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anriflos4 · 3 months ago

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Healer Cookie has made a wonderful new friend recently.

He had been in an awful state when they first found him, already half crumbled, and even the miracle worker Healer worried he wouldn't be able to save him. But save him he had, and in exchange, his friend had insisted on staying with them for the foreseeable future. He trails after Healer and assits him in any way he can, very rarely peeling himself away from his side.

Healer thinks it's sweet, growing fond of his new near-constant companion. Black Raisin is not so convinced. She keeps telling him that she has a bad feeling about this newcomer, and she doesn't like the way he's stubbornly cozying up to Healer. Healer does his best to soothe her concerns, reasoning that the attachment stems from his friend's gratitude for his saved life, but he knows how fiercely protective of their village she can be, so it's difficult to dissuade her entirely.

At the very least, his new friend seems to not mind Black Raisin's wariness. In fact, he pays very little mind towards the village at large, busying himself with long conversations with Healer whenever possible.

Healer must admit, he finds his friend fascinating, his conversations engaging and illuminating. When Healer is busy tending to patients, his friend will tell swooping, glorious tales that bewitch the whole healing tent, and often Healer's patients will leave with a fresh appreciation for their new neighbour.

It's the conversations they have alone, however, that Healer finds most interesting. His friend has a tendency to ask the strangest questions out of nowhere, and give the most captivating explanations, with a certain weight to his words that seems to be otherwise absent when they are around anyone else. Questions such as:

"Do you know what a Soul Jam is?" His friend, Plain Yogurt Cookie, asks casually, somewhere across the tent. Healer can hear the lazy flipping of paper.

Healer pauses, caught off guard by the immediate question after just stepping into the tent. He considers it for a moment; the name rings a very faint bell, but he can't actually pin it down to anything in his memory, so he shakes his head. "No, I don't think so. Why do you ask?"

He walks towards the sound of Plain Yogurt's voice with the aid of his staff, reaching out his free hand and making a small grabbing motion. There's the sound of shuffling before a tepid hand meets him halfway, cold fingers curling around his as Plain Yogurt pulls him to sit beside him on the thin bedroll. Healer can do this by himself, really, but Plain Yogurt always insists on helping, so it has become routine by now, to offer his hand and let him lead.

"A Soul Jam is a manifestation of incredible, unimaginable power and eternal life." Plain Yogurt explains as Healer settles at his side, gingerly laying his staff down on the floor. "There are five, and they originally belonged to five great heroes, who were given them by the Witches themselves. But the Witches are fickle beings. They cruelly snatched the Soul Jams back from the five great heroes on a whim and declared them unworthy, even though the Soul Jams had only ever been theirs."

Healer gasps, fully engaged with his friend's unspooling story even though it was sprung on him so suddenly. "Why? What did those five heroes do?"

"Nothing that warranted what they got. Their Soul Jams, the very core of their being, stripped away and them, cast into a suffocating Silver Tree in a faraway continent, sentenced to an eternal imprisonment!" There's grit in Plain Yogurt's voice that widens into a growl, oozing with a bitter anger. He must have some very passionate opinions on this story, because Healer hasn't heard him quite that rough before. "The betrayal! The injustice!"

"How awful." Healer comments sympathetically, nodding his head in agreement. "It sounds like a terribly unfair fate."

"It does, doesn't it?" Plain Yogurt clears his throat, and his voice smooths back out to its usual silky-sweet quality. "But that's not the important part. You see, the Soul Jams were broken apart by the Witches, and their purest parts were scattered across the realm, waiting to be found by the thieves that would become their new holders."

"Ah, so the Soul Jams are still out there somewhere?" Healer guesses, assuming this tale is something of a legendary mystery.

Plain Yogurt lets out a little hum. "Well, yes, but not quite. Actually, the Soul Jams have already found their new holders, but disaster struck and they disappeared in the aftermath." He shifts, leaning closer to whisper to Healer, a smile sneaking into his low tone. "One in particular, the holder of the Light of Truth, fell into a deep slumber, spending his days in a dreamlike haze of ignorance." He leans even closer, and Healer shudders as his breath gently caresses his dough, turning to face him. "Have you really never heard this story before?"

