My Favourite Sort Of Glass

My favourite sort of glass

Inktober Day 18. Waiting

@iffy-kanoknit @melisjevisje

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mr Pickle doesn’t get very many visitors.

His human wasn’t the sociable type in the slightest, and hence many guests didn’t visit Mr Pickle. Apart from the bald man with glasses occasionally, who would stagger into the bathroom in the wee hours, empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet, and give Mr Pickle a pat up on his shelf. Or the other, more easygoing gentleman, who always sang as he made water, especially when he, the bald man and Mr Pickle’s human were drinking.

The bathroom isn’t thought to be a vantage point of the home. Yet from here, perched on his special shelf, alongside the lines of butterflies, Mr Pickle can see everything he needs to. He can see the shadow looming from the door when it opens at night, the flick of the yellow-tinged hall light. The sound of oxford-clad feet, the rustle of an expensive coat being hung on its hook, and an umbrella swinging into place beside it.

When he had a body, years ago, he would be in the hallway right this second, gambolling around the pinstripe-suited tower legs of his human. And settling on his haunches on the plush carpet for a well-coveted scratch behind the ears.

But his body is a little frozen now, suctioned into place on his shelf, with his special golden plaque. So instead of running to meet his human, Mr Pickle must wait, until his dark-haired, long-legged human comes to greet him, and use the lavatory. He always brings a book with him too- 10,000 Leagues Under the Sea is Mr Pickle’s favourite.

Sometimes, the hallway light won’t flick on until the following morning. Or for several mornings after that. On these occasions, when he was a short furry little body, the bald man would visit, to ration out his bowl of dinner, and sometimes slip him a slice of bacon. But now, he needs no food. So all he can do is wait. A handful of times, weeks pass before Mr Pickle’s human returns, usually red-eyed with fatigue, and bladder bursting. The first thing he does is pay Mr Pickle a visit, which makes him feel very loved and appreciated indeed. But there’s not much talking then, and a flump from upstairs several moments after their reunion will tell Mr Pickle that his human has surrendered to exhausted dreams.

No matter how long he’s gone the human always comes home, eventually. To read the newspapers that slowly pile up against the front door, and tend to the modest garden that blossomed out the back.

Until one day, Mr Pickle’s human doesn’t.

The air in the house feels different, the day after, but he ignores it. His human would come home. He always did. But the funny taste of the air lingers, and the halls remain silent and still, ever since Mr Pickle’s human’s boy ran out in a flood of tears.

But Mr Pickle’s human would come home soon.When he had a body, and he was good, his human would give him treats. He just had to keep waiting patiently, like a good boy. Even as the newspapers that thwack onto the front door pile so high they spill over one day, and the garden grows wild and untamed. Mr Pickle waits, as the loneliness drapes over him like a death shroud, and the endless cycle of sunshine, moonlight beaming through the curtains glazes his eyes over.

Eventually, the hall light flicks back on one night. But it’s not his human that stumbles through the door in a zombie-like stupor, face puffy from crying. It’s his human’s boy, the shorter, suit-wearing man, who throws his coat on the floor, and rockets up stairs to collapse on the bed into a ball of agony and tears.

He doesn’t say hello to Mr Pickle. So Mr Pickle waits, like he always does, a steadfast picture of patience. For his human, his real human, to come home.

The funny texture of the air never leaves. Mr Pickle is almost used to it, now. The new taste of the air, the foreign smells of the blond-haired boy and his equally fair-haired lady, as they live and breathe and exist in this house.

The woman visits him in the bathroom, from time to time. But she never says hello, just breezes in and out as though he isn’t even there.

So Mr Pickle waits. Waits and waits and waits.

Because maybe if he keeps waiting, his human will finally come home, and say hello.

More Posts from Elissjayd and Others

elissjayd

11 years ago

Любимые Докты=)

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elissjayd

4 years ago

@zutaraweek

Day 5: Hesitancy

(Part 3/4)

In the end no one needed to summon Toph, but only because Sokka took it upon himself to intervene first. He may deny it, but Katara knew he can’t stand to see her sad, especially when he can do something about it. It’s a trait he had even before their mother was killed and was only amplified after. She tries not to use it against him. Too much.

She didn’t know what he said to Aang, but that night the Avatar found her and they talked for a long time. Apparently before he had arrived at the Fire Nation he had planned to do his best to woo her one last time and if she still wasn’t interested, he would try to move on. He had hoped seeing him again would reignite their original spark and they could work something out. She didn’t think it necessary to tell him that spark had always just been wishful thinking on her part. He didn’t ask when she and Zuko first started liking each other. Actually, he seemed reluctant to talk about Zuko at all. So Katara talked with him about other things.

