Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In a lot of ways she supposes things with Enid don’t change.

Whether or not thats for the best…its to be decided.

Its messy work that she finds herself regrettably ignorant on. Intimacy, alone fogged her brain into malfunction; communication locked up her throat with feathers of mortifying truths. She doesn’t know how to talk to Enid.

A lot of times they don’t—not verbally.

When Enid starts gathering up her box of things she deemed ‘belong to Ajax and I feel really shitty looking at them right now.’

Wednesday doesn’t know how to feel.

Doesn’t ever know what to say. Enid murmurs a lot of things that sound like regrets of her own. In passing, like the moon she worshipped it reflected off her face like glaring truths.

“Its…different. Being with a girl.” Enid had said, playing with her fingers again.

With the box of Ajax’s things on the floor.

She had stopped to kiss Wednesday on the way out, claiming something instinctual took over. Flash of gem like eyes and she was no longer fixing her tie in the mirror.

The wolf had captured her by the hips, prowling over her shoulder. Nostrils flaring and pupils dilating to pounce.

“Those lips…Wednesday, do you even know what you do to me?” A kiss to the shell of her ear, then sloppy down side of her cheek, her jaw…grazing her neck.

All the way the air is squeezed from her lungs.

“I’m—Ah…” It dies on Wednesday’s tongue;
whatever anecdote, reply, she’s no longer sure. Enid’s leaving fluff and circumstance in the bird’s nest rattling around her chest.

Literally lifting her from the ground, helping her reach new heights. With hearty giggles that sound more like grizzly delight at Wednesday’s noise of surprise. Her legs hook around Enid’s waist by prompt of eager hands that hold and knead her thighs.

Its uncouth, the sounds pulled from her chest.

Nothing she’d ever put to music.

Embarrassingly, she lacked the gall, rather something decidedly prudish began to creep up her back. Like a melody at a more offensive frequency than even she can reach.

So, it never goes much further, rather she’s not sure how. Not sure how much she wants, when it’s so fresh.

(But she does—she craves and urges like the greedy scavenger she is. Wants to mold herself into Enid’s flesh and let the wolf gnaw her to the bone. To be laid bare before her heart, her purest form…)

So they end up like this instead, flushed and side by side in her bed. And Enid smiles, wry and girlish. Not unlike the wink and and twirl of their younger years.

A puppy who caught the stick.

“For a walking corpse, your skin is awful soft.” Enid mumbled, grinning wide as their foreheads touch.

“I’m told I can be rather harsh at times. I don’t suppose I’m all that different in comparison to stone.” Wednesday replies, though its far off. She’s not like him at all, really.

Not many men (even with her admittedly Machiavellian tendencies) held candle to her. Though she felt like a hormonal boy—some noid who can’t think past his genitalia.

However, with hooded, twinkling eyes; Enid’s known her far too long.

“Well, I think you’re a huge softie.” Enid snickers, nosing her neck as she often does. Planting her scent there in place of words—animal in ways she can’t help. “Besides, I like you the way you are...the way you feel.”

Only the way she was…

Wednesday can’t help but tense, even in arms of her everything. Someone who holds it all, with no idea of the ramifications of their every move.

Even in the throughs of flesh and pumping blood; she’s never stopped feeling unworthy. She thinks thats why she holds herself back, as ironically a leash of her own exists. As if she’s a feral bird.

Beak in need of strap—of muzzle, lest she peck too hard. Perhaps straps around her arms and legs to still her needy talons. Before she flexes her wings to swoop down and reach out.

Take too much.

Enid ruffles through her feathers for sport. Plucks them to hang on mantle of the bed spread. The wolf tries to skin her alive—the tie that had held her attention is first to go. Not without tug to her desperately heaving throat. She thinks its best this way.

She wants Enid to keep pulling.

“Do you…like this?” Enid asks in clear awe of her own actions. Wednesday can barely swallow, but managed a jerk of her head in desperate confirmation. Enid cups her cheek in her spare hand, puckering her breathless lips. “You look so damn pretty—are you even real?”

Her eyes are glowing in a way that could rival a siren. She feels the claw digging into her side and prays desperately for blood. Some kind of release she can cope with.

“But…I don’t want to keep hurting you.” Enid settles on, as her vision begins to dot. As she gasps out for cool air to soothe thrumming heat so disgustingly uninhibited under her skirt.

And Enid’s nostrils flare all the while, inhaling deep enough that Wednesday feels the blush to the tip of her ears.

