had dedicated his whole life to purifying the darkness. Could he truly become it instead?
When he looked back down, you had already fallen back into a restless sleep. Your eyes were screwed shut in pain. You looked anything but peaceful.
Becoming darkness could save you…
But he knew what you would say. You’d urge him not to give in to the tempting offers of Dark Enchantress Cookie. You had always defended all life, including the lives of those who were killing you now. If he turned to save you, would you ever forgive him?
So with a shake of his head, he decided to listen to you and keep fighting for the light. Even if it meant finding another way to heal you.
Weeks passed by with no good news. You seemed to get worse by the second, but Wind Archer refused to give up. He had sworn on the light in his soul to find a cure for you.
He was making his rounds through the woods, keeping a sharp eye out for anything irregular. He noticed the footsteps immediately. It had been a few weeks since he had heard those steps, but they were familiar nonetheless. Wind Archer turned, his bow ready. “Pomegranate Cookie.”
Pomegranate Cookie immersed from the shadows, as calm and collected as ever. She studied his weary demeanor and dull eyes with a ghost of a smile one her lips.
“What do you want?” Wind Archer tightened his grip on his bow. “Do you truly think I will give in so easily.”
Unlike the other times she had visited, Pomegranate Cookie did not start preaching in Dark Enchantress’s name. She simply looked at him with veiled emotion, but her eyes sparkled like she had already won. “You should go check your home.”
Wind Archer barely registered his bow falling from his hand. He hardly noticed the wind lifting him and racing toward his home. He didn’t even stop to think until he was through the door and standing at the foot of your bed.
You looked as pale and sick as ever, but something was different. Your eyes were open and glazed over. Wind Archer was shocked you even noticed his presence. Your fave twisted in pain and guilt and you managed to utter a single apology.
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head and rushed to your side, grabbing your hand tightly in his own. “No, my love. No-.”
“Everything hurts.” You mumble, looong up at him with pleading eyes. “You promised you’d find a crude. Have you?”
He didn’t have the heart to say no. He simply pulled you into his arms and held you tightly, muttering a string of apologies. “Forgive me.”
It wasn’t long before you stopped breathing. He felt your body go limp in his arms. The unbearable agony that gripped at his heart nearly made him crumble on the spot. You were gone.
The next few days went by on a blur. He only remembered flashes of burying you, of the words he spoke at your grave, of the small crowd of wildlife that had gathered to witness it all. But he remembered the burning fire in his heart. How it consumed him completely.
He had dedicated his life to purifying the darkness. To bringing light to the world. But the light had died. There was nothing left but darkness.
So with the weight of the world on his shoulders, he approached Pomegranate Cookie. She wasn’t surprised to see him there. Her sinister eyes met his lifeless ones as he kneeled before her. If only he had done so earlier, you could’ve been saved. He had to save what was left of the forest in the way he couldn’t save you.
“I will join. Turn me to darkness.”
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Caramel Arrow
It had only been a few days since the fog had descended on the city. An odd white fog made of flour. It stung the eyes and got caught in the lungs, but most of the Dark Cacao kingdom citizens thought nothing of it. They had battled back the monsters of the licorice sea for decades. A little fog couldn’t stop them.
But then the sickness started. Cookies were waking up with the tips of their fingers white as snow. Flour. It would spread until the afflicted vanished into the fog with a smile on their face, and an unnatural peace in their heart. The Pale Ailment, they called it.
The infirmary had begun to overflow with patients, dozens of cookies becoming infected every day. The healers were working day and night, on the brink of total exhaustion. But they had yet to save even one life from this mysterious sickness. Once you caught it, you were as good as dead.
So when Caramel Arrow received word that you were in the infirmary, your hands and arms turning white with flour, she couldn’t believe it. Just the day prior, the two of you had been patrolling together. You seemed fine! How could this have happened?
No. It had to be a mistake. There was no way you had caught the incurable disease. You couldn’t have.
She raced to the infirmary as fast as she could, nearly breaking down the doors as she entered. A healer came up to her, placing his hand on her shoulder and mumbling something about ‘calming down’ and ‘scaring the patients’. But Caramel Arrow wasn’t listening. She looked past the healer, desperately searching for your face. She prayed to the witches she wouldn’t see it. Not here.
But no such luck was on her side. She spotted you in a corner, your face pale with flour. She shoved the healer aside and dashed toward your bed, taking your hand in hers as she shook her head.
“No.” Her voice was weak with shock. “No no no, not you!”
You turned your head, blinking slowly as you saw her beside you. “Caramel Arrow…”
“You can’t be sick! Tell me it isn’t so!” She squeezed your hand so tightly it nearly made you wince. You let out a shaky breath, your voice hoarse from the flour in your throat. “You weren’t supposed to know.”
“Wh- no. What do you mean?!”
“I didn’t want you to know I was dying.” You coughed and the bead side turns dusty with the flour from your lungs. “You should be out there fighting like you always do. Not worrying about me.”
“So you were just going to die and let me find out later?!”
You looked away, unable to meet her devastated gaze. “I don’t know.”
“You’re not going to die. You won’t.” Her voice cracked as she rests her forehead on the back of your hand. “You can’t.”
“This is for the better, you know.”
Caramel Arrow froze, going completely ridged. Her eyes widened in horror and betrayal like you had just struck her with her own arrow. Her eyes narrow. “Don’t. Don’t you dare say that.”
You sighed and closed your eyes. “You don’t understand.”
“Of course I don’t!”
“I will finally be at peace when I return to flour. All will finally be well.”
Caramel Arrow dropped your hand and stands up, knocking her chair over in the process. “All will be well?! Do you even hear yourself?! You’re okay with dying?! With leaving me???”
You winced at her voice, never seeing her so angry and desperate before. But she had a point.
“No.” You mumbled, coughing once more. “Leaving you is the part that hurts me.”
She took in a short breath, her will to yell and scream at you disintegrating. She had wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake you until you fought to live once more, but she couldn’t do it.
You reached for her hand once more, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re the only reason I don’t want to give in to this peace completely. So please… will you stay?”
She nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. Without a word, she slid next to you in the cot, holding you tightly. She stayed like that for hours until you both had fallen asleep.
And in the morning, she had woken up with nothing but flour in her arms.
