Chapter Text
remorse.
(rɪmɔrs)
Remorse, a noun, is what you feel if you regret your actions or wish for another outcome.
A pulse.
Pure power flows through the amalgamation's veins as it inhales, using its borrowed lungs. Not borrowed. Taken. It wasn't its fault the previous owner of this dough was such a fool, ripping a piece of its soul to try and strengthen himself.
Pain strikes it immediately as it rises to its feet. Opening its eyes, it sees a world of crimson. Power sources Cookies running across the… what was it called? Battlefield. One of the other souls making up its core answers. The being trills excitedly as it races towards the thousands of poor souls it can use to fuel itself… to make things perfect…! It's what it was created to do, right…? That's what the red dragon who created it had said. It was perfect, and it needed to spread that perfection…!
Though something bright catches its many eyes as it digs its ichor-stained claws into the ground to halt its rush. Bright.. and white.. and golden… that bright thing, whatever it is, is practically radiating power. It has to go after it. To make things perfect. Or else it's a failure. And it doesn't want to be a failure…
"—dow Milk Cookie!" The bright thing shouts. Who? It doesn't know, at least not until one of the souls forming it manages to screech loud enough to be heard over the constant agonized wailing. The previous owner of this… body… Oh! So this Shadow Milk Cookie was their host now. Good to know, even if it would prefer its power sources to not have names.
Drawing on Apathy's power, it summons a barrage of hands to try and pin down the bright thing, but is thrown off by a large cookie with a sword that looks like it could do some serious damage to it. "Pure Vanilla Cookie. Get out of here. I'll handle the Beast." They say in a deep, rough voice. Like they can destroy them! No matter what, they'll always crawl back. Their souls are eternally bound here, even if their body is shattered into a million pieces, they will reform in time. "Dark Cacao… this is my fight…" The bright thing starts, right before the amalgam leaps.
It's quickly slammed back to the ground by the cold metal of the blade, agony rippling through them in waves until its body pieces itself back together. "What… is this..?" The cookie responsible asks before it rises back to its feet, morphing its cape-like 'hands' into claws so it can strike back. While the other is stunned, it quickly rears and attacks their torso, slashing through the somewhat thick fabric of their clothing with ease. The cookie recoils, clutching their chest as dark brown jam slowly trickles from the wound. The sword. Focus on the sword. It pins its eyes on the purple gem set in its center. More power…
The amalgam shrinks back to lunge again— or at least it was… before its eyes are slammed with a blinding light. Parts of its shadowy half disconnect and don't reform. Not much… but if it keeps up they'll be doomed… and it won't be able to fulfill its purpose…
"Shadow Milk Cookie.. What is the meaning of this…?" Its eyes snap upwards as it lifts itself shakily to its feet once more— after several attempts that end in failure due to them not cooperating…
"…You.. mean us…?" It growls. The white thing— a Soul Jam holder, of all things… looks like it pities it. They don't need this fool's pity… "Hah… HAHHA…. AHAHAHAHHH…. Aren't you hilarious…" it takes a second to dig through Shadow Milk's memories for their name before continuing. "Pure Vanilla Cookie." It grins, flashing off their host's sharp fangs, tainted with venom that would make anyone sane want to crumble. He narrows his eyes slightly before speaking again. "I don't want to fight you." Liar. Traitor. Hate. Hatehatehatehatehatehate— Its fists clench as the Beasts' memories bubble up again. "Liar." It snarls— but doesn't lunge just yet. It knows how the remaining holders fight, it's merely drawing this out for the thrill of jam pumping through its veins as it rushes after its oh-so-unfortunate prey.
"I don't know what happened… but we don't have to—" A flick of its inky black tail, laced with eyes cuts Pure Vanilla off. "Aw. How cute…" Some of its eyes roll back in its head as it searches for something else to use. "You think anything can be resolved by conversation, don't you?" Only a little more until we feast… we just have to get to point we can catch him off guard… another soul trills in excitement as part of its light hand snake behind the two 'heroes'.
"Most things, yes—"
"PURE VANILLA COOKIE! LOOK OUT!" Resolution howls as the amalgam's serpentine extension narrowly misses. "…Such refusal to join us… alas… seems we must do this the fun way." It cackles before summoning Destruction's parashus.
Shadow Milk feels awful. Drained. Probably both… He opens his eyes to see… the Spire? In its original glory, back when he was still—
No. He's not going to think about that. Glancing to each side of him, there's three other silhouettes, though… something about them feels.. wrong. Black lines snake up their bodies— up to their mid-torso—, sometimes flickering for a moment before reestablishing themselves. A look on his own body shows he is the same.. though the lines on him are much more present… and are all the way up to the corners of his face. He growls before turning to the other Beasts. Eternal Sugar seems to be stirring slightly, at least.. And they're not in that tree again. That's the most important thing.
They're here.. Safe— or as safe as they can be. Either way… it's better than the tree. Anything is better than the tree. Vines growing around their throats, slowly choking them— pinning them in place until they couldn't move…
Even if—
His thoughts are cut off as pain erupts across his torso. His sharp canine teeth dig into the flesh of his lip as he holds back a scream of pure agony. 'wait.. Shit.' He thinks as he feels the cold, yet burning sensation of his own venom entering his bloodstream. He'll be fine— he can't die from accidentally injecting himself… But it still hurts, and in a few minutes he'll most likely be hallucinating— if he's not unconscious before then.
'Though… perhaps that's preferable to the other option…' He thinks, as he kneels on the grass, breathing far faster than what's normal for him. Everything hurts… his veins feel like they're freezing yet melting at the same time, and his chest as though he had been sliced open, with his innards spilling out onto the floor.
He swears he can see movement out of the corner of his eyes, and can hear someone's voice… but he can't turn his head to look. Seems he's gotten the paralysis this time around… maybe he's losing immunity. Who knows?
Someone's shadow standing over him is the last thing he sees before his vision fully blurs— and finally fades to nothingness.
—
The Other-Realm is supposed to be a place of familiarity to him. It's supposed to feel like home.
But when Shadow Milk opens his eyes, all he's met with is a pile of rubble. The same rubble that made up the Spire.
His chest and lip throb as he slowly steps towards the once-glorious structure, gently running a hand along its sides, not caring if it cut him or not. It was familiar, in a world where he can't afford that luxury anymore.
He finds a rock flat enough to lie down on, and closes his eyes. No point in being in pain if he can help it…