She sighs as she releases her, air rushing back into Wednesday’s lungs. Blood courses so violently, she barely conceals the pathetic sounding whimper. Her pathetic sounding undoing.

“I want—“ Wednesday has to cough, voice quivering from the previous pressure. It makes Enid frown sheepishly and smooth her thumb against her cheek. “If I was to face harm—death, despair, damnation or otherwise…I could only be so lucky to have it dealt by your hand.”

And she’s sure she sounds vile. Strange and maladjusted.

She knows exactly how she wished to be hurt, but had no threshold of intimacy.

She didn’t know how to take it, when Enid holds her so delicately. When she’s treated like a doll—she feels more akin to a porcelain marionette.

Painted on mask of indifference.

“The way you talk about me sometimes…” Enid murmurs from her place above, hands splayed over Wednesday’s stomach. She breathes out a laugh, “I feel so unworthy. I made you wait so long, I—I don’t know, Wednesday…”

Though its of no choice of her own. Enid couldn’t make Wednesday leave her even if she tried—in fact the foil of it all made her undoing all the more tragic. The lonely bird had always been in the wolf’s sites, stalked and knowingly existing as prey.

In a way Enid had played her—pitifully and easily so. A bloodline curse, along with her own cravings for pain. Affection with it…love without it…Wednesday can’t quite fathom.

“And Ajax, he was so cool about things—way more than he should’ve been, honestly,” Enid goes on, words nearly beginning to trip over one another. Then she sighs, wincing, “But it’s, uh…been weird ever since the…yeah.”

She ends with another deep breath of self soothing nerves. Wednesday watched outwardly blank as each emotion crossed her features. Tried to stop her eyes from peaking over at the box of Ajax’s items.

But if she looks at Enid her apathy becomes less convincing, like peeling paint.

“So, he has been avoiding you.” Because of me.

She wants to add it on but fears it may come out different than she means. She’s not holding onto any real malice, had no right to, aside from discomfort in Enid’s own sorrow. Which inadvertently was fault of hers.

Her inability to leave well enough alone.

No, she still feels incredibly guilty when she thinks of Ajax. Makes her feel as selfish as it looks—though they’ve yet to perform any real PDA.

Enid still makes it a point to stand closer around school now. Sits a little more in her personal space at lunch. Not even a full week of being officially broken up with the gorgon and she was clinging onto Enid like a trophy.

It felt far more heavy than the Poe cup. Much more blood around the handles from crass hands that only know hurt. How to destroy.

They could barely muster a wave in his direction; he still looked to Wednesday kindly and it made her ill. If not for the way Enid’s face fell and the glimpse of wary awkwardness she peaked in Ajax when the wolf tried to wave too.

As if he were only upset at one of them. When Wednesday never asked for forgiveness, nor felt she deserved it.

“It’d be even more selfish of me to expect him to stay friends with me…even if I—“ Enid looks uncomfortable to speak, holding back something with clenched teeth. Then they worry her lip, “Is it wrong of me to kind of…miss him?”

The words crawl up Enid’s fingers until they’re cinching into her chest cavity. Wednesday does good to stay neutral, however she’s been absolute shit at doing so lately. Now that her heart lay exposed, open for the wolf to play with.

“Not like that, or…not entirely—fuck I’m not explaining this right at all, am I?” Enid’s always been candid and Wednesday’s often admired it.

Even now, with the blonde floundering and chewing her lip. Voicing an insecurity she likely didn’t know Wednesday to have—she thinks sometimes Enid bought into the paint too. Color matched it to her skin so well that even her heart would believe it.

Wednesday only nods slowly and with understanding. With a thought in back of her head of how much easier this could’ve been.

“He was your friend first. Before everything else,” And a damn good one at that. One that didn’t strike when he had the chance—Wednesday would’ve purposely let her guard down. She felt she owed that much.

Ajax hadn’t taken the bait. Somehow his lack of action was the most excruciating fate he could’ve chosen.

From above, Enid frowns at her and then slowly lifts off her lap to stand. Wednesday sits up and watches her walk about, fiddling with the clock on her nightstand. Then tapping nails on the wood.

“I should go drop this off and quit moping.” Enid says with a laugh that doesn’t feel right in the circumstance. Then she pauses before the box of the gorgon’s things. “Plus its probably not fair to vent to you about my ex all day…right?”

For some reason, it sends her wings batting.

Has a pitiful squawk curdling up her throat that sounds selfishly like ‘stay.’

