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"I will not stand by and watch you destroy yourself for such ungrateful cookies who'd rather watch you burn than listen!"
"Then leave! I will not abandon my duties for your selfish whims, I was baked for this- created by the Witches for this! I cannot abandon my duties for such childish fantasies!"
You glare at him, tears building in your eyes before you turn away from him. He, in turn, glares daggers at your back. "So be it," You practically spit the words out, "we have made our choices and neither will change their mind." The Fount of Knowledge refuses to watch you as you leave, instead turning back to his overflowing desk to glare at the mess of tomes and scrolls. You'd never understand the stress he was under, the rules he had to live by, the limitations set upon him by himself and others. You were a fool, not even a real cookie. How could you ever understand?
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The Fount of Knowledge rarely had regrets, his pursuit of knowledge did not allow for them. But he was unfortunately learning what real regret was. It has been a few weeks since the argument the two of you had, he'd figured that it would give you both enough time to cool off; for you to rethink the foolish notion of him 'running away' from his duties as the Fount of Knowledge.
Except you… had simply vanished. Your room was empty, a faint layer of dust already settling across the desk. The scholars of the Spire simply shrugging when he asked them about you. One looked at him with pity as they sighed. "They left, Fount of Knowledge. They claimed the Spire did not have the knowledge they sought."
The Spire? Being unable to provide the knowledge you were after? Unbelievable! He almost scoffed in the poor scholars face before they shakily hand him a letter, your handwriting scrawled across the paper. He didn't bother to listen to whatever else the unfortunate cookie said, snatching the letter and teleporting directly back to his office.
The Fount's hands shook as he ripped open the envelope.
Dear Fount of Knowledge,
By the time you're reading this letter I'd have already left. While I'll cherish our time together I have come to realize we are two separate beasts. You were right, I'll never understand you or your purpose. I was born into this world with no purpose, forced into an unfamiliar place where I knew nothing and could do nothing.
I've come to realize that what I seek cannot be found within the Spire of All Knowledge. My purpose- if there is one; is not here. Humans are inherently selfish, it's something that runs in our blood (or jam, I suppose). I must follow what I know, which is to selfishly seek a life I desire.
Knowledge is vital but I'd rather live the experience than read it. I want to experience the world I've read about, the soda oceans and sugar snow peaks.
And perhaps, foolishly, I'd like to find a place to truly call home; with a family I can call my own. You are not willing to give up your duties, this I have finally come to terms with, but I cannot give up my selfish desires.
I wish you the best of luck-
The letter was promptly balled up and thrown across the room, the Fount's hair flares, writhing as though it were its own entity. He harshly rubs at his eyes, willing the tears to stop before they could fully form.
You! You!!! How dare you!? He wanted to commit to his anger, commit to his rage that you'd so cruelly abandon him!
But he couldn't. He'd always known that you wanted to see Earthbread, to explore its every crevice and learn its secrets. Yet you abstained, chained to the Spire by his own selfishness. His need to keep the one cookie who treated him not as the Fount of Knowledge, but as a regular cookie with limits and feelings. You'd wanted to explore it with him but knew he'd refuse. It shouldn't have been a surprise that eventually you'd give up on him and go on your own.
Perhaps the argument was the last push you needed. The last reminder that his duties to the Witches who refused to answer him were more important than you. The last straw as he picked the cookies who spat in the face of his Truth over you who had always accepted it.
He ran his hands through his hair, soothing it back down. He had no idea when you'd written this letter, you barely spoke to the scholars or students who littered the Spire so he doubted you'd ever tell any of them. Hell, the scholar who you'd given the letter to was one you only spoke to 7 times! The Fount paced back and forth across his office, trying to remember every moment where you'd express interest in something.
You'd talked about seeing the Sugar of Happiness' garden, would you go there? No… you'd once mentioned that the overly cloying scent of sugar would probably make you nauseous.
The Spice lands? Also a no, you'd mentioned your dough was far too sensitive to the spices after spending a few hours with the Herald of Change. His mere spicy presence causing your dough issues.
He mentally goes through what you'd said about the other Virtue's territories; the pros and cons you'd discussed about each location. The Salt Lands were also a no, your dough too fragile to withstand the dry air. The Flour Peaks were a no, the faerie kingdom was a no, he desperately rattles his brain for some sort of answer.
