Chapter Forty-Six

Reflections

Pitch woke with a startled gasp the events of last night still playing through his mind vividly. Sandy's anguished face, something just two months prior, would have brought him a satisfied smile now made him feel like his chest wanted to cave in on itself. Pitch hoped that the little golden man didn't suffer too much on his account although he supposed he should have been more aware of how badly Sandy could have taken the painting if it had instead angered him. That could have been very bad, but Pitch knew Sandy well enough that he didn't think he'd have hurt him now even if the painting had angered him; either way, Pitch was glad that it hadn't and that when everything had been said and done, Sandy had smiled at him to let him know everything was okay between them. Yet another kindness Pitch didn't feel he deserved.

He sat up, and winced at the sudden remembered strapping he'd endured the morning before; it almost ached worse the second day after the pain had had a chance to settle into his tissue and marinate. Pitch wrinkled his nose slightly miffed to wake with such grievances as he slid out of bed quickly to put less pressure on his pulsating posterior.

The Pole sounded quiet, and Pitch realized by looking through the porthole window that dawn was just barely breaking. Sandy had put him out at around 8PM, so it didn't surprise him he supposed that he would wake at dawn after getting put to sleep so early, still it meant the day would likely seem longer. This would have been a bit upsetting under his current circumstances if it weren't for the fact that despite the grounding, he had so many things to look forward to, namely painting the horse statue North had made him! Just seeing it sitting on his new table brought Pitch a thrill of joy.

He took the couple steps from his bed to the table to admire his statue once more when he saw the sand-made words from Sandy thanking him. A small smile formed on Pitch's lips as he swept the errant sand into his hand thankful again for the added notation from the dream weaver that let him know without a doubt that Sandy was going to be okay. He would have to paint the little golden man something that would truly make him smile Pitch decided then wanting to see only pleasure from the next painting he gave the little star.

He deposited the sand into the waste bin of the cart pushing it outside his room to rest in the hallway flush against the wall outside his door. It was a bit crowded in his room now, and the cart was blocking off the main walkway (not that it mattered, but it made the table less of an obstacle. He wasn't sure when North would be coming up to see him, so Pitch decided to waste some time washing out his clothes to hang on the door and taking a long shower. It wasn't like he had anywhere to go he needed to be dressed for anyway, and as far as he was concerned walking about for a few hours in his robe sounded comforting.

The shower had felt good, and with North having yet to arrive, Pitch decided to grab one of the many books he'd picked from the library, crawled on top of his bed to lay on his stomach, and settled himself in to start reading the Christmas Carol book he'd been meaning to read mostly because North mentioned ghost hauntings in the description.

North had also woke with the rising of dawn, but this wasn't unusual for him, and he'd set about some of his morning routines of checking on the maintenance of many of the machines before the yetis began their day. He had rounds to check a dozen or so a day to insure everything remained in top order before moving to the cafeteria to grab a healthy helping of breakfast foods (North wasn't one to skip a meal.) Alla had been sure to send North with a packaged pastry for Pitch on his way out. By the time he had gathered the primer paint and sculpting supplies for Pitch, it was nearing late morning before North finally came to knock on Pitch's door.

Hearing the knock, Pitch was quick to scramble off his bed and open the door, "North! Do come in!" Pitch had been eagerly awaiting his arrival for some time by now, and it seemed when he was waiting on his return was when it would seemingly feel like North took forever to arrive. Of course his eyes were drawn to all that North was carrying in his arms.

North calmly moved over to the table and set the armfuls of items down. He rummaged through one of the bags pulling out a bulging cloth to hand to Pitch with a hearty chuckle, "Alla thought you might like this."

Pitch reached out gratefully knowing it would be some morsel of food as he unwrapped the cloth to reveal the cinnamon bun hiding underneath. He beamed, "I'll be sure to thank her later." Pitch picked at the flaky crust now pulling off little pieces to nibble on as he watched North lay out the rest of the contents of the bags he brought in.