Healer sucks in a shallow breath and, on impulse, clumsily reaches a hand up, searching for Plain Yogurt's face. He gets stopped halfway, his wrist snared in a frigid grip, tight enough to startle him.

"...What are you doing?" Plain Yogurt's voice has lost its playfulness, as cold as his hands. Healer's stomach twists with shame. Plain Yogurt freely and frequently touches him, but Healer has already realised that he does not appreciate the same being done to him. He prefers to initiate, or otherwise lead the contact.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." Healer offers, ducking his head with an awkward little chuckle. "I wasn't thinking very deeply. You were just so close, and I suddenly wanted to take a look at you."

Take a look, of course, is meant metaphorically here. Healer just wants to feel Plain Yogurt's face, to remember its shape, they both understand that. But Plain Yogurt responds like it was meant literally anyway, his grip on Healer's wrist loosening to something more gentle as he sighs, "You're not completely blind, are you? If you took those bandages off, it would be way easier to get an idea of my face."

Healer has never mentioned the degree of his visual impairment to his friend, so he isn't sure where he got this idea from, but he doesn't focus on that. He can't, because the idea of taking his bandages off and opening his eyes strikes him with a dark dread, anxiety wriggling to life in his chest.

"No, I can't." He says firmly, shaking his head. He doesn't know why, but he knows that he really can't bear to do it, a possible danger that he doesn't want to risk.

Plain Yogurt is quiet for a moment that stretches and snaps, the only evidence that he is still there being the chill of his hand loosely around Healer's wrist. Then, he snorts, tumbling into a poorly stifled laugh. "Awfully eager to hide from the Truth, aren't you?"

Healer doesn't get a chance to fully process his mutter, layered beneath his laugh, before Plain Yogurt distracts him by grabbing both of his hands. Tucked underneath Plain Yogurt's palms, Healer's hands are guided to his face. Healer exhales, carefully spidering his fingers out to feel the contours, the short curling ends of his icing hair. Plain Yogurt's cheeks are lukewarm, just like the rest of him.

"Do you think you deserve the Soul Jam?" Plain Yogurt asks quietly, as abruptly as all his other questions. Healer can feel his lips move against the edge of his hand with each syllable.

Healer thinks about it, slightly confused by this hypothetical question but willing to entertain it. His hands go slack, satisfied with its acquaintance with Plain Yogurt's face and ready to return to his lap, but Plain Yogurt keeps them pressed to his cheeks. Healer doesn't complain, instead letting out a little chuckle.

"...No, I don't think so. If that power really is as incredible as you say, I doubt I would be suitable to wield it. Though," Healer's voice trails off for a second, turning wistful, "with it, I'm sure I would be able to help much more Cookies."

Plain Yogurt makes a noise of acknowledgement, before tilting his head – Healer knows, can feel it through his hands. "And what about me?" He asks, with an odd intensity. "Do you think I deserve the Soul Jam?"

This answer comes easier. Healer smiles, "More than me, at the very least."

Plain Yogurt doesn't reply immediately, but somehow, Healer can feel his gaze drilling into him, along with a dozen others, and he sits a little straighter under the scrutiny.

The tension bursts like a bubble as Plain Yogurt starts laughing, loud enough to fill the entire little tent, shaking its secure foundations. Healer's hands are finally released, and he folds them neatly in his lap. He enjoys the sound of Plain Yogurt's laughter, though he doesn't know what exactly is so funny.

Eventually, the laughter winds down, ending with a huff as Plain Yogurt slumps over against him, resting their heads against each other. Healer startles in surprise, but quickly relaxes into it, sitting still to avoid jostling his friend too much.

They sit there in comfortable silence, the sounds of the rest of the villagers tapering out as the night begins to creep in.