He freezes as it comes to him, the dreaded truth that he, himself, wanted to deny.
Crispia. You were planning on leaving, and you'd probably meant it. You weren't just going to leave him, were you? You were going to leave the continent as a whole.
Why would you stay with one of the other Virtues? You already said you didn't want to watch him destroy himself for others, staying with the Virtues meant you'd still see him on occasion. Leaving the continent made the most sense in your odd mind, there'd be no risk of seeing him ever. No risk of hearing of his downfall should it come, just as you warned him it would many times.
His heart hammers in his chest as he rushes to open a map, knocking everything off his desk in his frantic movements. He glares down at it as he mentally calculates routes and how long it'd take to travel; if he were lucky you would've traveled on foot for most of the route to the nearest harbor. If he were unlucky? It would be too late; and you'd already be an ocean away.
He nods to himself, quickly changing his form as he rushes through a portal to one of the nearby villages. He just has to hope you didn't get too far, and hope to the Witches you'd listen to him.
---------------------------------------------------
You'd never been to the beach before, but even you could tell the stark difference between a regular Earth beach and an Earthbread beach. The air was sweet instead of salty, the ocean bubbled in ways the salt water couldn't in your previous life. The only similarity was the tranquil beauty of the moon shining upon the gentle waves that crash against the sand.
Your heart weighed heavy. You know you'll regret the way you left, but Truth was valuable, and yours was that you had to leave. You hope the Fount would understand, he couldn't give up what he was made for, just as you couldn't give up what you'd dreamed of. You needed to leave the Spire, you had to see the world and all it was.
The cookies you'd met on your journey so far were kind, accepting you into traveling groups and allowing you the occasional cart ride when your dough would grow weary. It was exhausting, yet exhilarating. The soreness of your dough was a welcome change to the monotony of everlasting studies and lonely readings.
It helped that you weren't in much of a hurry. Offering to help when you could to pay for their kindness in turn. The work was also a welcome distraction from the grief and worry you felt.
The Fount would be fine, you reason. You were simply paranoid, refusing to see it from the perspective of an immortal God. You were a fool who viewed it from your own perspective, he had every right to get upset with you. You just hope your letter to him would pacify his worries about you.
You were not a child who needed protecting from the cruel world, you were an adult and you needed the freedom to discover who you were in this new world. Pristine Milk Cookie The Fount of Knowledge had taught you enough about Earthbread that you could manage on your own.
None of the cookies you'd met so far had even suspected you to be something different, and you'd managed to play up your fragility extremely well, to the point where when danger appeared every other cookie in the group had rushed to defend you. You felt bad about taking advantage of their kindness, the reality being that you could defend yourself, but the risk of them realizing you were not bleeding jam was far greater than the guilt.
Your deceit would weigh on you, you're sure, but it's for your greater good.
You close your eyes, willing the guilt away, soon you'd leave everything behind. Crispia was waiting, and you were eager to see everything you'd denied yourself for the years you'd been in the Spire. It wasn't fair to either you or the Fount. You would never understand him, and he'd never leave with you.
A voice calls out to you, whispering your name breathlessly and almost reverently. You blink your eyes open in confusion, none of the travelers you came to this village with were ever told your name, so who could be calling you?
Pristine Milk Cookie The Fount of Knowledge, clad in his civilian disguise, stood a ways away. He stares at you with wide eyes and shaking hands, his chest heaving with exertion. He looked like an absolute mess, vest unbuttoned and shirt untucked with his normally neat hair mussed up from what you could only assume was him rushing about.
"I finally found you," his voice heavy with both grief and relief as he approaches you, reaching out towards you as though to embrace you; though he falters as you step away from him.
"Why are you here?" You didn't mean for your voice to sound as cold as it did, and you can't help but feel bad as he flinches. "Didn't you get my letter?" You tilt your head at him.
The Fount of Knowledge's face flushes as you scrutinize him, his hands moving to play with the lapels of his disheveled vest. He looked far more like a regular cookie now than he had the entire time you'd known him. He looked… small. Weak. Like if you glare at him too harshly he'd wither away into crumbs.
