Chapter Text
Some time has passed since she last entered this forest. The air is rich, thick with the magic that permeates the continent and heady with the scent of trees old enough to rot from the inside out; musty, cold and damp. Unpleasant, in short, and rather appropriate given the cookie who's made this place his home.
Under the tangled branches and over the writhing briar, she doesn't pay much attention to her drifting. She knows where her goal lay, there needn't be much active effort involved at all, and there's nothing of particular interest to her here. The bushes are bare of all but wilting leaves, the grass lacking any hint of vibrancy. Through the canopy above she can barely see hints of the sky, cloudy and gray with threatened rain. Already petrichor haunts the air, but most of the ground remains dry, the only hint of release the occasional droplet that falls through the sparse leaves above, as it hasn't truly started to pour.
Altogether it's incredibly dreary. There's good reason she doesn't wander from her Paradise, apart from the hassle of it all, but when it's necessary she makes such departures quick. There are other places she could go, cookies to meet and invitations to answer, but she doesn't quite care for it all. She has far more important things in mind, such as quickly restoring her Garden and preparing until it was absolutely perfect, until no one would ever dare even thinking of leaving. So that when Hollyberry returns, she will see the effort and care put into everything; she'll be so proud and Happy! Once the Garden is flawless, Hollyberry will stay with her forever. She'd promised!
Perhaps not in so many words, but Eternal Sugar knows her other half well. What else could she have possibly meant?
She pushes down any doubts that try to raise themselves in her mind, sounding an awful lot like some fool she happens to know. The one thing he has never understood were the feelings of other cookies, so any comments from him were basically just noise to filter out. This is her know-how, her entire purpose; she knows best. Despite his negative attitude and the lengths he'd went to recently in an attempt to drag him down with her, all it's resulted in is another little niggling voice in her mind to ignore. And ignore it she shall.
Still, he's useful as one of the most miserable cookies she knows. If she can make a Paradise even he is happy in, then she'll know she's made someplace truly, truly perfect! And, given he's clearly given up on his terrible sense of humor, it isn't even a risk to her beloved guests. She can invite him, ask for his inputs and desires, and not have to worry about him ruining everything she'd worked so hard to build. His presence could once again be a boon to her, and not a detriment~!
She really can't put it off until they meet again; though that time may be sooner than later, as she's aware the brewing storm of the metaphorical sort is on the verge of unleashing its torrent, it is most certainly going to be much too busy and involved to allow the in-depth analysis of her Garden she intends to ask of him. So, seeking him now before they eventually get the call back to their terribly fraught and tenuous alliance with that horrid woman Eternal Sugar can not even bother caring about is paramount. Hence, her presence here, now, in this forest that he'd chosen long ago.
She remembers a time when this place was brighter, happier. It had always been a dreary place by nature, but Shadow Milk had once upon a time cared for it and nurtured it. His guiding hand was a steady and kind force that brought leaf and flower to thorny stems and bent the branches so sun may shine through and dapple the ground in its warm rays; the forest was merely setting in his eyes, but he'd wanted it to be welcoming, and so it had been. The difference then and now is stark, the same as the difference between her dear friend Blueberry Milk and her dreaded ally Shadow Milk. She does still love him, but he is so terribly trying now. Or, was. She's Happy to note his subtle drifting, back to how he was in the days he was her dear confidant.
She missed him, really. Even when he was a pest and a bother, even when she wanted him kept out and away from her precious Garden, she'd still often wished to see him. It's not that he's unique in that regard; all her dear friends, despite their irritating changes, are presences she would rather live her life with than without. She can't imagine a world without them, and she doesn't quite want to. Perhaps not them acting as horribly cruel as they have been, but she understands that she's unique in her new understanding of Happiness. It is, once again, her know-how, her purpose, not theirs; they can make themselves miserable and spread that misery along to the cookies that once were under their care, and she will be ready to receive them when they realize the error of their ways, when they realize her Paradise can be theirs, too. Like Shadow Milk!
Eternal Sugar hums to herself, as she comes to the break in the trees that denotes the Spire's presence. Flying beneath the canopy was less strenuous than fighting against the tumultuous winds above, but she's navigated through this area enough times that its just as quick either way; so she didn't notice, before, what stills her and freezes her dough in place now.
The Spire was a beauteous place, tall ivory towers and sapphire-gleaming roofs, gold trimming the eaves and detailing every artful feature. It was a place that caught the eye, that reveled in its own grandeur, and even after his descent retained its noble facade. While it's not to her taste, and she thought it a smidgen ostentatious, it was a notable sight and comforting in its familiarity.
And here, in its place, lay only chunks of rubble and a field of eerily glowing milkcrowns, tangled in briar and stretching up towards the sky.
A shiver wracks her frame as her feathers puff and her eyes blow wide, her heart squeezed as if suddenly the briars were taking root in her chest. Her placid smile falls as she raises a hand to her mouth and muffles her instinctual gasp, and— where is he.
"Shadow Milk?" She calls, utterly incapable of silencing the concern that beats against her ribcage and violently rejects the part of herself that tells her he's earned this. Whatever this may be, however much she knows his actions beget consequences, however long she's spent playing at hating him for every misdeed and sour note he's ever crafted— she can't forget him coming to her, asking for her help, in pain and saddened because he didn't believe he could have a future he wanted desperately.
Fresh in her mind, the way he begged for pain, begged her to tell him he could not find his Happiness, because to have hope was in his mind worse for himself. His determination that he could not have his happiness, and that at the end of the tunnel there only lay a single grave, with the only change the matter of who lay in it. And she hates that, with this sudden horrifying scene of his dearest home in shattered hunks of stone, she can see such a vision too.