She throws her arm over her face to cover her miserable beak. She’s done enough already to drive them apart. She feels responsible for the demise of their friendship—at purchase of something so indulgent.

“Have fun with the gorgon,” Wednesday replies instead. Can’t look when Enid keeps lingering—why doesn’t she just rip the bandage off?

“I’ll be quick, ok?” Enid reassures, even though Wednesday didn’t ask. Nor does she know what to do with it. Then, “We can do something together when I get back?”

“No, take your time.” She thought she was done lying to Enid. Granted she’s still not looking at her. She’s got her eyes closed, arm over her mouth and nose. She smells like her own guilty pleasure, “I believe I have a hive meeting to attend.”

She certainly has authority to make one happen if not. Eugene wouldn’t question her, in fact he’d likely preen at having an extra hand before the weekend.

Another session of jarring honey with dead eyes and buzzing hums like feedback to help her dissociate.

/

“And just like that, huh?”

Wednesday takes pause to look up. She’s working out—rather she’s supposed to be. Bianca is in place to spot her, holding her feet down as the goth does sit ups. Its part of her regimen

The siren sometimes helped, other times popped in and out as she did her own routine. So long as they were on the piste and ready to start by the hour, there weren’t many complaints.

Plenty of goading, mindless attempts to get Wednesday ‘out of her zone.’

Bianca lived to tease her, if not verbally than physically at tip of her blade. Even academically, though Wednesday was hardly the best student. She was ingenious, if nothing else—modern academia lacked a certain aspect of discipline she craved.

She liked it when things hurt.

“Sinclair gets off so easy…too bad I’m about to make her cry when I ace this calculus final,” Bianca babbles on. Wednesday had paused her work out to lean back on her hands and simply observe. The siren smirks, “What, you think because she finally got her head out of her ass I’m gonna be nicer?”

Bianca teases, with her smile but those eery blue eyes tell another story. They’re inquisitive in a way Wednesday doesn’t quite care for when she’s training.

Doesn’t want to hear it at all, really.

She came to the gym to avoid. An old habit, just as unfortunately Bianca had become an old friend. Old enough to know exactly how to intrude.

“I think you should tread lightly in unfamiliar waters.” Wednesday murmurs, leaning on her knees. Her arms cross and bangs mused as Bianca still holds her feet.

A staring contest thats common place between them. She thinks the siren song invades her brain so often, she no longer needs it to feel her judgement.

“Or what, I’ll drown in your little self pity pool?” Laughable, obviously as she clicks her teeth. “I’m the only one that knows you’re even swimming.”

Theres a metaphor about mermaids, about water—deep, deep waves that crash as she helplessly lifts her body above each crest. The siren can only watch from afar, perhaps lounging on a rock and eyeing her like a poor lost sailor.

A pity.

“I don’t request that you understand, however I lack ability to want anything else.” Wednesday answers very plainly. Its hard enough not to feel pathetic once the guilt wanes. Weakness in form of her bared chest, defiantly she hugs her knees closer. “I do believe that is the point in a curse.”

Like shackles that held her head from getting to above water. Kept alive after spewing her lungs dry again, like being water boarded for sport.

Bianca only purses her lips, not in the mood to fight her for once. She’s both grateful and ashamed.

“I’m not gonna tell you how to brood Addams…but, I’m not fencing a corpse.” The siren leans in close to deliver the end of her sentence.

It’s enough to catch her off guard and pause her breath in a game of chicken.

Their eye contact interrupted only by a throat clearing. Blue, animalistic eyes that blaze a clear track along their actions and ending in conclusion that Wednesday can’t decipher on her own. With Enid standing, hands behind her back.

An indefinite end to her plans of avoidance. Of seperating herself.

“Training hard today, I see?” The wolf comments clipped and tight lipped. A smile that doesn’t look quite right, with the way her eyes threaten to cut through them both.

The bass behind her words spark something mischievous in the siren that keeps her hands stubbornly on Wednesday’s person.

Even though she stopped spotting the seer long before.

“Competition season is coming,” Bianca replies back without a beat. Peppy as she is interacting with the younger kids in class that looked up to her—Wednesday nearly kicks at the siren in exasperation. Especially as that smirk brazenly turns her way, “And no one else can keep up with me like Addams here…you know?”

She punctuated it with a pat to shoe she’d been holding. Enid’s pupils track every tap, as did Wednesday’s but she feels her own irritation to be from a different source.

The trajectory of her miserable life currently, for one…

Disdain towards her own body, its function and control at Enid’s every move being another. She scoots away from Bianca’s hands like a squirming insect—under that gaze she felt smaller than all else.