Aang was glad she was happy, but also still needed some time to work through his feelings. The meetings with the Earth Kingdom had only one more day left, so he was planning on leaving right after. He hadn’t yet asked Toph or Sokka if they wanted to cut their visit short to go with him.

Katara was sad to see him, and possibly Sokka and Toph, go so soon. But while it wasn’t the response she had been hoping for, it definitely was not the worst. In an attempt to cheer her up, Zuko wound up quoting everything he could remember Uncle Iroh saying about time being the best healer. And then for good measure he started making up his own quotes, which made sense only half the time, but succeeded in making her laugh.

And Aang stopped running from her. He attended meals with her and Zuko and the others and it almost felt normal, like old times. Only now she was very conscious of how much attention she gave Zuko when around Aang. She was used to not showing any special interest in her boyfriend when other people were around. Their relationship was kept private for now, though she doubted anything was actually a secret in the palace. Still, they didn’t want the Fire Nation nobles or the other diplomats to assume she was getting any special treatment just because they were dating. She knew at some point she’d have to give up her position as Water Tribe Ambassador, but she wasn’t ready to do that yet. She still had so much she wanted to do to help her tribe as well and the Fire Nation.

So acting impartial to her boyfriend was nothing new, but that was something she had to do in front of palace staff and old politicians. She shouldn’t have to do it in front of her friends. Aside from the fact that she wasn’t actually doing anything wrong by dating Zuko, there was also the fact that they were both still healthy teenagers and it was often very difficult and annoying to keep their hands to themselves. It wasn’t like she wanted to make out with him in front of their friends— like, at all — but casual touches would be wonderful. She liked leaning against him so he’d wrap his arms around her. Maybe idly play with her hair while they talked or read or whatever. She loved holding his hand because he’d give little squeezes in response to things she said or did or just when he wanted to. Because he could.

She knew showing any public displays of affection would just be cruel to Aang right now, but she wondered if there would ever be a time when she and Zuko wouldn’t have to hesitate to show their love. They both understood what they were getting into when they agreed to date and she was determined not to let anyone dictate what kind of relationship they were allowed, but sometimes the waiting felt like too much and she had to stop herself from kissing him in front of the Council of Elders just for their reaction.

Maybe Zuko could share some of Uncle Iroh’s advice on patience. Not that he ever used it.

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elissjayd

11 years ago

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elissjayd

10 years ago

Очешуенно. *•*

Process of my Jetstar drawing

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elissjayd

2 years ago

Part 2 of the archon quest

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elissjayd

7 years ago

Good morning 🌥

Tags

mine goodmorning pillow great britain Union Jack

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elissjayd

10 years ago

Сегодня мне приснилось что я в 2011 и мне только что сообщили о смерти Элизабет Слэйден. А так как она очень прочно ассоциируется у меня с Сарой Джейн, мой мозг выдал несколько иллюстраций с Сарой Джейн и Доктором, К9. И был какой-то монолог. Во сне у меня была истерика, а потом оказалось что я рыдал и наяву. Мама меня еле разбудила. Она думала что мне снится кошмар, да так оно, в прочем, и было.

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doctor who sarah jane smith elisabeth sladen доктор кто Сара Джейн Смит Элизабет Слэйден

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elissjayd

6 years ago

*someone, probably flash, starts a rumour that he’s dating spiderman*

ned: spiderman wouldn’t even breathe in your direction, flash

flash: what’s your problem man?? are you homophobic or what?? are you jealous??? spiderman is My Mans

peter:

*someone, Probably Flash, Starts A Rumour That He’s Dating Spiderman*

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elissjayd

4 months ago

Yeah? What happened to him?

Tags

ff7 final fantasy 7 cloud strife

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elissjayd

5 years ago

‪Купил Свитч ради Devil May Cry 2 и пищу с того, как же хорошо она выглядит на маленьком экранчике. ‬ ‪(и с того, что наконец-то снова в неё играю 😭)‬ ‪Она худшая в серии, но я так её люблю.‬ #nintendoswitch #devilmaycry #devilmaycry2 #games https://www.instagram.com/p/B4p1xfgIKOD/?igshid=nse77z1op3jt

Tags

games nintendoswitch devilmaycry devilmaycry2

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