Chapter Text
The Sage had gotten used to routine. As nerve wracking as it was nowadays, the routine made his days at least have some sort of structure. No surprises, nothing he needs to fix immediately or anything like that.
He would go out at whatever time his first class of the day was scheduled, 9 am on Mondays and 8.30 am on Thursdays for example. And then he would listen to complaints for around an hour or two afterwards, things he as a Virtue could fix. Then another class, perhaps two. And then- Story time in the town square and question answering.
Head home - repeat.
What he did at home in his Spire of Truth honestly depended on his mood, whether it was studying magic or trying a new flavor of tea. But if he was completely truthful, which was his Virtue, he was plain bored.
As much as he loved his job, he was starting to get tired. Same old boring routine. His Soul Jam hadn’t spoken to him in years, his friends were always busy and the students for this year's semester were not exactly the sharpest tools in the shed.
It makes him remember his days as The Fount of Knowledge, eons ago now. His name, Blueberry Milk, straight up forgotten behind the sea of titles he had received and made up since then.
But a name he personally could never forget was Pure Vanilla, the one who had crash landed into his timeline from his own. At the time, he couldn’t really care less, this cookie who wielded a Soul Jam that looked like his own was nothing but a cheap and tasteless copy.
That's what he thought until he noticed how awfully kind he was, and how much the blonde haired cookie adored the future version of Blueberry Milk. The version of him in the future was called Shadow Milk, dressed in the clothes of a court jester in inky blacks and blues. The look of him made him sick, disgusted even. It made him do everything in his power to be less like the man he saw groveling pitifully on the floor in the Other-Realm he had visited once. How could Pure Vanilla love such a cookie?
Sure, it was him after all, the most lovable of all! But him? Shadow Milk?! Unheard of.
Pure jealousy, ugly and searing hot jealousy burned his chest as he thought about how that Shadow Milk got such a companion, even in his sickening state. So, why didn’t he get anyone like that? Where was his Pure Vanilla?
So, when the Witches declared that they were to split all the Virtues’ Soul Jams he was delighted! Sure, it was a tough transition from Knowledge and a full Soul Jam to just a half BUT at least he has this other cookie to share it with.
He searched all over Earthbread, put up posters and sent out messages to find this other cookie that was to share his Soul Jam. And even if he never said it out loud, he truly hoped it was Pure Vanilla. That the Witches truly had blessed him with his own.. And after years of radio silence, something from the grape vine reached his ear.
Apparently they resided in a tower somewhere, a spire like his own. A rumor spread that The Sage himself had hidden the truth of the world in this tower, and that the bravest cookies in all of Beast-Yeast would get sent up there.
This idea excited the Sage beyond measure, he remembers vividly how happy he had been. Finally something exciting!! Even if it was born from something as silly as a rumor, which he usually tried to prevent. He couldn't help but be interested, what if this was his chance of finding his other-half? His Pure Vanilla?
He sent some cookies out, though they never returned. They must’ve died, crumbled in some way that he doesn’t care to think about from sheer disappointment. How difficult could it be to climb one tower??
He kept sending them, a lot of the residents in the city offering themselves for nothing else but a rumor. And with a point of his sharp nailed finger, he would pick a few fortunate cookies to send out.
When he was asked why they never returned, he simply smiled kindly and said “Ah, they simply found their true purpose elsewhere!” This wasn’t a lie after all. He sent them to find the truth, whether they actually got there, he did not know. And what happened afterwards, if they got there? Why didn’t they return if that was the case? He thought about sending a few of his puppets there but immediately retracted that idea from how long he figured the road was, a waste of energy and magic.
So, he stayed bored. Bored and would hear tales of how his other friends had met their other-halfs and how all that went.
Good for them, he hisses through his teeth as he slams the book in his hands shut. The students behind him immediately start packing their bags, the sound of chatter and bags zipping shut filling the room to the point where the Sage can’t hear his own thoughts.
He turns towards his chair, where his own bag sits patiently waiting to get slung over his shoulder. He sighs as he walks towards it, his neck strained slightly from how much he used his arm in today's classes. Four classes explaining the importance of arm usage during spell casting: exercises for free basically.
The lecture hall slowly turns into silence as Blueberry Milk takes his time to pack his bag, he still has over an hour to hold the story time in the town square after all. He thinks about which story to tell today, perhaps the one about the splitting of the Soul Jams since it was on his mind today? Blueberry Milk looks up as he reaches for one of his books on the desk and realizes the light is still not fully turned on, only the stage light is.
As he looks around to remember where the light switches are in this specific lecture room, he freezes as he hears a voice behind him. “Stop sending cookies to my tower.”