“I’ve been looking for a good stress outlet, actually,” Enid steps forward with low rumbles in her throat that make Wednesday dizzy. “Why don’t I join you guys today?”

Though she looks ready to toss the rapier in favor of her elongated claws, to which Wednesday hums her displeasure. She stands tiredly and in no mood to entertain their rivalry—academic, or otherwise. She looks to Enid with a slow shake of her head.

“Is there a reason you’re not with the furs today?” Wednesday asks in earnesty. Takes in the way Enid flounders for a moment, cheeks pink as if caught.

“Ah—no, just…wanted to hang out with you. Is it a crime to want to spend time with my…” Enid trails and it’s nowhere anyone in the room wants to follow.

Because its nothing defined.

They had barely talked beyond saccharine, silly nothings as they traded pecks. Declarations of hidden desire that fogged up her brain too much to make out anything else. Even the glaring hole that had yet to properly fill.

Enid tended to get distracted. Obligations and status—adult things and real world consequence. Made it easier to fall back into her old schedule of disappearing.

“You’re one of the pack leaders.” Wednesday reminds, not accusing but testing. Finding the right angle to look at the wolf.

A snort from the forgotten siren she’d been training with, comes below.

“If Sinclair wants to get her ass beat, then I say let her.” Bianca shrugs off handedly from her seat on the ground. Wednesday sees their likeness very clearly in moments like these.

While Bianca showed more of her hand—it was calculated. Her outward expressions often crafted like a play. Its fascinating in a certain light, but Enid’s growling like its a harsh excuse for something lunar.

Wednesday admits to falling for tactics like petty words from Bianca in her youth—she knows them nowadays to be harmless. Laden in insecurity at worst and strange endearment at best. She thinks this to be more primal.

The siren attacking from below, lounging and playing with words like toys. The wolf acting on base instinct and pride that Wednesday understands in no way other than animalistic nature.

“Fuck it, you’re on.” Enid states, comically polite considering the fangs that prodded her lips. She kept her head high—Wednesday holds shame in the way it ignites something in her.

Pathetic as it is, finding some kind of enjoyment in Bianca teasing her love into her more beastly qualities. She’s never denied her personal selfishness, however.

She watches Enid as she charges into the locker room. Follows stiffly behind after handing a chiding glare in Bianca’s direction; the siren does not much other than shrug and quake her shoulders in held in laughter.

She walks into the changing area and finds Enid. Charged up and grumbling softly to herself as she mumbles on about ‘stupid, smug mermaids.’

“This is incredibly unnecessary,” Wednesday comments with her usual dead pan.

She sees Enid angrily undo her tie and clawed fingers fumble with fragile shirt buttons. Flexing digits that could lay waste to the steel of the lockers, let alone flimsy cotton. Plastic buttons that could so easily be snapped—

“You sure about that?” Enid’s smug voice has her face undeniably hot. Has her bashfully looking away with her own pride stuffed down her throat. With the blonde grinning wolfishly back at her, “Sorry, is there something on my shirt? You keep staring.”

Wednesday huffs her indignation, flocks of feathers battering her ribcage. She feels nauseous in an entirely new way—one more regretfully pleasant.

“Enid, why are you here.” She’s admittedly desperate for a subject change, but she’d also been left unanswered.

Enid always had pack meetings. Even her relationship with Ajax (faux or not) hadn’t been enough to skip. The blonde’s gripes with certain members never even prompted playing hooky.

“I said I wanted to blow off some steam.” The wolf shrugs along with removing her shirt. Coyly folds the fabric and slides her skirt down, before she addresses Wednesday proper. Underhandedly offering distraction in form of temptation, “Its a new moon week, so we get free time. No use in planning the hunt with no night light.”

Its not like its a nonsensical excuse. It checks out logically.

Not that any rational thinking occupied her mind currently. With more skin revealed than anticipated (though, that would be point in a locker room wouldn’t it?) she felt her point long gone. Her eyes blinking wildly for a moment and throat drying up, Enid only snickers.

“Besides, I’m sure you get tired of sparring with just Bianca all day, mm?” Enid coos and they’re not the only people in the club by any means. “And you’ve been so busy with her all week.”

The other fencers just tended to back off when they found their stride. Bianca also had keys to the gym. And technically they really did have regional competitions to train for. (Even if Wednesday refused to compete on any kind of ‘team.’)

The excuses are all like static ridden stations her brain’s antenna tried to pick up on. The signal felt fried with unbridled heat.

