Through the Stained Glass

Story by ReynartWrites on SoFurry

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Behind closed doors a smile can fade away and the mask can fall. Wearing the mask too long blinds the self to both the bad and the good within but a long look in the mirror can reveal many things.


Sunlight began to fade over Dewclaw as soft tones of orange gave way to the black and blues of dusk. A customer stepped out of a bookstore while waving back toward the owner with a big smile and a book tucked underneath one arm. The door creaked shut while the white-furred vulpine owner of the store stood behind the counter and returned the wave with a smile of his own. He was a boreal fox with inky black touching his ears, large hands, and the tip of the tail. The smile on his face remained rooted even when the door closed and as he stepped around the counter to produce a key from the neck of the poncho he wore to lock the door. Once that was done, he put away the key and headed deeper into the shop until he reached a backdoor that he opened and headed through. With each step he took, his shoulders seemed to sag just a bit more until he got to the door at the top and sighed, smile fading and eyes closing as he opened it and headed into his home. From his poncho, he pulled out his compact as he opened his eyes and headed through the home without regarding anything else. He flipped through the screen as it buzzed to life and selected a particular document. With a thumb, he carefully scrolled through the pages while walking. On occasion, he bumped into a wall where he should open a door but continued either way until he found himself in the bathroom. A hand pushed aside a sliding glass door so he could turn on the water but he didn't get in immediately. He stripped but left it cold and sat on the floor against the glass near a sink and mirror while his eyes remained on the words.

Even the sound of the cool shower spraying the tiles didn't seem to tell Wel what he had done wrong. The story seemed to flow perfectly fine but reading it produced an odd static at the back of his head that he couldn't quite shake off. Wel could see a few grammatical mistakes that could be corrected easily enough but they weren't the core of why he felt the piece was wrong. With a sigh, he leaned his head back and shut his eyes for a second to take stock on how he was feeling. His head hurt just a bit and his body felt oddly warm.

There had been so many people stopping by looking for specific things whether it was a book or ink. He didn't hate interacting with people but he hadn't woken up feeling great in the first place and had kept on pushing, kept on smiling until now as the exhaustion crept on. Each interaction was a bit more his energy drained but even when he had reached his limit he had needed to keep on pushing until the day ended properly. Maybe that was the reason why he felt his story wasn't complete but then again, he wasn't quite sure of anything right now. If he changed a few things here and there then he could get to where he wanted but then again, what did he want?

Wel figured that he wanted something that people would like to read but maybe that would clash with what he actually desired to read. It was a difficult balance to maintain and maybe one that he should ignore in the first place. Before even thinking about how to make it palatable to other people, he needed to think about what was the reason he wanted to write this in the first place. The frown on his face curved downward as he furrowed his brow and glared at the screen until the words began to grow blurry in his vision. He blinked a few times and realized that he didn't remember why he started writing this particular story and couldn't get a good feeling as to why he wanted to write it either.

Was it his mood? Was it the way he was thinking right now? Or maybe he had never considered himself in the first place. Wel couldn't be sure whether it was one thing or the other right now thanks to his mood but he didn't want to stop trying. Maybe someone else could see into the story, maybe someone else could tell him why he felt like his own words weren't good enough even though he was partially sure that he had been pleased with it when he had finished it in the first place.

The frown lining his features curved and twisted as he tried to chew through the cause of his problems with his writing until the whispers at the back of his mind began to teeter over the edges of the sound of the shower. Delete it. Start over from the beginning. Change the characters. Change the mood. Change the world itself. Make it less romantic. Pluck the emotional drivel from the roots. Turn it into something less about you. Make it more about the plot instead of who the characters are.

A lot of those thoughts were wrong. He knew that from the beginning that he had some irrational hangups here and there but they still played over and over again until he gave a few serious consideration. Maybe if he asked someone to look over it for him then he would feel better about it but who could he ask?

"What the?" Came a voice from somewhere behind him, "Why the fox face, chum?"

Wel raised a brow and figured that he should be more concerned about a sudden voice in his home but he recognized who it was and instead decided to reply as he set his compact down and covered it with his hand, "Can you write a better outcome to this story? Something with a little bit more basis in reality?"

They didn't turn around, shoulders slumped while the voice hummed, "Well...I don't think I can make any decisions like that without seeing it first but are you willing to listen if I say something? The last time and the other time you seemed to hear my words but you always make the same fox face and beat yourself up."

