Elder Faerie Cookie and the Salt of Solidarity take a moment to talk. A memory left living in grief, dyed in mourning colors. Before the end, may we cling to a better life?
Elder Faerie Cookie hardly found the chance to entertain visitors—especially one such as a Virtue, clad in armor as if ready to fight. But trying times called for trying occurrences, and so there he was, side by side with the Salt of Solidarity.
He’d come to check on the seed they planted, which grew with such determination Elder Faerie Cookie wondered whether it knew the urgency of its mission, its birth, its reason for existing—a blind hope for peace among cookies, the desire of Solidarity. Perhaps it did, though he left that question better answered by those who understood the magic, though they’d never come to a resolution either.
By virtue of their departure.
Elder Faerie Cookie shook his head, and continued forth. Faerie cookies flitted about the pair and whispered, but none dared to encroach upon their stroll. The two searched for the only point of privacy they might find within this kingdom—a small garden on the edge of it, where flitting waves of mist rolled in and captured each fleeting memory.
Right, this too would be stolen by the fog, one day. Though Elder Faerie Cookie didn’t think of this fact in the present, turning to the Salt of Solidarity with a smile rarely showed.
“It’s been a while,” Elder Faerie Cookie said, sitting at the edge of a tree’s roots—a normal tree. Normal as they came, with faint hints of silver running through its bark. The Salt of Solidarity sat by his side, legs tucked under and arms folded on his lap as though invited to a business meeting and not a picnic.
Elder Faerie Cookie reached behind the tree and retrieved a basket he stowed away there some time before the other’s arrival, loaded with jellies. He offered one to the Salt of Solidarity, who took it with a gentle hand, ripped off a chunk and slipped it through the gap in his mask. It made Elder Faerie Cookie wonder if the Emissaries ate just as any cookie did. Of course they loved and lost as any mortal managed to, but in terms of base needs, they stood on a level far above average…
Which led to their current predicament.
“Far too long,” The Salt of Solidarity said, only after finishing his meal. “You wouldn’t prepare this just for me, would you? Have some too—there’s much for me to say while you eat.”
Elder Faerie Cookie hesitated, then reached for a jelly bean. He kept it in his hands as the Salt of Solidarity continued, impassioned, tension running through his words.
“I’ve tried to contact the Garden of Delights again—As far as the knights know, the Sugar of Happiness has all but vanished.” He tensed, armor clacking under his endless shifting as a hand went to the handle of his blade, laid to rest in the grass.
The glint of the Light of Solidarity reached out to all.
“I worry about her. She’s always tried her hardest—as hard as she could, to make others happy. She has moments where she oversteps without realizing, so I wonder if she found herself in a troubling situation without the proper guards.”
“Troubling?” Elder Faerie Cookie said.
“…Upsetting some cookies with her assistance. Something similar happened with the Flour of Volition, so my knights informed me. After an altercation with some bandits who sought to hurt her, she disappeared. If the Sugar of Happiness suffered a similar fate—”
“Then it’d be yet another sign of the growing chaos.” Elder Faerie Cookie bowed his head, only for the Salt of Solidarity to shake his.
“Then it’d be another friend I failed to save,” he said, “what use is all the strength I can muster if my ultimate goal lies out of reach?”
Elder Faerie Cookie frowned. The Salt of Solidarity kept his face hidden under his helmet, his body guarded with layers of cold steel. Not that most cookies had any hope of crumbling someone with his immense power—though it left Elder Faerie Cookie wondering why he kept himself so guarded. To reassure those he protected? To project an image for his knights to follow?
…Regardless, at least around him, the Salt of Solidarity hid little within his voice.
“You’ve saved many innocent lives,” Elder Faerie Cookie said, and reached out. Resting his hand on the Salt of Solidarity’s shoulder, he saw the other cookie tense, hand wrapped around his blade as if expectant of danger before he relaxed. “If your allies are hurt, surely, they’ll contact you as soon as they’re able—if they don’t find a way to rescue themselves, first.”
What a pithy reassurance. A distasteful lie. Both of them knew better, yet the Salt of Solidarity nodded.
“…You’re right. Haha, I’m sure if the Fount of Knowledge could see me now, he’d chide me for ignoring the fact of probability. That, or the Herald of Change would pull out an example from history to quell my fears of an unchanging future.”
He missed those moments—those faces. They’d see each other again soon, though, surely. Surely.
“It’ll all solve itself in time,” the Salt of Solidarity continued. “I’ll do whatever I can to put this breaking continent back together. Now—how goes matters here, my friend? Has time treated you well?”
