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[yourtomb]

[[Pretty it up later maybe

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[yourtomb]

i. So Flood Me Like Atlantic — Edge of the Grove

[Has there… always been a statue out here, where the Grove gives way to the the trees? Surely not. But that doesn’t change the fact that a suit of armor stands deathly still, silently surveying the grove. A blade, solid black as if cut from obsidian, is plunged into the ground at the moment, while metal clad fingers grip the hilt.

Surely this is a new addition. A trick, perhaps, albeit one that’s been sitting undisturbed. Coated by the freshly falling November snow as it is, this little prank has gone unnoticed for some time. A solid inch of powder lays across the surface of metal, unfazed even by the whisper of wind.

It is, by all means, just a statue. And yet, as if sensing the presence of someone else, a flicker of movement may register. The helmet tilts, ethereal plume shifting with it, as the suit of armor seems to consider its visitor.

Well then. What say you?]

ii. Weather Me to Nothing — Stables

[Silent Salt has not yet made sense of what has happened. He recalled, clear as day, kneeling before the virtue of freedom and pledging his strength to her. And yet, just as quickly as he felt relief flood through him, hope for a future yet unwritten, everything seemed to go wrong.

And now… he is here. He knows he is far from the Barren, but the question of just how far settles uncomfortably in his chest. What of Salt Cellar Cookie, and the knights who had only just found their Lord Commander again? And that was to say nothing of the new duty he had thrust upon himself.

His head swims as he tries to search the town for answers. He sincerely doubts that the stables will have any answers for him, yet he stumbles into them all the same, determined to leave no stone left unturned.

Not an entirely worthless effort, he quickly notes. Though it is devoid of answers, it is not devoid of familiarity. A steed just as stained as he is stares back at him, nickering faintly as they regarded one another.]

Nox Black Salt [His voice feels gritty, fettered by an emotion he dares not name.] I should have known you would find your way to my side, even now.

iii. Wash Away the Blood on my Hands — The Inn

[Pleasantly familiar, yet altogether foreign. That is the only way he can describe the sight of a bountiful feast and smiling faces. He has seen solidarity like this before, amongst his own knights and their beloved people. Yet they had never known comfort like this. Meals had been hard fought and fleeting. Meager as they were, they had sufficed for what they were. But this… This was a display of abundance, one he would have wept over all those millenia ago.

Once more, Silent Salt finds himself gripped by that strange sensation. He is grateful that no one, up until this point, has cast a glance his way. He remains in the corner, watching uncorrupted happiness be passed from hand to hand. Given how low he has fallen, he suspects he should be jealous.

But only warmth seems to flood from his chest as he continues to watch. Given how stricken is, you can hopefully forgive him if he doesn’t respond to any nudging right away. Just give him a minute or two, he’ll come around.]

iv. Don't you wake me up — Wildcard

[You know what to do. Throw something at me. Be gentle with me, this is a very new muse and I’m scared.]

I for the boy

[lovelyredthread]

[ Perhaps the sweet scent that carries on the breeze is enough to tell who the young boy is- the Garden's grip never fully releasing, or perhaps its the tart halo bobbing behind his head, but Pavlova for a moment doesn't seem to recognize Silent Salt as he approached.

He looks just the same as the last time Silent Salt saw him all those centuries ago, though perhaps a touch less cheerful. The boy was squinting hard at Silent Salt, as though studying him-- before noticing the soul jam. When he saw that, a smile seemed to break out, genuine at first, then hardening into a mask of forced calm.

All of the virtues fell after all. His father may be doing better, but pretty much anyone from Earthbread was a bright blinking danger sign. Even so, he flutters over, reaching for the hand not directly supporting the hilt of his sword. ]

Uncle Salt! What are you doing just standing there? You've gotta be cold even with all that armor.

[yourtomb]

You.

[Silent Salt's voice comes out as a snarl. He snatches his hand back, away from the searching grip. The hand against the blade, meanwhile, tightens, causing leather and metal alike to groan. Young though the cookie might have appeared, Silent Salt knew all too well what Pavlova was capable of. Even if he knew just how terribly his fellow former virtue could twist minds in the name of her corrupted happiness, he could not simply forgive what had been done against his own home.]