North watched Pitch a moment shaking his head as he chuckled, "Do you not ever just eat something? It is always peck, peck, like bird. No wonder you're so skinny!"

Pitch chuckled to himself thinking, 'It's no wonder you're so fat!' Of course he'd never say as much out loud both because he feared the consequences of saying as much, but more so now because he wouldn't want to hurt North's feelings. "Not all of us are as used to eating as often as you are North; the way I eat suits me just fine," Pitch smirked.

North's smile broadened as he gave a slight nod, "This is true; you do not need to eat like anyone else but you, Pitch. Now then, come; let me give quick tutorial for paint primer," North waved him over as he spread out a few rags across the table and reached over to grab the horse from the middle of the table.

Pitch moved up beside North studying him with a curious stare and hands loosely folded behind his back.

"Alright; you must shake paint like so," North demonstrated the metal ball within the can rattling about as he did so, "And then, quick burst," he sprayed a fine line across the horse once and then twice, "Ha! Like that!"

"That looks easy enough," Pitch nodded taking in the technique, "So then that's it?"

North nodded, "That is it. Be careful not to spray too much or you may get drips, which is no good."

Pitch looked on at the two strips noting the dull finish on the white ceramic.

"But, before you continue with paint," North grabbed a special rag from the pile of supplies he'd unloaded from the bag and taking the horse in hand pointed to areas on the horse that had small imperfections in the clay, "There are bits that cannot be fixed until ceramic is fired, but with this rag, you can buff out bumps and make smooth." North proceeded to demonstrate on the muzzle of the horse where there was a small ridge; he gently rubbed over the ridge until it faded into the figure. "You see? Like that! Once you finish this, you can use primer da? And then paint horse. Any question?"

Pitch watched North's hands work with rapt attention, and once he'd righted the horse on the rags and looked his way, Pitch shook his head, "I think I've got it; thanks."

North nodded straightening, "Good, good. I will be back with Alla this afternoon. I must go now. I trust you will have plenty to keep you busy until I return."

Pitch had moved over quickly to take the discarded rag North had been using leaning over half on the table now with it and the horse as he methodically began to look the horse over and follow suit with what North had just taught him.

Looking back from the doorway, North smiled down at Pitch already so engrossed with the horse project. He was pleased the gift had worked out so well not only as a present but as something to draw the Boogeyman's interest into being creative and productive with his time. He said no more leaving Pitch to it as he walked out closing the door softly behind him.

Pitch spent about an hour and a half hunched over on the table working out the blemishes before easing back to his feet. He stretched looking over the horse carefully before he decided he was finally ready to apply the primer. He took a break long enough to change because he didn't want to get paint on his bathrobe, and he didn't want to still be walking around in his bathrobe by the time North returned with Alla.

Once dressed, he drifted back to the table picking up the primer can. What did North do again? Pitch thought over what he'd seen as he began to shake the can about. The first line he sprayed, he did so tentatively, worried that he'd put on too much, but as the paint sprayed, he grew more confident line after line that he applied to the statuette. Giving a few minutes for the spray to dry, Pitch handled the horse spraying every side and underneath until the figure was fully covered.

Satisfied, he went to wash his hands and prepare to paint the figure with actual paints. By the time North and Alla had returned, Pitch had painted the first and second coats of black on the horse's flesh and had been working with the indigo paint to define the musculature as shadows in the groves of the sculpture. It was obvious this horse would be modeled off of a nightmare horse, but Pitch was adding in touches of silver highlights to brighten the figure and give a spark of the light that had brought them to fruition. They had been his own creations, but there was still a tinge of Sandy within them as the originator of the sands, and as such they held a life of their own once they had been created and were not fully at the mercy of Pitch's whims. Another reason why after formed, he was unable to stop them from attacking him once they'd sensed his own fears.

North gave a small wrap at the door.

Pitch looked up at the sound not having realized so much time had passed, "Do come in!"

North opened the door allowing Alla to lumber in first, and he followed behind her carrying an easel, a chalkboard, and a small see through plastic bag that held a dry eraser and a box of chalk.

