119 Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen - Patrick’s Nest
First floor, third bedroom facing the expansive views of a snowed in rear garden, there were two single beds either side of the door and pressed into the corners furthest from the two windows. There was a clear style clash within this room, representing the personalities of the two individuals that slept there. One side was arranged simply, almost coldly; the high raised divan bed with drawers had a plain unzipped sleeping bag covering whatever duvet and unfitting cover hidden beneath, there was a side table holding a water bottle and just less than half of the chest of drawers nesting between the windows was clear of clutter with the exception of a small bottle of scented spray.
The other side of the room, however, was a mess of clutter and colour almost managing to represent a nest in the small space. From the ceiling hung patchwork curtains that surrounded and hid the single bed draping around it, the stitches of which seemed varied as if an uncertain and amateur hand developed skill as patches were added and the curtains grew. The curtains hung from a single pole attached to the ceiling and following the central line of the bed and draped both ways to snugly encapsulate the low bed, shielding the occupant from draughts (pronoun. Draft). Besides the bed was a bedside cabinet. One of the drawers was still slightly open revealing a tangled mess of threads and scraps of cloth, while on the cabinet, apart from a bottle of water and a colourful mug with a cat on it, also had a pin box, the sponge lid of which was covered in pins.
A colourful rug covered the oatmeal carpet on this side of the room on which were a pair of blue slippers filled with soft fluff. A pair of discarded underwear had managed to find themselves covering the left slipper as well as a single sock. On the half of the chest of drawers (or slightly more than) closest to this bed was an array of bottles and tubs, which seemed arranged without any particular idea in mind, except that the ones pushed to occupy a bit of the neater side of the area were dusty as if not touched for a long while. The pair to the abandoned sock could be found hanging from the handle of the top most drawer.
In this room, only the curtains draping over the windows were the same both sides.
Movement came first from the occupier of the plain, 'minimalist' side of the room. The thick duvet and sleeping bag were tossed aside to reveal a man whose robust, muscular body matched his decent height. The rich toned skin blended in to the darkness of the room, but the leisurewear that substituted for pyjamas were visible to the eye despite the lack of light. The mattress creaked slightly with the repositioning of the man's weight and again as he pushed himself upwards to grab at one of the two dressing gowns hanging from the inside of the door. It didn't reach his knees but it was still an extra welcome barrier against the chill of the room.
He peered over at the nest opposite and wondered if the space inside of the curtains was all that much warmer. But he scratched through the wiry fro developing on his head reconsidering the notion. He didn't sleep badly nor was overly disturbed by the cold while beneath his blankets, it was just those few moments leaving the developed warmth of his bed and adding extra layers over his body that was bitter. Even Patrick would have to experience that when he finally crawled from his eyesore of a haven.
This the little man knew, which was why, when he heard his roommate and friend, Harry, rising from his bed, he did not do the same. Instead, he snuggled in deeper to his covers. These were not as patchwork as his curtains, which originally he'd begun making as a way of practicing his poor hand sewing skills and which were from worn out cushion covers; the inner contents of which had been stuffed into sleeping bags, coats and such. Instead, he used a single duvet and many, many fleece blankets. He did prefer to be warm.
Eventually, as the dawn light began to peer through the windows and sneak around the curtains covering them, Patrick's stomach refused to be denied any longer. With a soft groan of complaint, he reached down to the floor to the rough place he recalled placing his fluffy slippers, lifting up the hem of the curtain just enough to drag them beneath it. These wouldn't help him completely overcome the expectant suffering to come, but at least his toes would remain warm! It should be mentioned, he was wearing a thick pair of bed socks.
Finally, he rushed out of his nest to grab the other dressing gown on the door, wrapping his body in its thick covering and sighing with satisfaction as if he had achieved greatness. Only... where had he left the belt...
After finding the belt tucked inside the drawer with his sewing scraps inside, he finally emerged from the bedroom only to curse. It was even cooler in the corridor than in the bedroom! Inwardly crying tears (not externally, they would freeze on his cheeks for heaven's sake!) Patrick made his way to and down the stairs. As he reached the bottom step, a beckoning gust of warmth teased him and he cheerfully entered the location of its source. Perhaps, unsurprisingly, it was packed full of bodies.