"...Have I ever told you about the Spire?" With their heads together like this, it feels like Plain Yogurt whispers directly into Healer's mind. His tone makes it clear that he knows he never has, the question rhetorical.

Healer answers anyway. "No, I don't think so. What spire are you talking about?"

"My Spire." Plain Yogurt replies simply, a smirk carrying his words. He begins to gesture dramatically with the arm not pressed against Healer's side - he can tell by the sudden jostling. "It's an absolute marvel, I tell you! Its' peaks are as tall as the sky itself, stuck in a perpetual night. There's the Yogurt River, and the blueberry bushes, and the apple trees in the courtyard. There are rooms by the dozen, and staircases that lead nowhere and everywhere, and cards that come alive. A place of splendorous chaos, holding the secrets of the universe!"

Whimsical pride plumps Plain Yogurt's voice, and that alone is enough to make Healer smile as he continues to describe the majesty of his Spire in excited, hushed tones against the end of Healer's brow.

Awe warms Healer like a hearth along with a spark of shame as he finally gets the chance to murmur back, "That sounds like an impressive place. Confusing, but impressive."

"Right?" Plain Yogurt grins. "Much better than this old dump, anyway."

Healer's smile stutters slightly. "Well, we all do our best with what we have here." He defends, voice steady, pulling away just a little. "If you have a place like that to return to, why haven't you? You sound very fond of it, and you've recovered enough to travel at length again."

"What, do you not want me here anymore?" Plain Yogurt teases, with an audible pout.

Healer sighs, shoulders relaxing again. "No, of course not. I like your company, but I really am curious."

"Mmm, I wonder. Maybe there's something keeping me here." Plain Yogurt suggests with a mockingly singsong lilt to his voice, one that isn't quite familiar to Healer. Healer jolts as Plain Yogurt's arm sneaks up around him, pulling him back into his side, but his head falls comfortably into the crook of his shoulder anyway. Plain Yogurt's short, soft curls brush against the side of his face, cushioning him.

"One day, I'll take you to my Spire, my dear." Plain Yogurt says in a low, strange tone, burbling like a pot about to boil over, and it is both a gentle promise and a threat of some kind.

"That sounds nice." Healer means it, even though he knows he doesn't plan to leave the village any time soon. Not when there are Cookies here who need his miracle healing.

Healer is not stupid. Though he sometimes find it a little unncessary, the villagers call him the Wise One for a reason. He understands Black Raisin's wariness of his new friend in particular.

Plain Yogurt is hiding something, and probably something big. Healer doesn't need to see him to know that when it is clear enough in his crafted voice. Besides, the state of their little village is not an enviable one. No traveller would want to stay past their strained welcome, especially not one who has somewhere as magnificent as that spire supposedly waiting for them.

But, regardless of whatever secrets Plain Yogurt may have, Healer doesn't believe he's malicious. He treats him too gently for that, his cold fingers cradling his hand every time he insists on helping. And his stories, told in such a lively tone, are always able to lift his patients' spirits. Why would he bother with all that, if he truly had ill intent?

No, Plain Yogurt can't be malicious, so Healer sees no reason to force his secrets out of him. If they continue bonding, they will surely surface eventually.

And if Healer is somehow wrong about this, if he really is malicious, then... well, it's better this way. Better for his attention and potential wrath to be focused entirely on him. Healer can take the brunt of it to protect the rest of the village, and it would be perfectly fair, since he had been the one to advocate for Plain Yogurt to be allowed to stay in the first place.

Ah, Black Raisin would be upset with him if she heard him say that, but it's true enough, isn't it?

That won't happen, anyway. Plain Yogurt is suspicious, definitely, and knows something Healer doesn't, but that is not an inherently dangerous thing.

For now, they can sit cuddled together on this thin bedroll and enjoy each other's company. Healer has no need for the past he doesn't remember, nor the future he can't see.

All he needs is this present, cozy in the fledgling night with his friend's lazily hummed melody coiling around him like a musical snake.