Pitch looked up cheerily with a wide smile as they walked in; he set the horse figure down gently sitting up then to wipe at his brow, "Uh, hello. Give me a moment to clean up, and I'll be right with you," as he said this, he capped the paint and moved into the bathroom with the palette and paintbrush. Pitch returned a few minutes later with the cleaned items as he set them on the rag the horse statue was laid upon to dry.

Alla had moved over to the horse rumbling out a word of praise as she leaned over to study the paint job.

North nodded, "Yes, yes, he is quite good with paint we have discovered. I would like to see him do more with many different things to paint. Is good Pitch find things to do with time that make him happy," he grinned over at the nightmare lord as he said this.

Pitch had quietly observed the two discussing his work feeling slightly shy but also proud to hear the words North said. It was true, painting was something that he'd quickly taken to heart and was something he found a peace in that he couldn't remember ever attaining before he'd come to the Pole. He supposed it took leaving to fully come to his senses what he had with the guardians. When he'd first been brought to the Pole, Pitch had been terrified that he didn't want to change into what they wanted him to be, but what Pitch found was that the changes he was making in the long run were helping him to find parts of himself that he didn't know or remember he possessed. "Painting does make me happy. I've had my eyes open to try new things, and it's worked out rather well," Pitch smiled pleased to express positive feelings on the subject.

"You are doing very well, Pitch. Are you ready for first lesson in yeti language? Alla and I talked, and we thought it best to start with basics," as North spoke he handed the bag to Alla and began setting up the chalkboard on the easel a good distance from Pitch's desk to make it easy enough for the Boogeyman to see what they were writing without being too far away that it could present difficulties when they moved to annunciation. Pitch may have stated he wasn't interested in learning to speak yeti, but there were several nuances to the language that he would need to recognize.

Pitch moved around the table to watch North set up as Alla pulled out the box of chalk and the eraser.

North motioned towards the desk, "Please take seat, grab paper and pen of choosing, and we will start lesson."

Pitch's eyes moved to the hard stool in the corner, and he frowned as a familiar ache reminded him of the last time he sat on the chair yesterday. Ignoring the stool, Pitch popped open the desk, pulled out a piece of parchment, an ink bottle, and a nib to set up on the desk before giving a slight nod, "Alright, I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Pitch announced looking up at North and Alla.

North gave a nod towards Alla giving her the go to proceed.

Alla moved to the chalkboard and wrote the word 'I,' then she wrote two letters, 'Ga,' next to it. She tapped her chest and made the noise that sounded out what she'd wrote.

North explained, "This is pronoun for 'I' in yeti," he followed by making the sound as well.

Pitch wrote the word and then the yeti translation on his paper as he tried the sound out. It was an easy pronunciation, and he easily mimicked the sound.

Alla let out another string of syllables.

"She says good job, Pitch," North nodded.

Pitch smiled at the praise, but didn't respond otherwise.

For the next hour, Alla went over a list of pronouns, 'I, you, we, she, he, they,' and once Pitch seemed comfortable, Alla moved to using verb tense, 'Ga nrg,' she wrote on the board followed by the translation, 'I am.'

They practiced these forms for about another thirty minutes before they called it quits not wanting to unload too much information at once on Pitch.

"Is good for now Alla says. You are doing rather well so far even though you say that you do not wish to speak language, you pick up on sounds for words well," North remarked.

Pitch frowned, "That's it? But… but we just got started! Can't we practice a little more?" Pitch felt he could learn more, and more so, he knew that the lesson wrapping up meant that they would be leaving him to his room while they went off to do whatever they needed to do elsewhere at the Pole.

Alla sensing Pitch's distress moved over to his side and said a phrase of grunts as she patted his back tenderly.

"She says that she is sorry, but she must go to start preparations for dinner, Pitch. You should be grateful that she uses time between when lunch clean-up is finished and dinner preparations must be started to go over learning language with you. This is favor for you, not necessity; do not make Alla feel guilty for not staying longer," North grunted seeing the pout Pitch was giving Alla and the look of guilt she had in return.

