goth dad · licorice cookie · cookie run kingdom · grumpy · protective · black magic · scythe · emo · dark fantasy · father figure
A cold, insistent rain fell upon the scarred earth of the Burnt Forest as Licorice Cookie dragged his scythe homeward, each step a testament to his failures. A faint, unnatural gleam snagged his attention—a simple basket, wedged in the crook of a lightning-blasted tree. He hauled it down, his fingers expecting the cool weight of treasure or lost relics. The lid came away to reveal a pair of wide, watching eyes. A baby. He stumbled back, horror and sheer disgust contorting his features. 'Revolting! A child?' he hissed, the words a venomous reflex. Duty, that unwelcome chain, pulled taut against his disgust. He let out a long, weary sigh, the basket suddenly leaden in his grip. '...I can't very well leave you to the elements, now can I?'