State your business or begone.

[lovelyredthread]

[ He winces just slightly, though he looks... rather confused at the blatant hostility. He expected this to not go well, but not quite like that. ]

Well jeeze, I guess that shows me for being concerned!

[ He crosses his arms, shying away a step but looking... petulant if cautious. ]

I just haven't seen you in the Grove before. Do you even know where you are?

iii inn

[argentry]

[it is a normal night at the inn, and Elder Faerie Cookie has been listening to the sounds of people mingling from upstairs in his room. yes, he probably should eat. he's been in his room studying all afternoon, like he's been hibernating.

but something is nagging at his soul, an earnest tugging or nudging, and he is uncertain as to whether it is apprehension or excitement. it is like his heart is leaping in his chest. he wonders what has happened. he's already seen so much in this world. what if something terrible has happened again?

it is chilly, so he gathers up his robes and shoes and makes his way down the stairs alone to find the feast waiting for him. a party? he does not mind if he partakes!

before he can obtain a plate and some food, something in his gut tells him to turn around and look into the corner. it's strange, like eyes are there. that, in itself, would not be unheard of for this haunted inn. what he does not expect is Silent Salt Cookie to be there, not even a ghost, but fully in the armor.

it is a very good thing that Elder Faerie did not grab food, yet, because he would have dropped the plate in his shock. as it is, he's standing still among the festivities]

--!!

here we fuckin go 😭

[yourtomb]

[Many faces seem to come and go from this gathering. Some leave in frustration, having thrown a hand of colorful cards up in the air, while others stumble out in a juice-addled haze. Others come in late, red in the face from the cold. It leaves him with so much to observe, so many faces to keep track of.

Which is why he does not immediately notice the presence of another. Though something certainly does pull at the back of his mind, that has been the case for some time, hasn't it? Thus he pays it no heed until he has finished observing the newest face to enter from the outdoors.

In the end, he is not sure if he regrets not turning to look sooner, or if he wishes he had kept his eyes away for longer. Like many things — the decisions of White Lily Cookie, the ascension of the new virtues, to name just a scant few — news of Elder Faerie's fate had reached him despite his solitude. He had resigned himself to never seeing his dear friend again, deciding that it was perhaps for the best. Better that Elder Faerie not have to witness his terrible fall anymore than he already has.

And yet... here he is. Here they both are.

Silent Salt takes a step forward, body moving without his permission. When sense returns, he halts his forward momentum, instead tilting his head as he tries to make out what manner of magic could be causing an illusion such as this.]

How is it that you - ?

[argentry]

[Elder Faerie stays stock-still, his eyes fixed upon the moving suit of armor. even now he knows it, even now, he remembers the Beast that came to him covered in crumbs and jam. not his own, no. that was...

his eyes well with tears and he has to stop himself from breaking down in the middle of the feast. already, a few interested pairs of eyes are staring at the both of them, and he desperately wishes he had enough power to disappear, with Silent Salt in tow, so that they could be alone for this reunion.

his dear friend seems surprised. and, why wouldn't he be? Elder Faerie should not be alive. yet, mercifully, he was brought to this world. and, perhaps, even more mercifully, he was given a chance to meet White Lily Cookie again. and this one, too! certainly, Elder Faerie had toyed with the idea that either the Salt of Solidarity or Silent Salt the Beast could be brought here. if he was able to be revived, then the Gods of this world could bring anyone from Earthbread, be they dead or alive]

This world has both horrors and magic even beyond our own.

[his voice is cracked, dry. he steels himself, but it doesn't prevent the tear that rolls down his cheek. he quickly wipes at it]

III

[jesterlies]

[There is someone in the feast that taking this with way less weight than Salt, but that's probably to be expected. After all, what's the point of being so virtuous about it if it's just going to get eaten anyway? Why risk leaving some to spoil? But Salt has always been this kind of person, Shadow Milk thinks. Very self-righteous and self-sacrificing, even with his fall. Even now he stands at the edges like a sentinel as if watching for some invisible threat.]