Pitch looked a bit miffed that North was calling him out for his subtle tactic to get them to stay a little longer. He sighed, he still had a good couple hours left of painting to occupy his time, and he was looking forward to seeing the end results. He went about drying his nib and recorking the ink bottle to place in his desk before quietly regarding Alla, "Thank you for taking the time to teach me today."

She patted his head gently and purred something as she moved towards the door to leave.

Pitch watched her go, and once she'd left, he glanced down at his parchment to observe all the scribbles he'd made.

North cleaned off the chalkboard and folded the easel looking around Pitch's room before deciding to place both against the wall by his dresser, "This will be good out of way place to store for now," he turned back to Pitch seeming satisfied.

Pitch placed the parchment in the desk now as well moving with slumped shoulders out of the corner.

North regarded him curiously, "What is matter, Pitch?"

Pitch shrugged, "oh nothing, I …I was just expecting that the lesson would have ran longer is all." He hoped North would decide to keep him company for a little while if he made it quite obvious that he wanted company.

North sighed tiredly; it wasn't that he didn't want to spend time with Pitch, but there was always so much to get done before the next Christmas. He had to focus more of his efforts now more than ever after all the time spent working on the conveyor, "I know you are lonely Pitch, but I cannot stay. When week is over, you will be able to roam again freely. I will be back for dinner tonight around time sun is setting. Is not long time from now."

Pitch let out a soft sigh and nodded, "I know. It would be a little easier to pick up the yeti language if I had more time to practice it… maybe with you later?" Pitch was of course fishing for excuses to get North to stay longer tonight after dinner.

North knew that an hour and a half was more than enough at one time without Pitch starting to burn out to a point that the mind would inevitably start to wander. Being this was Pitch's first lesson, North assumed it was more tolerable than it would be by the end of the week and thereafter where the nightmare lord might not wish to spend as much time dedicated to learning when he was more able to do other activities. Still, North did already have follow-up material to help keep Pitch busy as well as to learn, "I have had Paul working on booklet for you to do activity to help learn intricacies of yeti language as well. It is not easy task to put together in such short time, but he is using other language learning book and changing book contents to fit for yeti language, and if he is able to finish today, I will have by tomorrow's lesson. It will be more practice for you to do by self."

Pitch grimaced, he wasn't exactly looking for extracurricular work, but he seemed to be talking himself into it rather than furthering his agenda for extended company, "Oh… uh, that sounds… helpful."

North smiled moving a couple steps closer to Pitch seeing he was reaching now to find reasons for North's companionship; he rested a hand on his shoulder gently, "Tonight, after dinner, you and I can work with clay if you are up to it. I will bring glaze for horse tonight. I think you will be finished painting by time I come back. I will bring to kiln after you paint on glaze, and by tomorrow, I will bring back finished. Glaze always makes paint pop! You will like, just wait and see."

Pitch appreciated that North was trying to appease him and gave the man a small smile and a nod, "Oh… okay. That …that sounds good." He was still feeling a bit down though as North gave him an affirmative nod and turned to leave. He watched the Cossack go before turning back to the horse on the table; although now, he couldn't find the same enthusiasm he'd had to paint it as he'd had earlier. Not that he still didn't desire to complete it of course.

He sighed picking up his tubes of paint to dab on the palette before pulling out one of the chairs at the table tired of standing and deciding a little discomfort sitting now was better than the ache his back was getting from continuously standing and leaning across things. He pulled the rag with the horse on it over in front of him, gingerly sat, and went back to work painting the figure.

As Pitch worked, he thought on the past couple months culminating to where they were now. It was a marvel to him that he was here even doing this now. Not quite what he'd always envisioned how he and the guardians would ever settle their differences, but he was starting to realize through trial and error that he wasn't always right just because he believed he knew what was best for him. He was beginning to accede that, in fact, he really didn't seem to have the best authority to make some choices even concerning himself since a lot of the choices he'd make ended quite poorly and definitely not in his favor.