Sage feels his mouth twitch into a smile as he feels his eyes widen in happy surprise. He feels body and tries to make his hand stop twitching. His entire body is both frozen while also itching to turn around and look at who this is..
Because he knows..
This is him, he knows it is. His other half. He can feel it in his entire physical body, and how the Soul Jam on his collar itches and hums in a satisfied tune. He slowly turns to look at this stranger who he hopes to befriend.
On top of the stairs, furthest back in the lecture room. The door behind him closed, how did he enter so silently? Did he sneak in midway through the lesson?? Perhaps that's why he drifted away to think about his other-half in the middle of class.. a subconscious thing to do in the presence of the other half of his Soul Jam.
“Oh? And why’s that?” The Sage tilts his head as he tries to see the stranger better. He steps closer towards the end of the stage he stands on, the stranger does not move.
“You’re sending them to die in pursuit of your precious truth, when you should stop that in itself completely..” The stranger's voice sounds angry, like he’s biting his lips to keep himself from raising his voice. And oh, how the Sage adores it. Finally, someone who contradicts him!
“Haha well I apologize but I am the Sage of Truth, it's my job to follow that path after all.” He answers simply, an apologetic smile on his face.
He hears the other suck in a breath before giving a reluctant sigh. He suddenly starts walking down the stairs, the staff he holds sending echoing tapping sounds as he walks. The Sage has to hold back his excitement as he places both hands behind his back. Though, he cannot help the gleeful smile on his face.
The stranger steps into the light and the Sage feels his breath leave him for a second. The other cookie is rather pretty! Golden haired locks fall just over his shoulders, and his robes a night mimicking shade of black.
And his eyes. Oh, his eyes. The blue and yellow in them mimic the Sage’s own eyes perfectly. And what do you know, he looks like just Pure Vanilla, a clean carbon copy of the one long lost. That detail causes Blueberry Milk to blink in shock for a second, but only for a second. Before a small and quiet chuckle escapes his lips, one only he hears.
He was made for me, The Sage thinks as he gives the other a sharp grin. A snaggle tooth catches on his lip, he does not care to notice in the haze of joy he finds himself in. The blonde stranger gives him a sharp glance as he steps onto the stage. His eyebrows knit together as he walks closer to the Sage, and Blueberry Milk preens under the spotlight.
“That may be so, and I am the Truthless Recluse, your opposite.” Truthless Recluse hisses, his eyes searching the Sage’s face. He seems upset up close, not angry like his tone would have one think.
Truthless Recluse? The Sage keeps his smile up as he thinks about the name for a second, a strange title (or is it actually his name?). One would have thought his name would be Pure Vanilla like the one he met all those years ago.. but now the Sage finds himself pleasantly surprised.
“Your truth will ruin this world with the way you share it. It's useless to try. Stop and join me at my peak of Truth, please..” Truthless Recluse's eyes lock with the Sage’s and the Sage takes a deep breath. The Recluses eyes look saddened, almost on the border of pleading. Oh how dearly he wants to say yes..
Why shouldn’t he? He can always leave again. But…
“Is that why you came here? To ask me to stop spreading the truth?” The Sage asks, his head tilting slightly as he takes a slight step back. Afraid to step on the blonde’s very beautiful robes. The Recluse takes a step after him, the action sending Blueberry Milk's head reeling.
“Yes, to join me instead. As one whole.” The Truthless Recluse holds his hand out, and The Sage stares at it with wide eyes. His hand almost on instinct takes it, as it hovers over the perfectly tanned hand of deceit. One whole Soul Jam again, the idea is a tempting one. His hand is frozen above the others and he notices how Truthless Recluse is visibly shaking.
Huh.. he thinks for a second and instantly comes up with an idea.
“How about this my dear Recluse?” Sage retracts his hand and Truthless Recluse blinks sadly up at him at the rejection. “Why don’t you stay here?”
“Stay here?” Truthless Recluse hesitantly repeats as he gives Sage a once-over. An almost disguised look on his face.
“Yup!” The Sage nods aggressively, his hair moving with the motion. “Stay here and convince me to leave!” He smiles cheekily and notices how Truthless Recluse is obviously taken aback by the proposition. Still he is very obviously thinking it over, it will most likely be out of his comfort zone. If his name is anything to go by.
After a moment of thinking, Truthless Recluse nods slowly, “Sure. But I shall follow you everywhere, that's my only condition.” The Recluse's hand that sits around his staff tightens as he gives the Sage a shard glare, an ice cold one. The Sage meets him with a bright smile.
“Kay! Sounds good to moi, my dear Recluse.”