[next]

#PEAKEST OF THE PEAKEST

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anriflos4 · 3 months ago

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At the Peak of Truth, Despair Not

story analysis of the Diverged Paths costume set story with pure vanilla's truthless recluse and shadow milk's sage of truth, chunk by fucking chunk because i am INSANE and the parallels keep stacking up. they are the same in every universe. even this one.

this is an essay post and it is long. i am rambling a lot. i dissect certain lines in the story and talk about word choice. i also talk about how many parallels there are in this story to beast-yeast ep 7-8. i swear to god it makes sense. i am a writer by the way. fuck. anyways enjoy my insanity.

"Quiet, quiet! Our lecture will resume shortly! Please take your seats in a timely fashion!" A sonorous voice filled the old, quaint square. The voice belonged to a peculiar Cookie dressed in white and gold. Surrounded by a crowd of spectators, this mysterious Cookie now stood in the center of the square. He had just finished reciting an epic poem and was now explaining a convoluted philosophical concept to a freshly-baked flock, wide-eyed with wonder. "The Sage of Truth," they called him.

Setting the scene here, this is an "old, quaint square". The Sage is described here as "peculiar" and "mysterious", indicating that the cookies around him think he's odd. I'll return to the word "mysterious" later.

The word "flock" used here is also an interesting choice; a "flock of sheep". It's a backhanded way to call these cookies "sheep", which is used often in a derogatory way to indicate someone is unable to think for themself or unable to think critically at all, and just plays follow the leader instead of forging their own beliefs.

What's also an interesting thing to note is that the cookies call him "the Sage of Truth". The way this is phrased implies he didn't come up with that name, that he let the cookies name him. That, or he was waiting to be asked his name and was never asked, which I believe is also likely.

It almost seemed as if the Sage of Truth had always stood in that spot, sharing truths and teachings with anyone interested. With time, more and more Cookies came to listen to the Sage. Some said he was a professor of magic, others claimed he was an archivist, until an eager disciple decided to put an end to this dispute with a question. As always, the Sage welcomed the query with a graceful gesture. Pointing upwards, he uttered, "I hail from a peak so tall and narrow, it pierced the firmament itself!" His confounding reply caught everyone by surprise. Only then did the disciples realize that never once had the Sage spoken about himself. Yet, they wished for the lectures to continue and chose never to pry again.

The phrase here, "always stood in that spot", makes him seem more like an object, and less like a person with his own thoughts and feelings. The fact that the cookies begin to come up with things to say about him, that being that he's "a professor of magic", or that he's "an archivist", instead of asking him directly further lends to this line of thinking of him as an object.

This next part, where he is finally asked a question about himself, he exhibits two pieces of body language that show up later in the story at crucial moments. First, when he "welcomes" the query, he is being truthful about it; he wants more of these types of questions about himself. Second, when he "points upwards", he is lying; he claims to "hail from a peak so tall and narrow, it pierced the firmament itself!"

It is an exaggerated fib about the truth. This statement is immediately described as "confounding", meaning surprising or confusing especially in the context of not aligning with the inquirer's expected answer. The disciples then immediately realize that the Sage had never spoken about himself. Paired with such a confusing statement, one might think that such a realization would prompt more questions about the Sage himself, but instead, the disciples decide to focus on the knowledge he gives instead of wanting to learn about him, and so, never ask him another question about himself again.

This is why the Sage is described as "mysterious". They have never asked, and he has never told. The one time he was asked about himself, he said something exaggerated and outlandish; one can only assume he was trying to bait more questions of that nature, only for them to never come.

Another day, another fascinating lecture came to a close. The sky above began to tinge with red and Cookies headed back to their homes when a stranger entered the square. The visitor was draped in a dark cloak and donned an enormous hat that cast a shadow over his face. The Cookie stood there without saying a word and watched the Sage. The silence was broken by the Sage’s courteous greeting, his eyes having already discerned the shadow of despair hanging over the guest. "I don't believe I've seen you here before, my friend…! Alas, today's lecture is over. Care to come back on the morrow?" Yet, the dark visitor paid no heed to his words. "Stop teaching about the Truth." "Why must I?" inquired the Sage.