"Do I? I don't think I do. I just think I'm considering your words a lot."

The voice chuckled, "Maybe too much listening then! It just seems like you're thinking about whether or not I'm telling the truth instead of if those words align with what you want to do. Now, let me ask you something. Have you stopped to think that maybe you should set that thing down and get in the shower instead of trying to drown out your thoughts?"

Wel breathed out, "I guess I just want to try and get it done now rather than later. If I wait too long then I might forget about it or it might never get fixed."

"Tell you what." Began the voice, "Get up, turn around and look at me. Show me your face and we'll make a deal. I'll read your little story to offer feedback and you'll take a break. Easy, right?"

With a sigh, Wel got up and shook their head, "To be honest, I'm not even sure how you're here but I guess I'll do it so long as you give me your feedback."

The voice came with a chuckle, "Then we'll make the exchange once you turn around and show me that fox face."

He turned around to see a mirror and nothing more at first but when he approached the glass he saw a shape appear clear as a painting. Wel's eyes grew wide once he registered the shape as Andre of all things. Andre was a bird of sorts with black angles making up their form covered by peacock robes and a mask with two mouths and two eyes on it. The odd duckling had been visiting Wel off and on for about a week choosing opportune moments to appear on various pieces of art and offering sage advice, though, most of it came in either riddles or little verbal pecks neither of which Wel minded.

When he still didn't say anything, Andre spoke up, "Ah, I see that you're surprised to see me! Perhaps my voice wasn't vibrant enough for you to recognize this masterpiece or perhaps you were too preoccupied with that frown to think of anything else."

Wel rubbed at the back of his head, "Honestly? Neither of those things. I'm just surprised to see you in a mirror of all places. Figured you could only travel through paintings."

Andre put a digit up and wagged it, "Nothing says that a mirror can't display the greatest art of all, yourself! Now, enough with the questions. We made a deal, right? You take a break from spinning your thoughts so much and I'll read your art!"

Having their writing called art made them wince just a bit. It wasn't that they hated the compliment but they certainly didn't believe it. With a sigh, they lifted their compact and Andre leaned in, eyes squinting and reading glasses placed the beak of his mask even though Wel knew he didn't need those. As he continued to read, his hand came out of the mirror to take hold of the compact and thumb through it.

When he finished, Andre exclaimed, "My! What a tale. The emotional depth that you put into each of these character's interactions is fantastic! The scenery and world were lovingly crafted and I can't help but catch the urge to paint a few scenes. That's my verdict fox face, so enough with the frown."

Wel blinked, "Really? Is that it? You don't think I should change anything? I mean, I don't know...The ending doesn't seem right and the interactions feel played out."

They stopped as Andre tossed their compact out of the mirror and as they caught it, the odd bird sighed, "I thought that you said you listen to what I have to say? I love this piece of yours and those juicy tales have me coming back for more." He then placed a hand on his mask while humming, "But then again, what is it that you wanted with this piece? I know what my interpretation is and I know how I feel about it, but what about you? How do you feel about it? What is it that you want?"

Again they felt their frown deepen as those questions jabbed into their being, "I don't really know. I feel confused but I don't think that's exactly what the writing is making me feel. There is something that I'm missing and I don't know what it is. Then again, I've felt like this before and anything I do like this just ends up ruining the pieces."

Andre smiled, "You doubt your art too much and have very little idea of why you're doing what you do. I'd say those two things are pretty big problems, not the words."

"You think so?"

"Of course! Why would I lie? How can you give your all at your art if you don't know what you want?" Asked Andre.

Wel winced again at the mention of their writing being art and they couldn't help but mutter, "Thank you for the compliments and the advice but I don't know if I can call what I do art."

Andre blinked and leaned close enough that his head stuck out of the mirror, "Not art? Why isn't it art?"

"Well, because it isn't paintings, it isn't pictures or drawings or anything like that. Those things are art and I guess, a few other pieces of visual media but words aren't really things that you can visualize." Said Wel while averting his gaze.

The strange bird leaned back and shook his head, "So you say that you can't make an image so you have trouble believing that you create art? Isn't art expression? I know there isn't much that can top my looks but the words in a story express a myriad of things at once. Color, world, emotion, and more! It is art." When Wel winced again, Andre repeated, "It is! And that face isn't suitable either!"

With a sigh, Wel rubbed at the back of his head, "Okay. I'll stop. Not like I can argue with you on this one and really, thanks. It is good to have my work appreciated."

