dance.

.

"AND OOOHH THE HALF-COOKIE SO DESPERATELY FOUGHT!!" Loud cackles of a twisted yet perfectly amalgamated crowd echo throughout a chamber of lies.

Tendrils of pure darkness emerged from the shadows under a jester's cloak, an entertained smile glowing in the depths of his very own realm — Pure Vanilla wasn't a fighter, and he knew that.

The king swung his flower staff once more, pure light dancing around his tired-bruised hands as the darkness only seeped closer to his trembling form.

He was so small compared to the foe he faced, so pathetic, so tiny and weak,, he didn't even stand a chance, he may as well give.. wait.

"You-!! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!" Disgusting, he only felt disgusting as lies (or were they really?) tainted his mind of truth — Another bead of sweat dropped from his forehead as he was pushed to fight harder.
Afar with tendrils and inky-claws pouring out from behind, Shadow Milk only smiled.

He barely needed to lift a finger and yet the False Hero was already crumbling down before him. How entertaining!!

The true holder of knowledge stepped forth.

"Now now-! Don't be so harsh, you're still performing for the audience!!" His voice rung through the air like a siren, and yet his tone stayed as if his torture was only joyous. Flinching to the mere sound of the Beast, Pure Vanilla felt his back crack to the weight of an inky hand slamming him to the ground.

The old man let out a cry,, nose, skull and stomach now pulsating with pain as the sounds of growing footsteps began to muffle against the ringing in his ears.

With nothing but shaky hands and knees against a shadowed tendril oozing weight onto him, he faltered to recover — the eye of his flower staff, having been thrown across the floor now opening to give him more vision.

He looked so weak.

He was so weak, he- stop.

White boots laced and engraved in teal stepped close to him.

"Growing difficult now, aren't we darling?" His voice was lower than usual, it was wrong,, all of this was wrong,, Shadow Milk never should've awoken.

"I-"

"No matter!" And like a change of scene the jester returned. "The audience is just loving the show."
Cued cheers grew from what felt like everywhere,, it was almost as if Shadow Milk had truly put the two on a stage.

Pure Vanilla only struggled underneath the inky grasps more.

"Oh- Don't grow so hasty! The finale will be here soon, and then you will TRULY see the beauty of it all!! Along with your star of course~~" Moving with his hands, legs, face, body,, the jester was so incredibly expressive, and yet every emotion he displayed carried a potential, like he wasn't showing it all, like he was hiding.

The tendril pressing the king down only tightened further,, eliciting a cramped groan to escape his lips.

"..you won't... win.." Just three simple words sent dry pain down his throat, his head spinning like mad — if he wasn't using his staff to see, he wouldn't be able to keep his eyes open.

"Oh but won't I? Just look at you!" He gestured to the king as if he were speaking directly to his flower staff,, mis-matched eyes burning a grin into the singular eye just a few meters away as if he knew. "So sad, so broken and oh so desperate!! Sometimes I wonder how you even stole my power in the first place."

New hands creeped around to Pure Vanillas limbs, cementing him to the floor as his honey'd skin quickly tinged with shadow,, puppetry strings pulling on his joints.