Wednesday feels awfully tongue tied at the moment however. Enid plays with her treacherous eyes like her own instrument, fingers sliding down a lithe waist and plucking the sides of thin panties to adjust. Like strings that play with the nerves connected to her—

“Right.” Wednesday husks, clearing her throat as subtle as she can and covering her mouth with her fist. Even facing the doors to cloak her humiliation and maintain a shred of dignity. “I should…the piste needs to be set properly.”

Its spoken in haste and she’s pushing through the locker doors just as fast. Ignoring the giggles at the fact that she can’t turn around.

Bianca’s doing some stretches, moving languidly as ever. Without care in the world for anything but her form.

How peaceful it must be.

She has to take time to massage her temples, as if she could scrub it away. What she’d been hiding from, thinking she had the high ground over the tempting wolf.

No…Enid had heard her heartbeat. Smelled the blood that already kissed surface of her skin. Knew when to leap.

She wished her own hippocampus could be stretched and reset. The brain is elastic and heals itself well and all that.

Image of Enid preparing for battle, scantily clad and smiling at Wednesday like that—it was imprinted.

Somehow more dastardly pliant, it remained even when she got her wits about her. When Bianca’s looking at her funny.

“Is it hot in here, Addams?” She asks in a way Wednesday chooses to take as rhetorical. She snorts, “I thought it was a little cold, actually.”

She gestures with her eyes to the locker room, where Enid was still dressing.

And Wednesday wished to agree for sake of her own pride if nothing else. She can only cross her arms, as if it acted as a smidgen of cloak for her own feelings. Like she could physically contain the ravens that squawk mercilessly in her stomach.

A symbol of impending doom, surely.

Enid stands tall when she walks back in. Something new with her status, Wednesday had noticed, was the confidence the wolf displayed. She mimicked the seer in posture, often in proximity, but Wednesday could see it from a distance now.

As she strides up, helmet on her hip and looking the most serious Wednesday’s seen her since the mess of their party escapades. Bianca had been sitting on the piste, legs over the edge and smirking at Wednesday like she knew something.

Maybe she did, like the slimy, intrusive eel crawling in her ear she often embodied.

“Remember that the match has two contenders, yeah Addams?” Bianca winks, before she props herself up to stand proper.

Wednesday blows air through her nose, harshly but noncommittal. Looks to the side line bench and sees Thing, poised as if he’s meant to be there. She glares and pretends to nearly sit on him, but finds no real delight in him skittering away.

‘Hey! I’m trying to see the fight, too!’

She doesn’t know why thats of her concern, when she’s concentrating on breathing.

She’s stiff, before she grabs the clipboard they used to keep count. A fresh sheet of paper that she writes the date on to check once more if she’s dreaming, or ill.

“Yeah, well good luck with our lit final, because I’m a way better writer!” Enid’s angrily backed bragging catches her next.

Ah. It would appear Bianca had resorted to low blows and SAT scores—frivolous nothings to challenge Enid’s intelligence. And more importantly her temper.

“Remember mutt, no claws allowed.” Bianca coos at her like a puppy. It grates Wednesday’s nerves as well in all honesty.

“More practicing, less speaking.” Wednesday interrupts, to which Bianca rolls her eyes and slips her mask on.

Just say you wanna oogle your eff buddy.

Wednesday wished she could send her own mental attack back at her ‘friend.’

“Don’t go easy on me either,” Enid requests, going to put her head piece on, but then she makes a face. “Actually, when have you ever thrown me a bone?”

Bianca laughs through her mask and Wednesday lets go a sigh of agreement.

“Alright then, you may begin. The stage is clear,” Wednesday waves her hand in show of a bout.

It’s certainly something, alright.

En garde, indeed.

Enid’s fast. Much faster than Wednesday, begrudgingly, though sloppy due to lack of real interest in the sport other than today. She normally only liked to watch, which the seer didn’t quite understand until now.

It’s breathtaking, watching a predator in action. Wielding weapon like an extension of her bared claws; Bianca looked awfully close to shore. A fish floundering, but still at grace in its home territory.

And Enid growls. Truly, a ferocious thing, isn’t she…

*snap snap*

Wednesday swallows, adjusting her collar as Thing has to call Bianca’s apparent point for her. Its subtle, not all at once—her shirt only starts feeling tight when Enid drops her foil to her hip, barely out of breath.

And it goes on like that for an agonizing amount of time.

She feels perverse, impossibly so.