"Shadow Milk!" She calls again, snapping her wings out and rising to the air more quickly than she's had need to in quite some time; the force of it is harsh, and it aches, but she can't seem to stop herself. In times past she wouldn't have cared so much, she wouldn't feel this heavy dread and piercing fear, and it's terribly sudden to be faced with such things after so long spent in her carefully constructed shelter of gentle joy, where the worst she's felt has only been the most mild of irritation. She doesn't know what has gotten over her, save for the same niggling feeling Shadow Milk had tugged at back when he'd visited her Garden, when he asked her to consider the false reality that her Happiness was not Eternal.
Caring is not her to-do, not in this way. She should not be scared, because there isn't a thing to be worried about. This is… nothing. This is a trick! A mean joke, Shadow Milk has decided to play. As she frets and flutters around the clearing, darting this way and that to check every divot and crack for a hint of blue dough, she repeats those words to herself like a mantra.
"Come out, your silly little lies never fool me!" She stops to hover, in the center of the clearing, above the tallest sprout of milkcrowns, the brightest one that leans towards her as if keen to share its sadness with her, as if ready to feed on her tears and sprout more blooms. Ready for her to give in to this deceit and let fall proof of her failure, proof that her Happiness is as delicate as each pearly petal. But she won't, because her Happiness is Eternal, and she doesn't need to imagine a world where her friend is gone, and her last words with him were vile and angry. "I demand you to stop, you Beast!"
But the clearing is silent, there is no response.
The air is heavy with damp and rot and petrichor, the promise of rain as a few sporadic drops fall from the clouds above in minuscule increments, and yet there is only the faded, stale remains of Shadow Milk's power. Magic that is weak, and frail, and almost completely gone. A dismissed spell leaves no traces. A broken spell scatters, and she'd have felt it well before she reached the clearing. She doesn't know what faded means. It had never been something that mattered, never been something she'd thought she'd need to know.
She lands, feathers scattering into the wind that whisks through the clearing, on the largest hunk of rubble, where the thorns and milkcrowns haven't quite managed to reach just yet. She presses her hands to the stone and closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath and threading her own magic through the air. Each feather shines and drops like lead into the crevices, mimicry of twining eye-covered ivy sprouting wherever each lands. Immediately, her head aches with the sudden hundred-fold vision, and she curses that she hadn't thought to bring a vessel to filter it all through. But why would she have? Nothing ever goes wrong, so there's no need to worry she'll not have an item she needs.
It hardly matters; her mind is vessel enough, and she doesn't need details. His dough would be easy to find, if it lay beneath the rubble; the good in this miserable, dull place. So, she fights through the initial headache, pushing the spell to spread faster, until she's covered every inch she could and is forced to release it with a gasp. Mimicking magic you're not meant to be capable of is a harsh task, even if it's made easier by borrowing its remains, and immediately she breaks out into a coughing fit as the thread she'd extended snaps back harshly. If only she'd practiced with Blueberry Milk more; then perhaps using Shadow Milk's dredges wouldn't have been so trying.
At the very least, she thinks as she pushes herself back upright, bracing her wings against the rubble to keep herself steady as she cranes her head back to look at the dreary clouds above. He is not here. It's not much of a consolation, but it's enough to make her frame tremble with relief, enough that she can draw her arms around herself for comfort and attempt to steady her breathing. He's not here, so despite how something terrible must have happened, she can hope he's safe. She'll believe he's safe. There's no other option; it is merely fact.
Eternal Sugar lets out a long breath, closing her eyes for a moment before her smile creeps back onto her face. Right. What was she even thinking? She giggles to herself, raising a hand to her lips to daintily cover her smile, and then her giggles morph to laughter that aches. Of course he's fine! Shadow Milk must've simply had a little oopsie, and his home fell incidentally. He wasn't in that bad of a state when he left her Garden, so he couldn't have been at any risk. He'll be back once he's stopped being so sore over the matter, he's always been sensitive. She'll just have to remind him that every cookie makes mistakes, even if he feels such a comment beneath him.
Her wings shift, and then stretch behind herself, and she looks up at the sky again as her laughter fades back to giggles and then, finally, back to silence. She hums, a cheery, jaunty tune, as she gently flutters her wings to rise into the air again. She's still a bit winded from that whole silly overreaction, and then that terrible spell she'd woven— oh, she just can't believe she'd resorted to such nasty measures. There's always some terrible icky sense of gloom when she brushes against Shadow Milk's spellcraft, and now she's not going to get its vestiges off for weeks. She'll have some choice words, for when she sees him next.
She hums to herself again, as she starts her slow, careful drift back down to the clearings edge, steadying herself against a tree when she needs to pause to catch her breath. The thought comes to mind, for a moment, that "when she sees him next" will still be a very far off prospect, if she may not find him here. There are ways and methods to finding a cookie, tracking is not a hard spell to weave nor a task beyond her, but knowing her dear Shadow Milk and how he gets when his ego is bruised, well. The likelihood she needs to fight against all sorts of barriers to find him isn't low, and it just isn't worth putting energy into.
Besides, she thinks. Isn't there an old spell I could use? It better suits my purpose. She smiles to herself, leaning her weight against the tree and resting her cheek against the rough, scratchy bark.
Yes, what a quaint idea. One which, had she been a bit less hasty, she should have thought of sooner. He'd made the spell himself, long ago, just for incidences like this when they couldn't find each other, after all. It's just a matter of remembering how it went… and getting back to her Paradise, before she made use of it. As much as she loves this awful place, she doesn't feel any sleep here would be particularly restful.
So, after a moment more taken to brace herself for the return trip, she rises back into the air to start her way home. To her delight, that's when the rain starts in earnest. Hm. How lovely~