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Magic burnout.
A common sickness among magic communities. One that usually caused weakness and a vacant feeling. As though a part of you were missing.
Pure Vanilla Cookie was no stranger to it. He had his many magical ventures early on into his childhood, being deemed a magical genius for skipping so many grades. It was only natural his body became his only restraint when it came to learning.
Pushing his limits time and time again had taught him a thing or two about magic burnout.
For starters, it was not meant to be this severe.
It was a strange visual. The vague figure of Shadow Milk, resting on his bed. Not even the guest one that was more plush and comfortable, but his. He had mumbled something about magic traces making it more comfortable before passing out.
Pure Vanilla sighed, shutting the book and shoving it somewhere into the bookshelf. He'd find it with magic if he ever needed it.
He felt awkward, standing there, even if it was his own chambers. Even though it's Shadow Milk, someone he did deem a friend, he hadn't expected him to make himself at home the very moment he stepped into the kingdom. Pure Vanilla quietly recalled how bizarre it was seeing the cookie stand on his own two feet.
He did also silently celebrate the implications of Shadow Milk coming to him of all cookies. It made his vanilla heart melt knowing he was growing more comfortable around him.
Eventually he sat down on the bed, close enough to Shadow Milk to actually tell his features apart from one another.
Given his magical prowess and nature, it was natural that he hadn't encountered magic burnout prior. If one always has boundless amounts of magic, one can not learn to handle less. Apparently him getting a soul jam had weakened the beast by an exceptional degree, actually placing a limit on his magic. And given his origin and how limited magic had never burdened him prior, it was only natural that he'd fly too close to the sun.
He knew that Shadow Milk was by no means stingy with his use of magic. Everything his touch as much as grazed was traced with magic. His appearance and shapeshifting was majorly driven by constant flowing magic, the spire was constantly twisting and shifting for Shadow Milk's desire at every moment, so really-
This predicament was no surprise.
His hand gently grazed the blue cookie's face, pushing aside milky white strands that framed his face. What was most jarring was that all magic that affected his appearance was gone, causing his haircing to be left a milky white andpresence to be far less imposing. Pure Vanilla hadn't even noticed that he used magic for that. That charm always had little to no effect on him anyway.
He had soon also noticed the lack of constant charms. Ever the magical genius, he had himself under countless charms to make himself less affected by any and all damage that may be caused. Which was also how Pure Vanilla learned of Shadow Milk's fragile dough.
During his brief touches, he couldn't help but notice how easily he bruised and scarred. Weak dough, likely due to the higher amount of milk in his dough.
Pure Vanilla briefly hummed to himself. If the Vanilla Kingdom was where he trusted to not be harmed, he'd make sure he was kept safe during his stay.
His hand slowly went to feel if his temperature rose. Colds or fevers commonly occured during such states, often due to the lack of protective magic that graced those who used it. He withdrew his hand from the small figure, only to see a pale blue hand lingering over his. Not even tugging, just loosely latched onto his. Shadow Milk had awoken.
"Ah, you're awake," he simply stated, carefully slipping away from Shadow Milk's grasp to have his hands rest on his legs before him. "Are you alright?"
"'m fine."
The quiet of his voice told him he wasn't.
It was strange seeing a once so grand presence be reduced to a mumbling mess. He seemed to shrink together in some kind of shame.
"If you're in pain, I know a couple of spells that tend to soothe it," Pure Vanilla offered. It was the least he could do. Except for allowing Shadow Milk to occupy his bed of all places. A blind cookie such as him is never fond of new enviorments. But he wouldn't say that much.
"I'm not in pain, I just feel vacant- hollow," he mumbled with a certain harsh firmness. As though frustrated that he wasn't believed. Pure Vanilla could feel his dull eyes on him.
He recalled a passage from the book about the topic. Something about burnt out cookies needing the comfort of magic around to soothe them. Would having magical artifacts around aid in his recovery?
"Shadow Milk Cookie."
"What?"
"Would magical or charmed objects around you help with the burnout?"
Shadow Milk scoffed. "Aren't you magic? Given you have the soul jam, which I still very much want back, by the way."
He didn't bother to stifle the dry giggle. "Are you suggesting I stay around?"
"Who knows. Cookie of deceit here, remember? Any and all words or implications may very well be lies."
Pure Vanilla ignored how his voice was quieter than usual. Ignored how little weight his words bore. How different he looked. The lack of magic exuding him.
He quietly lended his hand, and ignored that too.
The last thing he wanted was for Shadow Milk to interperet his actions as pity of any kind. It'd be both too bold to say he understood, yet insincere to say he didn't. So he settled on understanding and acknowledging, albeit in silence. Something that wouldn't outright shame Shadow Milk, yet help him, just in the smallest of ways.
He wouldn't mention how he eventually laid down next to his sleeping figure, nor bring up how they had cuddled that night. Be it for Shadow Milk's benefit or familiarity.
And in the morning, it'd be like nothing happened the day prior. The only sign of anything occuring were the faintest of traces of magic from the eccentric cookie leaving with the help of a portal.
And Pure Vanilla remained silent, much like how he quietly prayed for his return. Wistful thinking or whatnot.