There shouldn’t be any lewd undertone or entendre; With the grunts of exertion and flexibility of the wolf’s hips.

Its taboo in ways she’s not adept, the way Enid looking so violent reached her down below. Even in ways quite literal, blue eyes going down to look at her as soon as she’s spent.

She glanced at the score board enough to know the wolf was the one holding back. They ended at a smug stalemate with Enid’s tip in Bianca’s side.

“Maybe you’re worth your dinner, after all.” Bianca comments as she removed her mask. She’s panting quite a bit herself, wiping sweat from her forehead.

Enid looked to still be thrumming with energy and all else, smirking wildly under her cover. It slips off to reveal hair damp with sweat, messy bun coming out.

A terribly appealing nest to lay to rest. Though she wipes strands from her face like its a nuisance.

“Good game!” Enid beams, going to shake hands with the siren. She wearily excepts, with a look of amusement as they exchange pleasantries.

Wednesday doesn’t know if its wise to question. Looking a gift horse in the mouth may lead to her impending demise being premature.

It doesn’t give much choice, when Enid turns to Wednesday next. When she’s looking unruly and feral, pupils dilated with adrenaline and nostrils flaring.

She finds herself rising to stand before the wolf’s even in her personal bubble.

“Hey,” Enid sings, eyeing her like she’s something more than she is. Like she sees something the seer can’t, with how wide her smile is; bouncing on sole of her feet like she’s excited and biting her lip. “How’d I do?”

“I believe it ended in a tie.” Is her clipped, even toned answer. She’s crossing her arms in a way, like she’s hugging herself (hugging in those flailing birds, more like it.)

Enid giggles, low in her throat. It shouldn’t sound so teasing and girlish, but the wolf grabs one of her plaits. It makes her stop breathing to recollect the last time she’d done so—only this time there was no alcohol.

Though her breath was hot with something else. She adjusts her braid to sit over her shoulder like the other.

“I know that, silly…but, what did you think?” Enid asks next, hand then smoothing down her shirt.

A plethora of things halt her from answering.

If not the way she finds her entire body at Enid’s beck and call, near limp at the mere touch of her fingertips alone. Maybe the waft of flowers, like more gardenias planted out of place. Growing through cracks in her armor.

Enid just grins wider and wider.

“You were quite striking to see in action,” Wednesday replies in challenge. Keeps up her faux indifference, looking Enid in those shimmering eyes that want to swallow her whole. “Its been a while.”

She tags on like it’ll sell her apathy, when really it just makes her face redden. Times in the past when she had to act like classes with Enid didn’t test her restraint, even back then.

“I missed you.” The wolf whispered, like another secret between them. She’s not sure if it doing it publicly makes her feel any less wary. Still, Enid grins, “Can we do something today? Just us, since we never got to.”

Thankfully, Bianca is interrupting them, jogging up to remind them of how long they’ve been in here. The fact that the siren was now dressed in her uniform and ready to go has her reeling, how distracted she gets under the thrall of her roommate.

“Hey, coach needs the room for class so go change and lets dip.”

/

Its like she’s lost a wing.

Definitely her mind.

She’s being led back to the changing room, even though she’s no real reason to be there. She came here already dressed in sweats. She had pre planned her get away, knowing Enid would have been busy.

She shouldn’t be here at all either, technically.

Lonely weak minded bird she became, when in sight of such a vicious predator.

“What activity did you have in mind?” A weak caw from her pliant beak. The wolf prowls closer.

Wednesday notes the fact that they’re no where near where Enid had placed her things. They’d barely gotten inside, really, but she’s pressed against cool metal on her own accord. It does little to quell the ache (her poor, broken wing), but still she lets back of her neck rest.

She’s not sure who sighs their relief first.

“Hmm…” A coy tap to her chin as if she’s not blatant with the rest of her action. She smirks like a cat who’s caught the mouse. “Something to help me cool down first, definitely…”

Enid had far more reason—more logical, practical reasoning for being overheated.

Wednesday swallows thickly, when her method of beating said inferno included peeling half her suit down. Revealing a pink sports bra and more skin than a raven often bared witness.

Even less so to touch…something so alive.

“I thought you’d barely broken a sweat?” Wednesday murmurs, out of breath herself. Enid’s belly was warm and her breaths even hotter. She was ludicrously close for someone complaining of heat  

She’s not sure when her hands move on their own either, pressing against the expanse of a firm abdomen. Like a brick wall she could scrape her skin off against. The accompanying flowery scent of Enid’s as decor to her funeral.

