“Oh the Godly Creators, may I be worthy of your love again and may my thoughts not stray away from my fate-”
Her fingers twitched against the bed covers, feeling the rubbery fondant, so different from the soft wedding dress she already grew used to, then expecting to wear till the end. How stained they were from being used through years in the Order, unlike the perfectly displayed, lacey icing on the garments, kept clean until the ceremonial day-
Black Forest sighed, face burying into the mattress in a self soothing manner. There were no conditions for prayer, no matter how desperate she was to speak up to her Beloved, to regain their favour once more. It was already late, deep into the night, with all the children and nuns deep asleep, yet despite that, she kneeled on the floor, like a lover before their heart's chosen one, like a servant before their master, and begged for forgiveness.
The Cookie straightened up, her knees rubbing against the wooden floor, as she tried to pray again. And again. And again.
The tips of her fingers dusted from the tension, dark crumbles falling down onto the bed like dust. Black Forest was desperate and the more she tried, the more she struggled, falling deeper and deeper into her despair.
Since returning back to the Order, her Cake Bride form was gone, the blessing - or the forbidden power, as the younger Sisters whispered in the corners - ripped away from her abilities. She wasn't sure if it was her fault or the doing of the Mother, who could seal the gift, but just the idea that her devotion faltered and thus the Witches took the power out of her very dough was driving the Cookie insane. With each day, she was ensured that it could've been her problem, that her faith wasn’t satisfying the Creators anymore. After all, the Mother spoke about purity of her thoughts, the need to feel dull devotion, the desire to get devoured, just to satisfy her Beloved.
Yet here Black Forest was, crumbling away as a pitiful Cookie. Perhaps, no more worthy of the love she was fated for.
“Dearly Beloved, I'll be faithful, the perfect bride for you. I'll prepare the perfect wedding yet again-”
Just as she caught a trail, focusing on the poem woven in her mind for the Godly, the image of royal icing sneaked between her flowery praise, bloody cherries rolling around her mind like a haunting ghost. With the taste of bitter chocolate on her cheeks, she didn't stop the cacao tears that streamed down her face, choking on her own sobs that build up all too quickly, leaving the Cookie wailing into the pillows. She couldn't even remember which time it was, with her burying her cries in the private four walls, trying to keep the imitation outside that she was still the most faithful believer. It had to be a punishment, a carrot getting dangled before her face, just to be hit with it yet again.
Black Forest watched her dress get dirty with the dark liquid, not daring to stop it - as if the whiteness of the sugary fabric was a solemn reminder of her sin, of her straying away from her path.
Truth be told, her thoughts were stained, far more greatly than her current dress, not even a pitiful imitation of her past wedding suit - the beautiful dress she sewn herself in hiding, away from preying Sister's gazes, a sign of the deviation for Them. Not as beautiful as hers-
Her dreams no longer circulated around the wedding, by her Love accepting the humble Cookie she was. She was no longer distracted by the mesmerizing idea of becoming Their bride, Their only one, no longer eager to get dragged out of the Earthbread to get wed. No, her mind started clinging to this crumbly reality, suddenly finding an excuse to stay and with every thought anchoring her to this feeble place, she felt like being less and less worthy of the land of the Godly Creators.
She strayed from the path.
No nun caught the change yet - she was as quiet as ever and daydreamed even more, but her thoughts shifted, from imagining the wedding ceremony between her frail form and the powerful Witch that created the sugary life she had. Instead, her mind was occupied with sweetened fabrics, papery laces and iced pearls. All the whites and pastels of the familiar now room were ghosts behind Black Forest's eyes, manifesting themselves each time she tried to wake her heart up for prayer. She could almost feel the hardened buttercream of lacy trains, the rich chocolates of ribbons. The warmth of a dough, so similar to hers yet so different.
Wedding Cake Cookie.
Her heart wavered.
At first, it was her mental reasoning - after all, their formula was similar and anything built with the same ingredients would pull to each other, as if the flour in their bodies longed to mix with one another, soft butter molding into one block, crumbs yearning for similarity. Later on, she explained it with the passion of Wedding Cake - she had to be simply in awe of the other Cookie's desire to make her wedding ceremony perfect, just for her happiness. But it grew beyond physical need. Wedding Cake lived in Black Forest's jellied mind and took more and more space, pushing out the Witches like a disease. Two creatures were devouring the chocolatey Cookie, and the wedding planner was winning.
She came in her dreams. Each one was filled with soft chatter, the muffled sound of sugary orbs rolling on the table and an ideal idea for the ceremony. Between the crystalized, caramely flowers and plum cherries, Black Forest was finding herself unable to look away from Wedding Cake Cookie, the gentle ruffle of her dress, the delicious smile on her lips. Each time, she woke up with a picture perfect memory of the shining pearls, the fondant ruffled up around her legs, the fragrant, delicate flowers in creamy hair. And each time, she was more petrified.
Black Forest Cookie wasn't supposed to admire her. She wasn't supposed to love another Cookie.
She was Their bride.
The bride of the Godly Creators. Their beautiful to-be-wed, blooming with love and devotion, tasting like the most divine dessert with her unyielding faith. Not a brief lover of a mere Cookie. Not a bride of a wedding specialist, of all cookies. Not a wife of the nicest Cookie she ever met, that treated her with the kindness she dreamed of from the Witches-
Black Forest gathered herself from the cake roll floor, wiping away the dark strains of her well-baked cheeks. Perhaps it was the room, something in the baked walls that was making her sin. Her steps were light as she stumbled out of the room to the corridor, hobbling to the main Cathedral. Even if she wasn’t fully agreeing with the Orders teachings, going beyond their closed-off minds of not interacting with the Creators, the altar should have a better influence than the small room and a bed, especially before she started to trail her thoughts on the perfectly cut, doughy body.
She would become Their bride. She would embrace her fate. Black Forest Cookie had to.