As was usual, Autumn had piled the food meant for breakfast onto the table. There was a plate of shredded potato cakes, a bowl of unpeeled boiled eggs and a pot of mixed beans in a warm and spicy sauce. Patrick's mouth watered due to the mix of aromas. He wove through the standing bodies, men and women chowing down unapologetically in the warmest room in the house, easing the cold lingering inside their bodies as they refuelled them. Those with empty plates lingered, not due to greed, though if they were offered seconds, they would not say no, but as they didn't want to leave the sanctuary just yet. Plus, there might be seconds?
Logan saw Patrick wandering over and so reached for a plate for him. "Two cakes, an egg and a scoop of beans," he told the other man, letting Patrick know the allocation. Patrick nodded, swallowing his saliva as he impatiently waited for the food to be piled on the plate. It didn't seem like a huge amount, but Patrick had never had a massive appetite and would feel content and full just after this much, so he was more than satisfied. And if he wasn't, there was hot tea made from ginger and dried herbs to complete the meal.
"Oh, Patrick," Autumn mentioned as she placed a second pot of tea on the table, "do you have time? I have a couple of tea towels that have torn along the edges." With bulging cheeks of fried potato, Patrick nodded, quickly chewing happily and swallowing before responding verbally.
"Sure, it's fine," Patrick agreed. He'd taken on all of the sewing work in the house, though this mostly meant fixing holes in socks, tears in clothes and sewing on buttons. He could even do this quite neatly now and felt he could try his hand at clothes making in the future. He had made simple clothes for himself before the end, as well as adjusting the length of trousers as the length of his leg could be considered challenged and it wasn't always easy to get trousers that didn't brush the ground and fit his aesthetic. But before, he'd always used a sewing machine, so learning to patiently sew neat and even stitches had become his first challenge. It was just that even then, he'd been more reliable than anyone else.. or perhaps it was because no one else wanted to pick up a needle and thread..
He considered this as he munched slowly on the rehydrated beans which slowly filled his mouth and belly with a satisfying warmth and then inwardly shrugged. What did it matter? He wasn't all that interested in gardening, couldn't cook, hated housework, but due to this extra responsibility, he needn't spend all his time on the wall either. So he was okay with it. Plus, he'd gained all those scraps for the sake of 'practice' thus improved his own living conditions first, a sort of work related perk!
His life could be considered pretty good, he felt. If there was one fly in the ointment, it was that he hadn't been able to improve in cultivation.
His mood lowered as he placed his empty plate into the sink, giving it a rinse and leaving it on the drainer to dry with the cleaned fork. Autumn gave him the tea towels that she wanted him to fix and he gave her a bright smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before escaping to sulk in his nest.
Ren Zexian had reassured him numerous times that when the time came, it would naturally happen, that he was satisfied with Patrick's progress. However, Patrick couldn't help but compare himself to others. Dexter had advanced the previous year in battle and although he hadn't levelled any further, it was obvious he was getting stronger and more battle able. Shaun, Cole and Nathan had all begun cultivating after him, but had all advanced ahead of him, which he felt was unfair, worse, there was no telling if and when he would catch up! Tyler, the person who'd been so sceptical in the beginning, had even surpassed them all!
Flopping back on the bed, he knew there was no point really comparing himself to those guys. Much like in certain games, Dexter, Tyler and Shaun only had one 'experience bar' to level, while he had two and he also didn't have a cheat code like Cole and Nathan, so he could only struggle as a solo player. Still, he wasn't the only one to be in the game at level one, he comforted himself with this fact, plus he was the only person with the unique skill of gravity, while they had several water users, Earth users and Rohan had lightning and fire abilities, while one of those soldiers brought another plant user to the table... well Ren Zexian had said it was wood, but it was similar anyway! As for his ability, none of the soldiers he'd spoken to had heard of anyone with the same power on base, so he was a bit reconciled.
With his mood much improved, he sat on the rug just as the sun finally was able to pour its light into the room and he began to absorb its rays as he cultivated quietly.
Patrick would finally realise his dream of advancement in the latter half of the winter and proudly gloat to everyone willing to listen.
