The shadows on the walls.
It's dead silent in the spire, spare for the faint thump of a cookie's feet against the floor.
The flock is asleep- or at least, it should be. It's been so long Imitation Vanilla isn't sure they still have the same routine.
It's been so long since he's been able to be the one to put them to bed.
He'd taken the time to apologize to Blue Raspberry, for leaving the boy to care for Cake Pop like he did, yet some part of him still felt, guilty, about it.
What a joke I am, hm? The thought crosses his mind before he can stop it, his hands clenching at his sides as he stares down a hallway.
He takes an unsteady step forward, into the hall.
His hand comes up to rest against the wall, and he squints his eyes as orchids begin to bloom from the cracks in the building.
It's not long before a thick blue mist starts to seep from the flowers, sinking to the floor in pools.
Slowly but surely it covers the floor, gradually filling the hallway, and Imitation Vanilla almost considers letting himself drown in it, if that were possible.
But he had promised he'd lay off on the mania, for Cake Pop's sake.
But he does let himself kneel down, hands against the floor as he takes a deep breath, the mist curling up towards his face.
It creeps past his lips, makes him squeeze his eyes shut as they sting.
They're a tinge bluer when he reopens them, everything seems tinged blue, and it's as nauseating as always.
As his mind settles, as much as it can, not too far down the hallway he sees something-
Oh how he wished he could reach out to them- fall into their embrace like he used to when things became too much.
But he shakes his head, pushes away the thought of what used to be.
He ignores the brush of a hand past his shoulder as he catches a glimpse of a dark robe move past him, sparkling blue hair brushing by his cheek.
He forgot how cruel his mind could be in this state.
He finds that familiar blue hand that haunts his mind right in his face, and as he always does, he takes it.
He doesn't look up as he's pulled to his feet, he doesn't even bother.
He knows there's nothing TO see, not once did these, "apparitions", ever have a face.
Imitation Vanilla drags his feet behind him as he's led further down the hallway, his eyes softer than usual as he tries to keep up with the hallucinations silently taunting him.
He's pulled into a dance, spun in the hands of a fake as a false warmth surrounds him.
He always found it strange, these almost afterimages always had a pattern to them.
His former companions would be gathered further down the hall, and Shining Milk would pass by him, offering him his hand.
If he accepted, he'd be pulled to his feet, brought closer to the ancients and forced into a familiar dance, one his feet moved on their own to.
Pure Vanilla did, the ancient would be dragged from his trembling body, as faceless as the rest of them as he took his place.
He hated when that happened, hated the way it felt to watch a dead cookie take HIS place.
He sighs, lets his eyes fall closed for once as he's spun around the hall, his hair brushing against the walls.
"Isn't this nice?" A distortion of Shining Milk's voice asks, Imitation Vanilla doesn't answer, so it continues. "Don't you miss this?"
Cruel, he thinks. This is cruel.
A laugh sounds from behind him, gaudy and laced with gold behind the broken static. "Of course it is!" A not quite right Golden Cheese responds.
"It's your mind, after all..." White Lily's voice follows, his body stills as pale, cold, arms wrap around him.
He leans his head back, it falls against something soft that isn't quite hair but doesn't feel like fur either.
His eyes open, he stares up at the blinding light of one of the light fixtures in the hall.
There's a small chuff, deep and grumbly as a dark clawed hand finds it's way to his hair. "We miss you..."
He turns his head away from the light, narrows his gaze just enough not to see it anymore.
It's the only response he gives, the one he always gives.
He can feel the softness under his head disappear with the arms around his waist and the warmth surrounding, can feel his feet slip as he loses the support of the "imitations".
And then he's laying flat on his back, his face just barely poking out of the mist pooled across the floor.
What Imitation Vanilla would give to bury Pure Vanilla for good.