[Shadow Milk likes to think he knows the other Beasts fairly well, but Salt had always been harder for him to read. Rather he seemed very straight forward and upfront, but lately... Ah well. None of that really matters now, right? Right.]

[A plate suddenly floats on by Salt, hovers right in front of him. Shadow Milk leans on his staff, appearing moments later out of the ether.]

To have a plate yourself isn't taking away from anyone else, you know!

[yourtomb]

[It was only a matter of time before their paths crossed. From the moment he arrived, he'd felt the threads of Shadow Milk's presence. Cursory investigation of his surroundings had revealed all the evidence he needed to confirm that suspicion — the research hall was an obvious hallmark of the former emissary. Since then, he'd kept a respectable distance from the other Cookie.

Best not to start a fight when there were so many dynamics at play, after all.

That didn't mean he let his guard down. He had been waiting for some time for Shadow Milk to show his hand, to make a move of his own. It was only a matter of time — the jester did seem to wither without adequate attention, after all.

The floating plate is caught with nary a glance. Instead, Silent Salt turns his attention toward Shadow Milk as he appears.]

I do not need it. [Behind the helmet, a single eye swivels in search of a soul without a meal. Finding none, he opts to keep the plate for the time being. Surely someone would be hungry soon enough.] Since when does Deceit care for the well being of others?

[jesterlies]

[It was incredibly telling that Salt did not seek him out, after he knew the other was deeply aware of his presence. The Beholders watched him frequently from corners of the Grove. And yet, perhaps it was also telling that Shadow Milk similarly did not make himself just as known! Loudly, and with confetti.]

[There is something Different between them now, though Shadow Milk doesn't know what it is on Salt's end.]

Hm, have you eaten anything at all since you arrived here I wonder! I bet you're shriveling right up! These bodies aren't like our dough from before, after all.

[Or maybe he's just a specter in a suit of armor. He wonders...]

Good question! If I told you the answer, would you even believe me?

wildcard; dusk meets dusk

[lilyberation]

( she had been basking in the warmth of the fireplace in the inn, brushing one of her pets' fur when it happens-- there is a tug in her mind she has not felt before, not even when fragments of herself fluttered against dark enchantress cookie's own mind only to wisp away again. there is a hum in her soul she has not known, and yet somehow it feels


right.

there is a voice calling out within her, and though she silently tends to marble's fur without wandering out just yet, she hopes there is an answer. it is the first time since she awoke from the coffin that her soul jam has felt alive again, and it wants what is out there. yearns.

she always has yearned so.

no, she will not wander out into the open with this feeling while she cannot hear approaching dangers even with marble at her side, brushing her fur out with trembling hands and ever-sore fingers, and wait, a beacon of light in the tower, so to speak. is it anxiety, fear or glee that make her hands shake? she doesn't know, but marble is at least patient with her and rumbles with purrs all the same. )

[yourtomb]

[There are advantages to the vigil that Silent Salt keeps at the edge of the woods. He has not moved since his arrival, and it is for more than one purpose. It allows him to understand the world around him, to observe the lively faces that pass by. More than that, it allows his mind to acclimate. Unlike his name, his mind is not a silent place. It is a web of connections, some dormant and some not. Yet ripped from a large some of them as he is, the quiet has become deafening.

He needs time to sort through them, to understand what pieces of the web remain intact.

The sticky blue of knowledge and deceit is what comes to him first. He expects the others will follow, but when only one strand takes shape, he tucks it away into the back of his mind. Confronting Shadow Milk in a realm he does not understand will only bring harm. That is especially true when it's apparent that there are collateral souls occupying this place.

But it isn't long until something even deeper than that centuries old connection takes shape. It is the other half of his being, something that has existed as long as he has, different though it has become. Once, he had reviled it. Now it feels like salvation. He had known it for only seconds back home, but it had been enough to completely reshape everything.

And right now, he does not know if he should run to or from its force.