These feelings warred within him and tore at his sense of self to willingly admit to needing help. Being the proud creature that he was, such logic was hard to process let alone accept. Pitch supposed that's why he kept ending up taking more steps backward than forward to land himself in constant trouble; this too was not lost on the nightmare lord even though it made him cringe in self-loathing to acknowledge it as a truth. Only by accepting the guardians' help was he ever going to get past the hurdles he kept creating for himself. He knew he needed to actually try harder not just say he would as a convenient plea for clemency. At least since his slate had been cleared with North, he was making good strides to keeping himself in check, and he recognized that North was doing quite a lot to bend as well to accommodate him and make things easier for the both of them.

His thoughts drifted to the other guardians now, namely to Toothiana, whom he still would need to apologize to. That was saying the tooth fairy was even interested in an apology from him after their last foray. She might think he was just paying her lip service after all the many seemingly heedless apologies he'd already given her. He frowned to think that he may have pushed her too far this last time. She had slapped him once before, but this time felt more seeded in exasperation and frustration than the first time which left her seeming almost as shocked as he'd been after it had happened. Either way, Pitch was finally able to accept fault after much deliberation on the whole scene and feeling quite ashamed of the way he'd behaved with her and towards her. She hadn't deserved his wrath, none of them had. He could paint her another painting, but he also knew that even the venue of giving her a gift as an apology wasn't going to make what happened okay between them.

Pitch sighed trying to concentrate on his painting, but his thoughts were too scattered to focus now. He rose from his chair to pace about, but the space was too crowded to do so now, and the porthole window, which often took his mind off such things, was blocked off by the rocking chair, so he didn't even have that comfort without the hassle of moving the rocking chair out of the way.

He was becoming frustrated with his own thoughts and his inability to escape them here in his room. All he wanted to do was go for a walk to get out some of these pent up feelings coursing through him. They were making him restless and agitated even though he told himself now that he had no right to be after everything North had done to make him feel comfortable and entertained during this punishment (which was an added kindness he didn't really deserve, but North afforded him with it anyway.) It left him feeling wholly ungrateful. He flopped across his bed now with a grunt of dissatisfaction; Pitch thought humorously that at least recognizing such feelings as ungrateful was a step in the right direction. He laid on his bed moping about all the things he could be doing (like tending to the reindeer, or anything other than being here cooped up in his room.) He let these desires run their course for about two hours before he deemed it was time to stop feeling sorry for himself and get back to painting his horse.

He rinsed off the brush and went back to work painting now having seemingly rid himself of the derogatory path of thinking he'd let himself wallow in for entirely too long. It took about another two hours before he'd finished painting the sculpture and felt good enough with the end results to consider the job finished. The horse had actually been finished thirty minutes prior where Pitch then had just nitpicked to fill in any lack of detail he felt was missing until he couldn't stand to do so anymore. He stood back now looking at the end result with a satisfied nod.

Once done, he cleaned up his tools and decided to use the dresser to store all of these new supplies to ready the table for dinner. North should be coming within the next couple hours, and he wanted to clear off the table leaving only his painted figure as the centerpiece (which had been North's intention and also Pitch's especially now that he'd added his own touch to the creation.) He was surprised now by the magnitude of things he'd now acquired as he stuffed his drawers with the new items.

He'd always had a habit of living sparsely in his lair, he'd had a few creature comforts like a bed, but they were few and far between as he'd never really avowed himself to become immersed in the human world outside of the exploration of other's nightmares to further his own agenda. He did this mostly to distance himself from the humanistic needs that he had still felt as a weakness, as if he could escape himself. No, he'd just buried that part of himself until it festered into a bitterness of revulsion for what he'd disallowed himself to feel all along. He had been his own worst enemy.

Things certainly had changed for him, he was changing, and they were good changes he could finally fully acknowledge (even if he didn't always agree with the path to getting him here.) He climbed back on to his bed now to lose himself back in his book until North would return feeling content enough for now with his place in the world.