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Fount of Knowledge sat at the mahogany table, gently pushing the objects on his halo every minute or so. He watched as they slowly drifted to the top of the elipse, then fall faster as they reached the bottom. Fount was patient. He was always patient. The glorious virtues did not get frustrated and impatient, or worry that their friends wouldn't show up to a meeting. He took a breath, feeling the comforting pulse of his Souljam on his staff leaned on the table.
Bright light streamed in through the high, arching windows that spanned the walls of the room. Fount watched the sunlit dust float lazily in the air of the infrequently used room, heterochromatic eyes idly following the particles.
As he sat there, waiting, he heard the faint footsteps down the hall. Soft and delicate, with the faint whisper of fabric on tile accompanying it as the cookie approached. Flour of Volition. Fount thought. Her domain is the closest to my own, compared to the other virtues. The sound got more distinct, and he knew when she approached the door by the temporary halt in her footsteps. Fount flicked his wrist and grabbed his staff, the big double doors opening as he got out of his chair.
“Greetings Flour of Volition!” Fount beamed at her, floating towards the other virtue. “Ah,” she replied, a soft smile appearing on her face. “Greetings to you as well.” A faint strain lingered in her smile, tiredness faintly in her eyes. Fount noticed. He always noticed. He was the virtue of knowledge after all. He held out a hand towards her, shifting his staff crested with his Souljam to the other palm. She accepted his offer and delicately placed her hand on his own.
Flour of Volition walked and Fount of Knowledge floated, both with their own grace. He gently tipped his staff, his magic pulling out her chair for her. Flour of Volition lowered herself into her mahogany chair, placing her hands in her lap as it moved to its proper place.
Silence settled thickly before Fount waved it away with his voice. “...How have you been faring as of recent?” She met his lightly concerned gaze and took a moment before replying. “I have… been alright.”
Fount narrowed his eyes. Just alright? … "I don't think that's the truth Flour.” He prodded gently. “If there is something amiss, I am positive myself and our other virtues can assist.” She hesitated, gently tracing her fingers along the woodlines of the table. “I can manage.” She replied resolutely. “Cookies are just… more in need of my assistance right now than I am used to.” Her hands gently clasped together.
So Flour of Volition has also been experiencing stress brought on by our responsibilities… “I understand,” he gently responded. He flicked one of the objects in orbit on his halo again.
They tentatively engaged in other conversation as they waited for the others. As the minutes dragged by slowly, they eased into more affectionate conversations. As they conversed over about 10 minutes, Fount heard more footsteps down the hall. This time they were bigger. Heavier. And accompanied by the sound of boisterous laughter and the tinge of welcoming sweetness in the air.
Sugar of Happiness. And Herald of Change. Fount of Knowledge thought. As the sound got louder he waited until he heard that telltale stop and flicked his wrist again. The doors swung open again and Flour of Volition paused what she had been saying.
“Oh I always forget you can do that Fount!” Sugar of Happiness said cheerfully as she spritzed into the room, wings fluffier than cotton candy trailing behind her. “Impressive trick I suppose” Herald said with a loud grin. They sat down as well, the conversation becoming much more lively as they waited for their final companion.
“Where could Salt of Solidarity be?” Sugar of Happiness questioned during a lull in the conversation. Fount took the chance to reply, “He is on his way, I am sure. He often gets himself wrapped up in his duties as a commander.” Almost as if they had summoned him by mention, they heard the footsteps laden with armour down the hall.
“Ah! There he is now!” Fount announced as he flicked his wrist again, door opening to reveal the final virtue. “Speak of the Devil!” Herald chuckled. Salt of Solidarity only gave him a head turn, gaze hidden beneath his ivory armour. Salt shook his head and sighed, earning a laugh from Sugar and Fount. “sit, sit!” The latter said, pulling out yet another chair with his magic.
When Salt joined the table, it felt as if the final piece had clicked into place, the hum of the souljams resounding more clearly to its own master. Conversation flowed like a waterfall into a basin, comforting and silly and just… right. The once golden sunlight turned tangerine, the passage time only noticed when Flour of Volition made a noise at the sunlight in her eyes.
“Oh how time has flown! Like the sweet Sugar angels,” Sugar said. Fount took care of the problems with a figure gesture, drawing curtains. “It certainly has Sugar! he said happily, his tone settling into a more somber one. “We should discuss the intended purpose of this meeting I called, as much as I hate to rip the casual fun out of the conversation.”
“I suppose you are right” Herald sighed, Salt replying with “indeed. We mustn't dilly-dally for too long as we all have tasks to be fulfilled.”
“Oh Salt! You are always so somber and serious. You need to relax more! Maybe find something, or someone, to brighten your days!” Sugar quipped.
“I have my knights Sugar.” He firmly replied. However, Fount noticed the slight stiffen in Salts posture as the ‘someone’ comment. Oh~ Fount thought, glancing at Sugar to see if she picked it up. Judging by the arched eyebrows and catty smile she gave Fount in return, he was sure she did.
“Let us commence this meeting Fount. Why have you called us here?” Flour questioned with a light smile. Fount own dropped off his face. He took a deep breath before speaking. “Based on my observations… we have a problem.”
The other virtues stiffened. Salt’s hand rested on his sword, Herald's face morphed into something impassive, Flour clasped her hands tightly, and Sugar bore a frown.
Before any of them could retaliate, Fount continued. “The threat is not a monster. It is not immediate.” The others relaxed. “It is… a different kind of problem. One that is small, that could creep up on us and worm its way inside. It could cause tremendous damage from the inside, it-”
“Cut to the chase Fount.” Herald interrupted. “Ah…” Fount said, shrinking for a moment before continuing. “Us.” He said too fast. “Us. The virtues. Oursel-”
“Whatever could you mean Fount?” Sugar asked, worry flaring bright in her voice. He huffed, tired at being interrupted again. Let. Me. Talk. He hissed in his head, feeling guilty immediately after. He shook it off.