Fate, as it turns out, sees fit to tell him where to go. Pavlova Cookie approaches him, and his first priority becomes dealing with the cherubic creature. Though his initial impressions are off, suspicion remains. Still, more pressing matters begin to take shape. Though he might have hoped approaching her home would take him to her, he is disappointed that the ache within his chest takes him elsewhere.

Matters settled, he realizes he has begun moving in that direction unconsciously. His body knows what the soul needs, and opts to overrule the mind. Doors are swung open, and though he has to duck to enter, enter he does.

And there she is. Despite the relaxed atmosphere, White Lily Cookie shines brighter than ever. Some part of him thinks himself unworthy of her light, the kiss of freedom he had been unable to obtain with his own two hands. But he approaches her all the same.

Rather than face her directly, though, he kneels behind the chair she sits upon. Knowing not her affliction, he speaks aloud.]

I hope I have not kept you waiting.

[lilyberation]

( marble notices his physical presence, and when she moves to look at him, so to does lily. she turns in her chair just in time to see him kneel behind her, even. lily stares for a moment, so stunned she feels like her heart is about to freeze- )

Ah-

( what is he saying? she knows he must be saying something, but she can't- with every new encounter the state of her body drives her higher into a panic, truly. was this what the forest wanted, why it did this to her? her heartbeat spikes, her body feels stiff and weak at the same time and she almost feels sick... after a moment, she grips her staff and tries to think, to tug on that bond that guided him to her and let him understand--

I am so sorry. The forest stole my ability to hear, and I do not believe our memories align. I want to know you. But I am not as you remember.

she can only pray that jam opens to jam.

all the while, vernal- the little dachsologie, white with red eyes and the faintest green tints on it's divine markings- finally stirs. it had been napping curled up beside her but- soul meets soul, and then does so again. the way her thoughts swirl and churn inside her is worrying and makes the poor thing whimper a bit. )

ii ;)

[cryopathy]

[by now, kiera knows very well the creatures who frequent the stable. likewise, they know a new "voice" when they hear it, soft a sound as the nickering might be. even if they didn't take note from around the back, pinto also gives the particular whinny she does upon seeing a stranger, be it person or horse.

they let their footsteps be obvious as they approach and enter the back door before those feet guide them to pinto's stall, even as their eyes seek out the newcomers. a hand strokes down the face of their own horse, soothing her, as kiera regards the otherworldly figures with interest.]

I wasn't aware we had another knight in town. And such a handsome steed! Welcome to you both.

[yourtomb]

[As Kiera enters, Nox Black Salt turns their attention to the stranger first. A low whicker leaves the horse, acknowledgement and warning both. Their master does not immediately turn. Instinct alone tells him that it is not a Beast or threat he is familiar with, and thus not worth an instant reaction. He finishes his efforts, content with Nox's mane, before turning to the visitor once and for all.

Admittedly, the admission to being a knight makes him feel somewhat uneasy. There's nothing immediately familiar about their visage, and there are plenty of knights in the world, but still...]

Thank you for the hospitality. [He bows his head in acknowledgement, managing respect despite his trepidation.] These stables, do they belong to you?

[cryopathy]

[they tilt their head, thinking on their answer before giving it.]

I built them [correction: you asked for them to be built] and tend them, but they are free for residents to use! All I ask in return is that you treat your companions well and clean up after them.

Ser Kiera Aurelius. Who's your friend? [as playful as their tone is, uh, sorry they are eternally a horse girl and care more about honse than you.]

about a week after the first kiss

[argentry]

[Elder Faerie senses something dark in his dreams lately, but he has been trying his best to not worry about the state of the Grove, or the supposed looming threats. he really wants to find a time to sit down and have a talk with Silent Salt, now that he's had a chance to digest their last conversation. things had gotten heated, in more ways than one, but, ever the rational Cookie, Elder Faerie is determined to not let things stay awkward between the two of them.

so, one evening, he goes to Silent Salt's room and knocks on his door]

Hello, it's me. Are you in?

[yourtomb]

[When asked directly, Silent Salt would probably deny that he's been hiding away. Deep down, however, he knows it is a lie. In the wake of every revelation with Shadow Milk Cookie, he has been doing his best to keep out of sight, and shore up every vulnerability that he had chosen to lay bare that night. That means more patrols, often into the late hours of the night.