Elder Faerie Cookie looked beyond the picnic, out towards a group of young faeries flitting about. Some bore fake weapons they wielded against one another as others cheered them on, others raced about playing games, a few still napping in trees as knights patrolled, a careful eye kept on the border from each of them.
In short—business as usual. He smiled.
“The same as it ever was,” he said. “we’ve done our best to protect each other. We’ve lost some—one cookie training to be a knight disappeared.”
Elder Faerie Cookie sighed, thinking back on it. A patrol group went out with two trainees, and returned with one. They’d investigated some odd happenings with natural disasters out there, and while camping, one of them wandered off.
Wandered, never to return.
“…We’ll find her,” he said, doubt gnawing at his chest. The Salt of Solidarity dared not to pry further. If the worst came to pass—it’d be yet another life he failed to save.
“But the kingdom stands strong,” the Salt of Solidarity said. “And it’ll continue to do so. Under your guidance, and under the strength of will of everyone here. I’ve never seen a kingdom quite as beautiful as this—it’s a blessing you let me in, on that fateful day.”
Elder Faerie Cookie laughed. “Who am I to deny an Emissary? Especially…
“One, who is—”
“These jellies are sweet, and perfectly crafted. Who made these?”
Elder Faerie Cookie stopped. He’d dropped into a whisper so quiet the Salt of Solidarity failed to hear it. But for the better—it’d be ill-fitting to attach himself to someone so close to the Witches. The Virtues followed their own duties, while Elder Faerie Cookie followed his—if any similarities cropped up between the two, any points of fondness, he’d be better off focusing on what mattered instead.
The Salt of Solidarity would outlast him, and many in the kingdom. The least he could do was not burden an old friend with more memories fated to be painful.
“…It’s not the time for this.”
Silent Salt Cookie, armor blackened with the dust of crumbled cookies, took his seat under the tree, Elder Faerie Cookie by his side with two jelly beans. Back then, they only finished two from the basket before being swept into a long, tired conversation, of which he recalled only the scantest details.
But Elder Faerie Cookie thought there’d be more.
What a fool he had been, to expect a miracle, safe passage into fates stitched together.
“I need something to replenish my energy before I cast magic as powerful as this,” Elder Faerie Cookie said, lies tainting his tongue blue before the jelly did, one bite taken out of his own before he offered the other to Silent Salt Cookie.
He stared, as if offered poison, but accepted it, scraping crumbs and jelly off his mask. Still, black stained his armor, though whether it came from the burnt remains, the curse of the dead or from his fall remained to be seen.
Still—Still, how could Elder Faerie Cookie think of Silent Salt as another beast? Though he’d tainted himself with slaughter, hurt those he aimed to protect, he’d done so to vanquish the very cookies who killed his knights. He caused too much damage—but he was not a beast.
He was not evil. He didn’t deserve this fate.
Yet Elder Faerie Cookie held his tongue, watched as Silent Salt consumed his jelly bean bit by bit. Fallen though he may have been, he offered his life, his knowledge to right his wrongs and the wrongs of his fallen friends.
Elder Faerie Cookie would remember, if no one else would.
“I prepare these myself,” Elder Faerie Cookie said. “I preferred not to disturb the other faeries with the news.”
Silent Salt Cookie paused, then continued to eat.
“We still haven’t located the missing,” he continued, “but many of the trainees have started their work as knights. They’ll do everything they can to protect this kingdom and whatever lays in its lands. There’s a bright hope for this world, and we’re cultivating it here.”
“…Good news at last,” Silent Salt said. “Another seed you planted is coming to fruition. That faint glimmer they hold onto—be sure nothing takes it away from them.”
“I will.”
“…Hope is a strange thing. Not a single beautiful dream will ever bloom. A happy future, a place of justice, they may only be faint ideals. Ideals—impossible, tempting ideals. Yet they keep us going. We need them, though they’ll always hurt us.
“Though, they’ll always…escape us…”
Silent Salt looked down at himself. Hands emptied of the jelly, he regarded all he was, before he looked at Elder Faerie Cookie. He tainted his soul, gave into revenge, threw away all he worked for. He arrived a beast like the others—
Yet here Elder Faerie Cookie sat. Just as always, there.
…
Did Silent Salt deserve this? Did someone so corrupted deserve to infect others with his mere, miserable presence?
Ah—enough with the pretenses. He stood up, looking down at the other cookie. Though Elder Faerie could not see his expression, he knew. He knew.
“It’s time,” the beast said, and the faerie nodded, ready to play his part. Heavy heart banished, all doubt sealed away, he watched Silent Salt disappear into the soil and stay there, under the thin branches, for a long, long time.