Setting the scene again for the debut of the Truthless Recluse. He approaches the square when the sun is setting and the sky is turning red, which is a nice bit of contrasting symbolism to Pure Vanilla representing the sun itself.

The Sage takes initiative to greet the Recluse, and immediately defaults to letting the Recluse know that he's done lecturing for the day instead of asking the Recluse about himself (not even a "How are you doing?"). One could speculate that this is a learned behavior; he is used to being used by the cookies who want knowledge from him, is never asked about himself, and as such, never asks personal questions of anybody else either.

But next, the Recluse addresses him directly, talks to him directly about the nature of what he does instead of asking for knowledge or treating him like something to wring answers from. This is probably the first time he's been talked to like this. It's a command, and he answers with a question of his own; the holder of the virtue of knowledge... answers with a question. "Why must I?"

The guest only grinned in reply and stepped closer. For the first time, a ray of light illuminated his face, and the Sage of Truth exclaimed delightedly. "Aaahh, if it isn't the Truthless Recluse himself. To what do I owe such a pleasure?" His monocle glistened with genuine curiosity. "It is said that the Truthless Recluse never descends from the Peak of Truth… How may this humble scholar be of service to you?"

It's interesting that the Sage recognizes the Recluse as soon as his face is revealed. It might indicate that they've met before, especially considering the Sage previously claimed to hail from what we can assume is the same peak the Truthless Recluse has stationed himself at.

The Sage is delighted to see the Recluse, and finally asks the Recluse a personal question, but phrases the question in an interesting way. "How may this humble scholar be of service to you?".

Calling himself humble could mean two things; that he is really a prideful person and is lying by calling himself humble to hide this fact, or, that, in choosing a passive adjective to describe himself with, he is attempting to deflect any aggression he might receive by asking a personal question. It could be both.

He also takes care to point out that he is "being of service".

The Recluse's eyes brimmed with sorrow. "Stop pretending. You know all too well that there is nothing at the Peak of Truth." The Sage clapped his hands. "Eureka! At last, the answer to the age-old question is found! Why the Recluse never leaves his beloved peak vacant! Why every Cookie who neared true enlightenment was inevitably pushed back from the ascension they so craved!"

The Recluse directly calls him a liar. "Stop pretending". The Sage of Truth is a liar! He tells lies and the Recluse can see right through them! But at least he has one thing going for him; he didn't name himself the Sage of Truth. The cookies did. They assumed he would never lie, and because nobody questions him, he has never been caught lying.

Cross referencing to canon Shadow Milk, we know that he holds resentment towards other cookies for just believing every word he said was truthful; being called out on a lie is probably something that's never happened before, especially not to the Sage of Truth.

On top of that, the Recluse is previously described as "a stranger", and the Sage mentions never having "seen him before" in the square where this takes place. All of that tied together means that the Recluse never heard the Sage's exaggerated fib about being from the Peak of Truth, and yet, somehow knows that the Sage is from the Peak of Truth. This is further evidence that the Sage and the Recluse have met before.

Upon being called a liar, the Sage of Truth reacts with delight, only to immediately deflect and deceive again. He turns the subject away from himself.

He tilted his head, expecting a confirmation. "All this time, my best hypothesis was that the Peak of Truth had been seized for good by some petty curmudgeon. Do you mean to say you sought only to protect seekers from disappointment?" The Recluse did not bother to deny the Sage's words for he loathed the Sage for guiding Cookies right into the maw of the cruel Truth. "I, too, once made the same mistake, and for that, faced despair upon the Peak… There was no Truth expecting me. No Truth to save us all. And I cursed myself hundreds, thousands of times over for my folly." And all his sorrow and despair surged forth in a single question. "Why do you persist?!"

"... seized for good by some petty curmudgeon". There's so much going on in this sentence.

