Chapter Text
Mystic Flour had never been an early riser. Every time she had the chance to sleep in, she would. Alas, being the Flour of Volition meant that her days off were few and far between — nothing like her free days now.
The sun was already casting light rays into her windows, white snow further reflecting the light and brightening the dark citadel.
Cloud Haetae was stoking the fire, lifting fresh logs into the flames. When they noticed her rising, they greeted, "good morning, Master!"
Mystic Flour stretched her arms over her head, yawning, "good morning."
Whilst they still busied themselves with the fire, she stepped to the closet, taking the brush in her stroll. In the mirror the black strand was open amidst the cascade of white hair.
She remembered Eternal Sugar's words too well, even now. Though it was unlikely she'd seen the mark in her hair, Mystic Flour had noticed the pink taint in her wings. A ponder passed her, if she had not been the only one changing.
Of course, there was always Dark Cacao's scars turning white — likely the countereffect to her hair.
A handful of hair hid the black strand, ready to put it up in a bun and secure it with the ebony hairpin.
Yet she couldn't help but wonder if the other's were experiencing similar changes. Maybe not in their hair, yet at least in some shape or form. Her headpiece, holding the Light of Apathy still lay on the nightstand.
It held it's purple hue, silent as ever since the time she'd touched the Light of Resolution. If this was happening to her, it was not unlikely that it happened to her fellow beasts aswell.
The hair fell from her hands, nevertheless she didn't move to gather it again. Rarely had she worn it down — so why not today?
Eternal Sugar was definitely still asleep, and the bearer of the Light of Passion seemingly aswell. Mystic Flour turned to the Haetae, "I'll be gone for breakfast. You can stay here if you would prefer so, or head out."
"Can I go to Eternal Sugar?" They'd always adored visiting the Garden of Delights — afterall, it's mistress often paid attention to them and would even provide scratches, as well as sweet treats. On top of that came the Sugar Angels, always anticing prey.
She stopped before the door, considering the request. "...Do not wake her just yet."
Whilst Mystic Flour was still getting ready, the rest of the citadel had long since buzzed to life. With the rest of extraordinary guests arriving soon, many preperations had to be made. It ranged from providing suitable chambers, to getting the meals ready and most importantly, tidying up the council chamber. Even the pleasant scent of peaches had weaved into the air in the citadel, turning the one or other head towards the kitchen.
Dark Choco nearly finished his breakfast, whilst his father still waited by the door. He was reading a book — or at least pretending to. Glimpsing up at Dark Cacao every once in a while, before looking back down at whatever text he'd picked from the library.
Despite his better attempts to conceal it, the prince had noticed the paling Light of Resolution during one of their patrol strolls. He'd said nothing — switching the blade to his other hand. But Dark Choco had filed it away without commentary.
"You must really believe she'll come," he eventually spoke up, letting the chopsticks rest at the edge of his bowl.
Dark Cacao made a displeased noise, not turning to him, continuing to stand in the doorway and look ahead for the pale guest. "She sounded like she would."
"What about the others?" Dark Choco finally glanced up from his reading, focusing on his father. "Is Hollyberry still asleep?"
"No," he looked over at his son, arms still crossed beneath his coat, "I saw her outside earlier. She has always been an alert individual — often awake before any of us."
"And the beast?" The last piece of rice was picked up and eaten.
"...Deeply asleep."
Dark Choco gathered his plate and cutlery, letting the book lie open, "They make quite a pair."
The king caught the look that was thrown his way. Having such ease with his son after many years of coldness and betrayal was certainly easing a signifact burden. One would have to simply accept that being able to read someone would mean getting read like an open book in return.
"You could also eat breakfast," Dark Choco changed the topic. Something the other should've been grateful for, maybe if it weren't for that direction.
He looked over his shoulder, shooting his son a flat look. "You should not have started eating yet in any case. It is disrespectful."
The chopsticks stopped halfway to his mouth. He put them down again, staying quiet. "...I apologise. Next time, I'll wait."