Surely, the wolf was trying to kill her. Enid’s growling at her now, even though her lips are curled up into a grin—a charming and disarming beast.

“Exactly…I’m still pretty wound up, actually,” Enid’s voice sounds unlike anything she’d heard thus far. “A ton of energy to burn…”

The guttural command when a pack mate over steps. The grumbling in her sleep as she kicked and whimpered. The annoyed ruffs when Yoko poked the bear.

She thinks the denominator wasn’t mere instinct.

No—Enid didn’t look to be in control of herself (though she’s certainly one to talk.) Blown dark pits swallowed the blues of her eyes and Wednesday fought urge to jump, before she’s pushed.

And she is.

Rather roughly into the locker actually, as if she wasn’t already trying to meld her body into the solid steel for something to keep her from falling. If only her brain could will her limbs to agree. Pure static encompassed her line of thought.

“Enid, what is—“ A hand clamped over her mouth next, that she doesn’t bite to make her quick escape. She honest to god whimpers, as if Enid was her maker.

She was already her undoing.

“Shh, I just—“ The wolf’s nose twitched and then she inhaled so strongly it sent her head back. By the time it lolls back around, her mouth is agape with glistening, sharp fangs. Her eyes dazed and expression foreboding, “Your scent, Weds…you really do like being handled like this, huh?”

There’s a laugh, breathless and heaved out at the end that makes Wednesday thankful her mouth is covered.

She’s so hot with embarrassment and so many (so many alarmingly feral, needful and debauched) things that struggle to settle comfortably in her head.

They’ve traveled far below.

Precariously close to where Enid’s free hand has hooked around her back, above her rear. Another noise leaves her mouth in a feeble, muffled vibration between Enid’s fingers. She didn’t request those fangs at any point either, but she likely didn’t have to.

Enid knew how to hurt her in the best ways, unconsciously or not.

Perhaps she looks like a flightless raven, crashed to Earth and panting. The blood thrumming under her skin before the teeth even sink down. Enid could probably hear it thumping in her chest.

“Fuck…” Enid grunts, tightening her grip. She doesn’t know when curses started delighting her in this way. This way that has her clenching her thighs together—“Keep still.”

Enid presses her leg between hers, forcing them back apart and supporting her weight. Her legs were starting to shake and her hips felt of their own autonomy with how they meet Enid’s thrust like she belonged there.

And the wolf huffs her words out like a threat. One that Wednesday found herself genuinely shivering from.

Enid licks a wet stripe up her neck next, like her skin could substitute for what they’re both overtly thirsting for. What she can’t mask in metaphors, when Enid so blatantly keeps saying—

“Sorry, just—fuck, Wednesday…your taste…” It garners more destitute sounding whines from her throat. Then their chests are pressed together and Enid inhales her again, like an oxygen tank, “I can smell it. How much you…”

She wished to close her thighs and hide her head away in shame. Wanted the strange pressure, like hot coals below her waist and searing under her pants to put itself out.

I’m giving you a mental countdown, Addams so please be decent…ten…nine…

She thinks the heat was making het delirious, until Bianca starts genuinely counting.

Wednesday makes the apparent mistake of trying to remove Enid’s hand from her mouth, because the wolf growls at her like she’s tried to take away food. The seer frowns, trying to remember how in the world she normally resists touch.

“I said keep still.” Enid grits through her teeth, making eye contact with her. It sends a sick thrill up her spine that makes itself apparent in her pitiful moan of impending doom.

And that makes it all the more appealing, somehow. As the siren counts down meticulously, giving her the courtesy to tell Enid to stop, because they’re very much in public.

Nevermind Bianca, but anyone could see the blonde devour her whole. Anyone.

Her face was covered in blood—red in her lack of shame

An unpleasant thought of someone telling can’t help itself from conjuring up in her minds eye. Of how it could lead its way up and down the halls in gossip she’d rather ignore. Others weren’t so apathetic.

Would he be?

“Alright gay people, time to move the parade back to your dorm!” Bianca knocks harshly on the locker room door. The fact that she never exited was likely why she didn’t open it.

Curiously, she finds herself not moving an inch—she’s further ashamed to decide if it’s because of Enid’s strength, or her own desire.

(Even more so when she knows the first option would simply be an excuse)

But then Enid pulls away from her like she’s unEarthed some latent shock ability from Fester’s genes. She looks more out of breath than she had been on the piste, hands going to run through her loosened hair and exhaling through pursed lips.