"I… did not read it fully." You narrow your eyes at his confession. Seriously? Before you can even open your mouth to scold him he continues. "It hurt. To know I'd chased you away," he glances back up into your eyes before looking away again, "I was upset at first, that you'd abandon me… but you were right." The Fount frowns as he stares over the ocean. "I, in my cowardice, refused to let you go. I kept you in a gilded cage despite knowing you wished to be free- all because I was too afraid to lose you."
You, in turn, frown. "Fount of Knowledge," you don't see the way he flinches at the name, expression warping as though you'd struck him, "you had refused to let me go, yes, but I was the fool who tried to refuse to leave without you. Not understanding you and refusing to even try." You turn away from him to glower at the moon. "You're right, in that I'll never understand you."
He opens his mouth, but doesn't get the chance to say anything as you continue. "I relent that I'll never understand what it's like to have a purpose. To be born for something or have it be bestowed upon me." His mouth shuts with an audible click as his expression wilts, guilt worming through his dough and soul jam. "I shouldn't have pushed you so hard, to try and force you to abandon everything you stood for."
You take a deep breath. "Fount of Knowledge, I'm sor-"
"Don't." You almost squawk as you're swung around to face him, his hands squeezing your shoulders almost painfully. He looked hurt, like you'd struck him directly. "Don't call me that."
You look at him in confusion. "That's your-"
"Please don't." He chokes. "Please don't call me that. I'm not-" The cookie pauses, fighting for the proper words. "I'm not…" he leans forward, pressing his forehead against your sternum.
"For you… I don't want to be the Fount of Knowledge." His voice was strained, as though the confession were physically painful. "I've thought about it. Considered it. I'd never wanted anything but knowledge before I'd met you." You stood stock still, even as your clothes grew damp from his tears. His hands move from your shoulders to your back as he embraces you, his face moving from being buried against your chest to being buried in your shoulder.
"I'm scared, of how much I desire it." The virtue shook as he held you, and you gently wrap your arms around him, feeling him sag in relief at the feeling. "I want so badly to run away with you, but I'm scared," his confession was muffled against your dough, "I'm terrified of who I'll be if I abandon my duties. Without the Fount of Knowledge who would I be?"
You gently peel away from him, taking his reluctant face in your hands as he steps back.
"You'd be Pristine Milk Cookie." you smile fondly at him. "My dearest friend who took the time out of his busy life to guide me, who protected me, who despite my ignorance had treated me as an adult instead of an annoying overgrown child." His face flushes as he glances away from your genuine gaze.
You dare to bring his face closer, pressing a kiss to his forehead where his mark would be in his other form.
"You are my dearest companion no matter who you are or what you choose." His hands come up to cradle yours where they rest on his cheeks. "Even if we are apart, whether by towns or by continents, you are still important to me." You smile at him, though his expression is still morose.
He glances out at the sea again, the moon dipping further to the horizon. You briefly wonder what he's thinking about.
You don't get a real answer, as he suddenly drops to one knee. Your hands move back on instinct but he keeps his hold on your hands, moving to hold both of them between you two.
"I want to run away with you." Your eyes widen in shock, mouth falling agape at his declaration. "It is impulsive and selfish, but… you were right. The cookies… they've turned their backs to the Truth. It doesn't matter what I do or how I do it, it'll only cause me pain to continue on the path chosen for me." He leans forward to press the back of your hands to his forehead. "The Witches… they'd left us long ago… would she even care if I strayed? Or would she encourage me to choose what makes me happy?"
You weren't sure what to say. What could you say? He nuzzles his face against your hands one more time before pulling back to examine your expression.
"…would you have me? Even if I weren't the Fount of Knowledge? Even if I were a regular cookie?"
You both knew it was a stupid question, but you answer it all the same.
"Of course I'd have you no matter what, Soul jam or not, emissary of the gods or not, regular cookie or not-" You yelp as he lunges at you, wrapping you in a hug that almost hurt from how tight it was. You return it regardless, hands balling into fists as you grip at his vest like a lifeline.
You squeak as he crashes his lips into yours, though you immediately melt into the kiss. He pulls back after a bit, face flushed and glasses askew as he examines your own love struck expression.
He presses his forehead to yours, and you giggle as you reach up to fix his glasses.
"I love you, Pristine Milk Cookie." You whisper smile growing as his face flushes even bluer.
He closes his eyes as he responds in turn, whispering your name and a declaration of love so sincere it made your heart melt.