Dark Cacao caught the dejected tone, realisation washing over him, "Son, I had not meant it in that way. You are an adult, you have survived great perils. As such, I owe you respect as well."
While his expression revealed next to nothing, Dark Choco picked up his chopsticks again and continued to eat. So the king retained his waiting stance, looking down the hallway.
When he was nearly finished with his bowl, Mystic Flour came down the hallway, hands folded primly in front of her. Dark Cacao gave his son a glance, told you so.
"You have waited for me," she stated flatly, rather than asked. The table was set with plenty of dishes and plates, something from nearly every kingdom. Clearly specially prepared — given the prince himself settled on a simple rice bowl.
Dark Cacao nodded as she passed him to sit down, pulling out a chair for herself. "Good Morning, Mystic Flour."
She was not convinced. "...Morning."
Yet as Dark Cacao intended to sit next to his son, the prince rose from his seat with bowl and chopsticks in hand. "I'm finished, father. If I may be excused."
As such, he left the bearers of the Light of Volition alone, heading to the kitchen to drop off his dishes. Dark Cacao watched helplessly as he was left alone, unsure if it had been intentional by his son or not.
Mystic Flour watched him retreat, then looked at Dark Cacao, who now sat opposite to her. "Is there a reason you have invited me here?"
Leaning over to the side and retrieving two bowls, the king gathered his wits. He could've asked the same question, why she had agreed to come, yet deflection was not the point of conversation. "Dark Choco and I simply thought it to be an opportunity for you to get outside before the others arrive." It was not a lie — though the proposal had come from him, the idea for a short respite before the commotion was all the king's thought.
"Dark Choco has left," she accepted the bowl, reaching out to fill it with various things from the set table, breaking apart the chopsticks.
"I am aware." Dark Cacao did the same thing, though most of the items of food he picked were native to the Dark Cacao kingdom. Even then, he waited. Watched as Mystic Flour absently looked at her bowl, twisting a piece of stir fry left and right.
After a while of picking at her food, she noticed. "Is something the matter?"
"...No, nothing."
Mystic Flour was not convinced, prodding, "are your lungs acting up again?"
Dark Cacao shook his head, the slightest flush unnoticed on his cheeks, "It is a custom to wait until the eldest has taken the first bite. It is a sign of respect in my kingom."
Her hands stilled, opening her eyes fully to look at him, somewhat stumped. At last, a huff of air escaped her, softer than a scoff yet not quite a laugh, and she took the first piece. "Quite and old-fashioned tradition."
"I suppose it is."
In the meantime, she'd taken the first bite, thoughtfully glanching down. He was just starting to relax when she added, "though I hope the implication was not to call me old."
Dark Cacao had expected anything but that answer. "It was not."
"Good," she hummed, continuing to eat.
The initial awkwardness from the further lack of conversation seemed to disappate with every passing minute, stemming from the quiet they both preferred. Many years had he spent like this alone — rarely ever with Dark Choco, though that was changing aswell. Having companionship during a meal certainly was something small yet connecting. Even Mystic Flour seemed to mind it less, relaxing her once-ridgid posture.
"How have you been acclimating to the cold?" Dark Cacao eventually spoke up, nodding towards her warm robe. "If you are cold, there's plenty enough warmer things."
Seemingly considering the offer, she shook her head. "No. As you may have come to notice, the Ivory Pagoda did not have the warmest climate either."
"Certainly warmer than here."
"That is true."
She knew Dark Cacao had seen the tapestries she used to weave. Hidden deep within the mountains, her little aclove where Cloud Haetae had led him. Whilst she may be used to the cold, it seemed to have hit them harder than her, oftentimes opting to stay within the citadel walls unlike their liveliness in the pagoda's courtyard. "Do you happen to have some yarn or wool?"
He glanced up, pausing and putting down the chopsticks. "I could organise it. What for?"
"I'd like to make Cloud Haetae a coat or something of the sort. They seem to be colder than I." Mystic Flour answered, pushing a piece of meat around in her bowl.
"It'll be in your chambers before the rest of our guests arrive," he assured.