If the Sage really does hail from the Peak of Truth, saying it was "seized" puts himself into a "helpless" position. If he cared about the Peak of Truth, what's stopping him from going to take it back? He is, after all, the holder of the virtue of knowledge, a godly power in his own right. Saying it was "seized" puts him in a helpless position and absolves him of any blame for anything that happens to it. Holding the power that he does at his fingertips also implies he doesn't care about the Peak of Truth at all, and is content to let it fall.

He says he'd thought the Truthless Recluse was a "petty curmudgeon"; I'll admit I had to look this word up, but it means a stubborn, ill-tempered person, typically an old man. Really funny actually, but he's negating this insult.

The Sage asks if the Recluse is turning cookies away from the truth to protect them from disappointment. The Recluse doesn't deny it; he "loaths" the Sage for guiding cookies towards the truth. Inverting that sentiment would imply that the Recluse turns cookies away from the truth to avoid disappointment, and uses deceit out of compassion for them. This is to prevent them from getting hurt, because "he too made the same mistake" of ascending to the truth, finding only despair instead.

The truth being described as a "cruel" "maw" is also such interesting imagery. It reminds me of Shadow Milk's snake that devours the sheep on the loading screen of the Awakened Pure Vanilla update. I'll also point out the fact again that the Sage's listeners were explicitly referred to as a "flock".

And finally, the question the Truthless Recluse asks the Sage of Truth. "Why do you persist?"

Because as far as the Recluse is concerned, he just got done explaining why the truth isn't worth it, so why should the Sage continue to preach it? Why do you persist?

It's a question asked out of a genuine, haunting, need to know why the Sage continues to send cookies into the hungry, crushing maw of Truth. It's asked out of desperate compassion for those cookies.

To that, the Sage only pointed upwards and said, "Alas, the Truth is imperfect by design… and yet, one must not turn away from the light of one's own Truth." And with a welcoming gesture, he added, "Not unlike yourself whose Truth is to protect others from anguish." The Recluse never answered. The Sage knew the answer anyway.

Here, the Sage points upwards; a previous indication that he's being deceptive. The statement he gives, "One must not turn away from the light of one's own Truth", seems to imply that he wants anyone listening to him to think that he thinks the truth is a good for cookies, of course, why wouldn't it be? However, throughout the entire story, the truth is regarded by the Sage as something negative, something that's been used to hurt, used to treat him like an object. So to truly answer the Recluse's question, what he's really implying here is that he guides cookies towards the truth because he's hurting, and he wants them to hurt too.

Next, he welcomes; a previous indication that he's being truthful. A welcoming gesture; spreading his arms wide, inviting the Recluse in. He truthfully wants the Recluse to call him out on this lie. He truthfully wants the Recluse to continue to speak with him. He sees an equal, a companion in the Recluse. Someone who understands.

This is such a blatant parallel to Compassionate Pure Vanilla offering friendship to Shadow Milk in episode 8, I would just like to point that out.

The Recluse never answers, but the Sage knows the answer anyway. Whether or not that "answer" is an agreement of companionship or a rejection of it is unclear, and is probably meant to be left ambiguous.

A long night passed and a new day dawned. Yesterday's guest was long gone, and the square was as peaceful as it could be… But the Sage could hear them. The footsteps of many seekers, stepping forth towards the Truth.

"The square was peaceful... But... the Sage could hear them."

This ending is very painful. The cycle of hurt continues. It would imply the Recluse rejected the Sage's offer of companionship, which is probably more likely here. However, the nature of the ambiguity means the Recluse could have accepted, and the seekers of truth may be what links the Sage and the Recluse now that they are apart. It's less likely.

Either way, they are the same in every universe. Even this one.

As I put it in a previous post, the difference between Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk, no matter which path either of them are on, is their compassion.

The Truthless Recluse pushes cookies away from the cruel truth, while the Sage of Truth encourages them to seek out what he knows will hurt them.

Because even on diverged paths, Pure Vanilla will always care, and Shadow Milk can't ever find a reason to.

#oh you GET IT #peak post

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