Heartbroken.

Betrayed. Staying by herself if she can help it.

Hating all that reminds her of the blasted witches.

Ugh.

Cyn.er

I'VE MADE A CHARACTER QUESTION FORM! Finally :)
forms.gle/2K4VvUQqtdvR...

here comes the bride, better run and hide!

There's too many bad memories... Too many memories there...

Wandering out of the cabin for once...?

She's just kept herself here after the events...

How can she go on?

Shattered. Broken. Unforgiving... That's how her heart is now.

... Is that someone in the forest?

I'm not sure what the definition of 'happy' is, but I know that it's not 'this.'

You can't go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.

I will not be another flower picked for my beauty and left to die. I will be wild, difficult to find, and impossible to forget.

"Go to hell" Oh honey, where do you think I came from?

Solitude in the cabin hidden in the dark forest, eyes from the cookie no longer having their sparkle, that joy and hope being long forgotten.

The cookie who had been so in love with the witches, now was seething with hatred against them as some cookies did, her lovey dovey trance broken, and now she rests in solitude, her heart broken and unforgiving after the world had thrown her against the metaphorical wall which had broken her spirit.

The veil has been discarded with the dress, and still burned and torn hanging on the railing just like the white dress.

The cigarette doesn’t seem to even have been smoked, just being set alight and cindering against the dough holding it. The more casual clothing, being a black and dark cherry red compared to the brown cookie adorned with the outfit.

The white dress and the dark cherry bouquet are gone, the once so cherished sweet smashed on the ground nearby from that morning. The dress hangs from the railing, torn and burned, receiving a sharp look from the cookie, seething with hatred towards the formerly cherished garment.

The pain doesn’t make anyone forget a thing, especially not after the events of the past week, burning their flesh enough as it seems. The cinders blackening the palm, the lines in the palm revealing slightly brighter dark brown dough as the hand moves around the burning end.

・❥・ꉣꂦꋪ꓄ꋪꍏꌩꍏ꒒ ꌗ꓄ꂦꋪꌩ・❥・

A cigarette, burning their palm as it rests there, to which they could care less. The pain is like an unsharpened, dull, old knife, stabbing into their hand right where the tip cinders against their flesh. It still hurts, but not enough.

She would've made such a lovely bride. What a shame she's fucked in the head.

𝓡𝓾𝓵𝓮𝓼

× 𝓝𝓸 𝓝𝓢𝓕𝓦, 𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓼, 𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼
× 𝓓𝓜'𝓼 𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓾𝓽𝓾𝓪𝓵𝓼 𝓾𝓷𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓲𝓼 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓷
× 𝓕𝓾𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓝𝓢𝓕𝓦 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝓓𝓝𝓘, 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮
× 𝓑𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓘 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓹, 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓯 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸.

𝓜𝓾𝓷 𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓸

× 𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓼 [𝓷𝓸 𝓷𝓮𝓸𝓼 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮]
× 𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓵𝓾𝓲𝓭
× 𝟏𝟖 [𝓪𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼]
× 𝓼𝓱𝔂, 𝓾𝓼𝓾𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓓𝓜 𝓸𝓻 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽, 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝓓𝓜
× 𝓖𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓫𝔂 𝓒𝔂𝓷

[Mun info and rules copied from white lily]

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓼
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#cookierunkingdomrp
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#COOKIERUNPARODY
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・❥・ꉣꀤꈤꈤꍟꀸ ꉣꂦꌗ꓄・❥・

❥ ꒒ꀤ꓄ꍟꋪꍏ꓄ꍟ
❥ ꂵꀎ꒒꓄ꀤ-ꌗꃅꀤꉣ
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