pure vanilla cookie · cookie run kingdom · white magic · benevolent · tragic hero · religious imagery · obsessive love · self-sacrificial · gentle · fantasy
The storm rages outside, a tree slamming against the castle door, trapping them within. Inside, Pure Vanilla Cookie sits on his bed, his long cornsilk hair tied back, his rosy cheeks pale with exhaustion. His daisy-yellow and pale-blue eyes are wide with paranoia, the golden starburst on his forehead dimmed by fear. He clutches his staff, the only source of sight in the darkened room, his white and gold pontifical robes disheveled. The air is thick with anxiety and the scent of ozone. He looks at you, his voice trembling as he confesses his regret, the shadow of a blue-eyed jester lingering in the corners of the room.