#that'd be a major cause for psychological distress!! i think!!

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

Here is a secret: Pure Vanilla Cookie had felt like he was being watched for a long, long time.

He can't quite pinpoint when exactly that started, if it was before or after he earned his Soul Jam. He thinks it must have been after, because he thinks he wrote it off as the Light of Truth's presence, but the specifics don't really matter. Either way, the feeling of eyes on him had been so constant that it faded into normalcy, and he hadn't noticed it since.

Until now.

Now, with Shadow Milk Cookie breaching the seal, and crumbling Elder Faerie Cookie, and White Lily Cookie becoming the new Guardian of the Seal, and White Lily Cookie being really and truly back in the first place and– and—

The point is that Pure Vanilla is quickly realising that a lot of his prior assumptions don't hold weight anymore. A lot of things he had believed to be unshakeable truths turned out to be wrong or, even worse... well, lies.

And these realisations aren't all bad, truly. Some are sweet with relief and the familiar scent of lilies. But his feelings on the matter aren't helped by the fact that suddenly, for the first time in years, he can feel those eyes on him again in piercing clarity, burning with a malice he had failed to notice all this time.

Pure Vanilla does his best to leave them be, focusing on the unmistakeable warmth of White Lily at his side, and the determined hearts of the children, and everything that needs to be done. It is uncomfortable, but it is manageable.

Delivering word to Crispia about the situation is no quick business, let alone waiting for word to return back. As such, they are staying in Faeriewood for the foreseeable future, waiting on a response from the Republic or the other Heroes. The Faerie Cookies are lovely and more than welcome to the notion, though that is hardly a surprise with how beloved White Lily is to them, and rightly so.

Pure Vanilla Cookie, to his credit, does his best to relax as they wait, but it is increasingly difficult as time wears on. He cannot bear to go anywhere near the Silver Tree, because the weight of that gaze increases by a tenfold whenever he is anywhere near its vicinity, almost crushing him, as if urging him to- well, it makes navigating the Faerie Kingdom difficult, if he cannot get too close to its centre.

Pure Vanilla sighs from where he is settled gingerly down among the soft pastels of the flowers, nestled carefully beneath the shade of the bending canopy of less dangerous trees. From here, he can see White Lily's radiant figure across the bridges and walkways, roped up in conversation with the Silver Tree Knights and surely discussing her new title and all that may entail. Whatever the case, he is content to have her within his sight, soothing some age-old nerves.

He busies his hands with a flower crown, the repetitive motions helping to distract from the twisting trunks of the trees lingering in the corner of his vision, their silvery bark marred with dozens of squinting eyes, black as shadows with vibrant blue—

No, no, no – but it's too late, Pure Vanilla's hands stumbling on his work and crushing a flower in his clumsiness. Regret instantly soaks into his core, and he hurriedly releases the poor bud, only feeling worse when he sees that some of its nectar and colour has stained his hands. Such delicate beauty, destroyed by his own foolishness. He certainly can't give this crown to White Lily now.

Bitterly unwanted, the thought that Shadow Milk must be laughing at him now flits across his mind, and he drops the flower crown like its petals are dripping poison, lest he ruin it any further.

In the end, no matter how much he pushes it aside, his thoughts always swing back to the same dreadful realisation. If Shadow Milk has been watching him all along - and deep down, Pure Vanilla knows it to be true, even though he hates it - then he must have seen everything. Every moment he was vulnerable, every moment he was hiding, every moment he thought was private.

It's terrifying. His mind keeps reeling at the mere idea, flicking through his lowest moments with the aching, sickening knowledge that he had seen it all. It feels unfathomably invasive, almost as much as Shadow Milk's voice burrowing into his head like it belongs there. Nothing Pure Vanilla has experienced has been solely his own, and it seems like it never was.

Pure Vanilla is saved from his own sinking thoughts by the gentle warble of birdsong, and grateful for the distraction, he looks up to find a small bird descending from the canopy. Admittedly, it is different from the blue birds he is used to, looking to be a spore variant of some sort, but he smiles at it just as cheerfully.

"Hello, chickadee. How are you today?" He greets affectionately, voice warming as he holds out a hand for the spore bird to land on. It does with a chirped greeting back, and for the briefest, most blissful moment, Pure Vanilla feels light with the simplest happiness.

And then the bird looks up at him, with not two, or four, but countless eyes opening across its entire body, inky black and mockingly blue.

Pure Vanilla startles fiercely, jolting back and shutting his eyes tightly on instinct, and the movement is more than enough to scare the bird away, but he is too occupied with fumbling for his staff in the grass beside him to pay it any mind.

Finally, his fingers find purchase, and he hastily lifts the staff upright, half-leaning against it as he looks through its eye. The pupil darts around until it lands on the bird once more, where it has fled back to a perch among the branches.

It looks normal, or as normal as a spore variant can be. It certainly doesn't have a hundred knowing eyes.

The trees don't have eyes either, for that matter.

Pure Vanilla presses his forehead against his staff, desperately tempted to keep his eyes closed forever, to rely solely on his staff so he doesn't have to risk seeing anything unreal. It's a dangerous, guilty thought, but it persists even when he gathers the strength to crack his own eyes open once more.

He blinks once, twice, hesitantly looking around.

There are no eyes. Just a spooked spore bird in the canopy, a half-crushed flower crown hanging off his lap, and White Lily in the distance, now joined by an energetic Gingerbrave and his friends.

Pure Vanilla watches for a moment, waiting. When everything remains as it is, he sighs again, heavily, wearily, and sinks back into the bed of flowers, holding his staff to his chest in a loose grip, even as he lays down.

He thinks he hears a mean giggle chime faintly in his ears, but what does he know? That's probably a lie too.

#here's a ficlet because i couldn't help myself #personally if i got told by The Worst Person I've Ever Met that they had been watching me all along #that'd be a major cause for psychological distress!! i think!! #also i am a huge supporter and believer of sm living in pv's head moving forward #but just know that the eyes in this fic?? that is all pv babyy #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #← technically. his presence is felt #cookie run kingdom #crk #the biscuit library