It was then that Dark Cacao took notice of the black strand that ran down her back, visible just at the nape of her neck. It stuck out like a sore thumb, a deep ebony amidst her pale white hair and complexion.
On the other hand, she seemed not to note his change of attention, "I used to weave garments, other than just simple tapestries. Though it has been some time, Cloud Haetae could use it."
"They are very loyal to you," he answered, attention still split between her words and the mysterious strand of hair.
"That they are." She paused, taking another bite and swallowing. "Many garments the other Virtues used to wear were made from silk from the Ivory Pagoda, some woven by me."
Though he had not met the other Beasts extensively, Dark Cacao remembered the colourful illusions many of them had cast, including Hollyberry's vidid descriptions of the rainbows all around the Garden of Sweet Delights. "I ought to assume those were more colourful?"
"Indeed they were." She sighed, at last putting an elbow on the sturdy wooden table and resting her head on her palm. "I had stopped when more and more people came pouring in, each more desperate than the last."
It came as a surprise to the king. Hundreds, if not thousands of years must've passed since then, and she spoke of it ever so flippantly. "It must have been lost to time since then. I do not know if the tools required still exist."
A huff of air escaped her that was closer to laughter than he'd ever heard from her, "Do not concern yourself with it. Even back in the Silver Tree, Shadow Milk had bugged me until I'd teach him how to weave fabrics. While the Fount of Knowledge was busied with academics, they'd always be interested in the arts. With nothing better to do, Shadow Milk indulged himself." A vein popped at her temple in annoyance at the very memory, "thoroughly."
Teaching the Fount of Knowledge was a concept in itself indeed. "He has long since surpassed my skill in any case."
It didn't seem apathetic in the slightest from her side, helping out her friends even after they'd succumbed to corruption. "It seems unlike the futility you so preach."
"Entropy takes its time, Dark Cacao. We were stripped of our powers and freedom — if it caused less suffering to them, I did not mind it." Her tone carried a certain harshness and resolution rarely shown through her calm gentleness.
The very power and freedom she had now, if she would have chosen to act on it. Although responding to his question, the answer was less convincing to him than she would have liked it to be. Less convincing than she'd like, even to herself.
Dark Cacao chose to nod solemnly, lingering still on the strand of hair. At last, Mystic Flour too discerned his distraction. "If you'd like to say something, do it."
"A strand of your hair has turned black."
"I am aware. You possess a head full of black and white hair — it should not be something unusual to you."
"Mystic Flour."
She straightened back up, folding her hands beneath the table. "I do not know why these changes happen, but they do. If you thought I knew why, you are mistaken."
Instead of theorising and trying to explain it, he cast a calm glance at her. "Then we have no choice but to wait and see what the reason behind it is." They both knew on some level, deep down, yet did not want to overstep on the other by pointing it out.
He had finished his breakfast whilst she had been pushing it around her bowl — years of being a warrior and surviving in the cold had taught him long ago to finish what he had, even now when the kitchens were filled to the brim. As such, he stood up, intending to bring the bowl back, stopping just before turning, "the black does contrast the rest of you nicely."
Instead of leaving straight away, he waited for her response. It was but a mutter under her breath, whilst the tips of her ears seemed to darken just a little bit.
Dark Cacao intended to pass the table, return his dishes to the kitchen. Yet another contrast between black and white caught his eye from the window.
Not as poetic as the first contrast, the thick coat of white snow outside was melted, paving a path of black bricks. "The snow seemes to have melted in a... peculiar way."
Mystic Flour herself got up from her chair, joining him at the window. Indeed, the path into the citadel was a cleared from the snow. "It seems your guest from the Spice Lands has arrived, likely with the golden one," she remarked dryly.
Dark Cacao's eyes widened at the implication. This time, she was the one already heading out. To his surprise, however, she stopped shortly before the door, "the meal was...pleasant. I suppose thanks are in order."
"It was no trouble."
She lingered another moment, before retreating.
At least for him, it was a win, however miniscule. For now, he had to find Golden Cheese and her counterpart, lest anything else melted away. Although the snow was not the only thing melting this serene morning.