"Your art! Your art! Say it, it is your art that is being appreciated! We shouldn't be shy about it! If we aren't proud of our work, then who will be?" Said Andre with a huff. Wel rolled his eyes and Andre placed his hands at his sides, "I saw that fox face. If you keep those eyes rolling then maybe you'll scramble that brain of yours enough to realize that I'm right! Or you'll just get dizzy and that'd be pretty fun too so keep at it, go on."

Wel smiled just a bit and shook their head, "Thank you for appreciating my art, Andre."

The painted bird brought his arms out and exclaimed, "Fantastic! Not just the words but your face! Less of a fox face with that little bit of smile. How about you keep going until you get a healthy grin going. You should smile when appreciating art! Or cry if it is appropriate, but smiling is better for this gallery in your bathroom."

"A gallery? Okay then. Let me ask you this again, why exactly are you able to show up in my mirror like this? I know that explanation you gave before had to be a joke."

Andre huffed, "I'd like to think I could tell a better joke than that...But if you really must know it is because I felt something that reflected who I am. Part of what makes Andre's essence so to speak. Your reflection is that very connection and it certainly makes it easier to come out and offer my sage advice."

Wel snorted, "Your essence? Now that's a good joke."

As Wel's smile grew, Andre shook his head, "Not a joke at all. Not even a lie! You can't see it and maybe that's another reason why but we're similar in some ways that allow your reflection to count as a painting of me."

Their smile froze, a hand reaching up to touch the mirror, "Similar?"

Andre's voice came quietly, "There are...Positive aspects that you have displayed. I've been watching you through glass, paper, and more. Those words of yours, that creativity that reflects your emotions so well. You don't understand yourself fully at times but your actions and considerations reflect a particular honesty and truth, and sometimes you don't even realize it yourself. I make jokes about differences in order to dispel what I don't understand and yet, I see you take it another step and make jokes about your own pain that you understand very well that uplift rather than put down or harm connecting the differences instead of trying to dispel. You're more of a piece of art than you understand."

Wel felt their face start to hurt, mist touching the corners of their vision while they cleared their throat and tried their hardest to swallow what had been said even if they weren't sure they believed such praise, "That's...Nice of you to say. Not really sure how I should receive that."

"Think nothing of it! Or better yet, think of it later." Andre beamed, "I'm just saying the truth. There are other things, like the way you wish so desperately to reach out to someone and help them even though you know it's hard, even though you know the distance either emotionally or physically might not allow it." He then leaned out of the mirror again, "But let me ask you this fox face before you start crying. Would you like a name?"

They blinked, "A name? I have one. Well, two but I gave one up long ago."

Andre tilted their head, "Two?"

"Yeah. My parents gave me a name and they didn't treat me well so I just kind of wanted to get away from it, get away from them. Even thinking about it puts a sour on my name. I figured that Wel sounded good enough but good enough is all I ever think about sometimes." Wel sighed.

The bird in the mirror nodded while humming, "So what if we could cut that first name out and give you a new one? Names have power and I'd like to think that I could think up one that would reflect who you are and what you do. Something that you would like."

Wel shuddered, an odd sensation trailing their spine while they responded, "I...That sounds fantastic but I don't think that I deserve such a thing. Maybe, if I could sleep on it I'd give you an answer. There's something strange about what you're asking and I don't think it is anything terribly evil but do I deserve something not bad? I have to ask myself that...And ask myself if I want to know something that truly reflects who I am."

Andre nodded, "Of course. I'll be around when you make your decision. Now then, since the fox face has mostly been removed from your features, let me just take this compact of yours and hide it somewhere in your home before letting you get to your shower." Before they could protest, Andre yanked the compact away and faded into the mirror, one last statement coming through, "Oh, and I'll be hiding your laptop too. Enjoy the break!" A shudder ran through their form again as they thought of being named, as they thought of being given something that truly represented who they were. Would they accept it? Would it even truly be of themselves and most frightening of all, would they even recognize themselves? With a sigh, Wel decided to push it out of their mind and return to reality for a bit. Talking had cleared their head of those weird whispers and they decided that a shower might be nice. When they stepped into the shower, they cursed and yelped as the cold water hit them hand working frantically to heat the water while they snorted and chuckled like a fool at their own expense. Whether or not they accepted the name, they would have to thank Andre later.

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