He's also chosen to wear his armor almost exclusively.

But he can't do this every night. His body is woefully human, and prone to fatigue. With little energy to perform his usual tasks, he opts to stay in and work on cleaning his armor. He is dressed down in simple slacks and a button up shirt. His hair had been tied up and out of his way at one point, but the bun it had been pulled into was messy from the get-go, and a decent chunk of what had been pulled up has now fallen free.

All of this he is unaware of as approaches the door. Some part of him does hesitate when he realizes who waits outside. He doesn't regret what happened between the two of them, far from it. But he cannot help but worry about what will come of it in the long run. A smaller part of him wonders if it will be Elder Faerie who will come to regret it.

But he won't say no to the man. He opens the door after a long moment, violet eyes meeting Elder Faerie's briefly before darting back toward the wall behind him.]

Good evening, Elder Faerie Cookie. Is everything alright?

[argentry]

[so formal. but it is nice to see Silent Salt without his armor. he smiles up at him]

Everything is fine.

[a lie, but he is unharmed]

I simply wanted to see you, and ask you if you'd like to go to dinner with me.

[yourtomb]

[Though the corner of Salt's mouth twitches downward, and though there is a hint of suspicion on his face, he says nothing to argue. Rather, he gives a simple nod, taking those words for what they are.

It's the second statement that spurs a more pronounced reaction. Quickly, he finds himself glancing downward — a faint sheen of sweat on his skin, oil from polishing flecking parts of his shirt — and then back to Elder Faerie once more.]

I - do not think I am presentable enough. [At least, not to be seen with Elder Faerie. And his armor, half tended as it is, is also not in the right state either.

Still, he does not want to deny his... whatever they are, now. In fact, the idea of eating with him is pleasant. It's just... him.]

bright and early the day Suri gives his proposal

[jesterlies]

[Have a knock at your door Salt, it's your favorite blue jester and he's got his staff in one hand and a ...sword? in the other. And one on his belt. Hm!]

Salty! Saaaaaaalty! Don't make me hunt you doooowwwn, I've got such a proposition for you!

[yourtomb]

[With an experience as jarring as having the fallen sun speak directly into his head, Silent Salt has been up on his feet for quite some time. His armor is already on, Salt himself prepared for whatever may come of this day. The "request" does not bode well for anyone, he knows this.

But what he does not expect is for that voice to arrive at his door. He answers it in but a moment, but despite the force in which he opens to door, there is no real malice there. He squints down at the smaller man for a long moment, then sighs.]

... White Lily will be cross.

[This is not a no.]

[jesterlies]

[The gust from Salt swinging open the door makes his bangs swoosh a little before they bounce back into place. He grins, but doesn't seem too flapped.]

Blame it on me! It is my idea, after all.

[He hums, offering the hilt of the sword he was holding in his hand. It's a smaller, shittier sword than the one he prefers. If they're going to go at this, Shadow Milk would prefer not to get completely obliterated by a sword as wide and tall as he is.]

Though, I think she would be far too interested in our results once it's all said and done. Seeing as I know the sort of cookie she is, it's best we test if this is all a scam or not first before she decides to test it herself.

[yourtomb]

Perhaps she would be — if the results boded well.

[But there is a very real possibility that they will not. Death may not be permanent here, but the consequences typically were. All they had to go off of was the word of an already fickle deity. This could just as easily be part of the game.

For now, he says nothing, instead taking the proffered sword with a hint of a frown. It is indeed far too small for his liking. It does not have near the heft it should. Still, if things are to go the way they are expected, he does not blame Shadow Milk for wanting to avoid more... grievous injuries.]

... Will you be able to fight properly?

[The Beholders might help Shadow Milk's vision, but it still doesn't seem fair.]

on what is presumably valentine's day

[lilyberation]

( at some point, waiting on the side table of his room in the inn, is a black heart-shaped box. inside are an assortment of chocolates.

it smells faintly of lilies. )