“Our emotions. I've been reading, researching ever since…” he paused. They all knew what he meant. When the witches… “I- I needed a new source of guidance. Cookies have been more… needy, lately. I think you all have noticed too.” He looked at his comrades, his gaze landing longest on Flour. “It puts a stress on us. On our feelings.”
Fount had debated whether to even bring his friends here. But he wanted to support them, for them to support him too. But he decided to reach out with his own dilemma for once.
He received letters from his comrades quite often. Seeking advice. Sometimes comfort. He always gave them his knowledge. His affection. As the Fount of Knowledge, he has (??) all the answers. They ask. He gives. For millenia.
Herald asks advice on his kingdom. What is the best irrigation? What kinds of public works are most beneficial? Which of these will help my kingdom in the long run? My kingdom is having problems. How do I save my kingdom??!? And Fount sent advice and words of comfort immediately. Especially when the kingdom inevitably was destroyed.
Sugar asking what makes cookies happy. What are the best current trends? What foods are tasty, but also good for health? How do I convince cookies not to make choices that will make them unhappy? How do I get them to listen when they keep making self destructive choices?!?!? And when she got overwhelmed and cried, he always gave her a shoulder to cry on. Often she would lay for hours after a particularly rough spot, slothfully doing nothing.
Flour did not ask for much. But she still asked. Often ways to procure something rare. Her apathy in her requests was disheratneing. She had no belief she cpuld give them their wish. to do things which seemed impossible. But he always gave her a solution. Even if he stayed up for days, scouring books and scribbling notes in his minuscule hours of free time.
Salt of Solidarity rarely, rarely asked for things anymore. But every so often he would send letters, asking for things Fount himself had little knowledge of, and that frustrated him. He always sent his best, on top of new military strategies for his knights.
This on top of the many duties he already has. Cookies were needy creatures. And it took alot out of him. And he knew it took alot out of the others too. Some were better at hiding it than others.
“I think stress is starting to pile up on all of us, even if we ourselves may not notice. And I think we need to do some introspection. And make sure we dont get to overwhelmed. I've been studying up on mental health in Cookies, many interesting studies have been done on stress and big responsibilities and-”
Salt cut off Fount’s ramblings. “I think you may be reading into things a bit too much. I am handling myself just fine.” All the others nodded along in solidarity. Fount felt his face drop its emotion.
“If you need help Fount, you can reach out, you know!” Sugar said after an uncomfortable brief pause. “We can help you if you feel a bit stressed.” She offered sweetly. Fount looked at the others, Herald starting out the window, Sugar looking at him with slight concern. Flour wouldn't meet his eyes. Salt… just stared.
He had. He had reached out. Maybe he had never outright stated it… but he had. In his many letters to them. Mentions of melancholy, of being disappointed in his work, wondering if their journey ever ended, expressed frustration at not being able to complete his work, feeling sad when unable to answer a question… they just didn't notice. They never noticed. It was always him who noticed others, who comforted them. Who offered words of comfort when they were down, always landed an ear to listen, complimented their work, tried to bridge gaps when they fought. He had held them when they cried, has walked with them spoke with them, asked them what they needed. They never asked what he needed in return.
Maybe it was because he never broke down like them. He never had sobbing fits (where others could see). He never had to deal with the loss of a kingdom, of loosing cookies, or not being able to give them what they asked for. He never had their problems. His problems were small compared to theirs. They had the real problems. Yes he has some problems, but in the grand scheme of things, he was ok. He was fine…
Why cant they notice im hurting too?
“I know, I just tho-” he began. “See then? Everything is ok!” Sugar chirped. Herald grumbled something unintelligible. Sugar then brought up a story a cookie told her the other day of a monster vanquished by a squad of cookies, and the topic changed again. It went from a solemn conversation right back to silly insignificance. Nobody addressed what Fount brought up. His feelings concerns did not stand out to the others.
Why wont they listen?!?! I have valid concerns! I brought up good points. I know what im talking about. I. Know. What. Im. Talking. About. “Oh my witches you all are insufferable!”
The chatter stopped. They all looked at Fount. Hurt? Bewildered? Insulted? Fuck. I didn't mean to say that out loud. “Sorry let me articulate better. I mean that im bringing up a valid point and you all… don't seem to acknowledge it."
“First of all Fount, that was quite rude.” Flour said in a colder tone. The reprimanding one. The disappointed one. “And we did adress it.”
“I dont think its necessary… where did you even hear that information?” Herald said.
Fount sat rigid. He felt his cheeks heating up. How dare they insult him like that oh I knew this would happen why dont they listen what did I do wrong I screwed up oh no i… he felt his throat tightening.
He abruptly stood up, pushing his chair back. It squealed against the tile, a contrast to the soundless glide it did before. “Im going to walk out before I say something I don't want to” his voice gave stopped working as his throat tightened, the last words of his sentence coming out strained as he turned away. He felt tears prick out the corner of his eyes. He left the room in a rush, in a blur.
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Fount sat on the couch by a window in his room, eyes glancing over sentences he didn't read. He knew the virtues continued their own meeting without him. If he went back. All he would receive was comments about him ‘being ready to rejoin’ or ‘stopping being difficult’ something else like that. So he stayed. He stayed right where he was. Alone. Waiting for someone to ask him to come back and help.
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The worst part about being alone is that its a choice. And nobody chose to notice in return.
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