“Oops,” Enid laughs next, looking at Wednesday with a dopey grin. “Got a lil carried away, huh?”

Oops, indeed.

Tactless, but far easier than explaining…

“Indubitably.” Wednesday husks, watching Enid grin wider and then go to skip over to her locker to begin actually changing. Like nothing had just happened.

Her denial of (and unwillingness to cope) with her own feelings in tandem…perhaps it didn’t.

Though that sat even less well in her chest.

She lets her head fall back and clink against metal.

/

Her face is burning.

Its like a scarlet letter she can’t rip off by seams. Ripping the skin would just expose her—show her pounding, malfunctioning organs up close. A morbid display of her own emotional turmoil.

And she wouldn’t even be able to enjoy it.

Instead she’s sitting pitifully in class, after parting from Enid. Bianca had taken impish delight in innuendo upon viewing her rosy face and then reminding the seer that their classes are synced up next.

The siren stood as close as Wednesday allowed anyone else, but raised her brows to tease the wolf before parting—

“Don’t worry Sinclair, I’ll make sure she has a great day in class.” Bianca cooed, placing herself between the two.

Like she wants to make Wednesday’s life harder.

Enid had narrowed her eyes, before she scooped Wednesday into a quick hug. She made sure to quickly stuff her face into the seers neck, further fuzzing up her brain with ivy like vines that wrap around around her brain.

With her release, meeting eyes with sun—those vines flower plush gardenias.

“A hug for luck…just to make sure,” Enid shrugged after letting go, hands behind her back.

It makes her cross her legs uncomfortably as she sits at her desk.

“I know you’re in the hive club or whatever, but you smell more outdoorsy than usual.” Bianca murmurs from beside her. Otherwise, the girl was taking notes and not even looking at her. She makes a faux face of curiosity, “Hmm…weird.”

Wednesday grips her own pen so tight, her hand minutely shakes.

Luckily their professor takes the stand, beginning to hand back packets from the week prior.

“We’re going to go over the midterm answers in pairs today,” He announced while he made his rounds. Wednesday had passed with ease, along with Bianca who looked about as bored as she did.

Their potions class was easier than not. Really, a lot of the material had brought back memories from an early as her nursery.

Her grandmother used to sit her on the counter while she stirred all kinds of discord in her cauldron.

“I’m splitting you up by test scores—not as an invitation to belittle your peers,” He emphasized with a tip of his glasses. “But, to help each other and learn different techniques for similar solutions…”

Its not surprising to hear but bothersome to anticipate social interaction. She’s been doing good at not turning her head.

“Bianca, you’ll be with Apollo…” Wednesday can spare a glance in corner of her eye at the siren’s clear distaste in working with one of the stoners.

Another gorgon that often sat next to—

“So that leaves Ajax with Miss Addams, here.”

If her face wasn’t already burning…

“I’ll spare you the walk of shame and switch,” Bianca offers what could be considered a life preserver, but the delivery lacked any real desire to do so.

Wednesday just holds her mouth in her palm, resting against her elbow on the desk and works on steadying her breathing. Her heart thuds painfully, like she’s in danger of the gorgon having procured psychic mind reading abilities.

Like they share the burden of touch—of knowing of one’s discretions.

The slap of paper catches her ear and a chair is pulled out.

“Uh, Bianca kicked me out of my seat, so I figured I’d just join you.” The awkward introduction, is accompanied with a bag in tow.

Wednesday doesn’t often feel need to be courteous to anyone. Its this strange obligation backed by mortification and guilt that climbs up her back if she tries otherwise.

“Very well then.” Is her reply, hand going from her mouth to her cheek to subtly check if its still warm.

It is. Hellishly.

“So…hows your day been?” Ajax tries next and Wednesday feels her chest cinch in memory.

“I can smell how much you...”

“Oops.”

“Riveting,” Wednesday replies, evenly as she can. Then she straightens her back, pushing her test more properly in front of her. She addressed Ajax with an expression she’s sure looks pained, “And yourself?”

Ajax looks to relax a bit nonetheless.

“Pretty good, actually…the corner store in town got new Elfbars in.” He shows her the bright orange contraption in his pocket, but Wednesday doesn’t quite understand the correlation.

She supposed it was elven in size, but it made her twist her face in disbelief.

“What exactly are you having issues with?” She asks next, nodding at the packet he’d brought with him. He makes an expression of distaste and a noise along with it.

“Shit, so many things…” Ajax complains, but he does so with a grin. She’s known the boy to be one to lighten things with his humor, but its daft of him to try it with. Still, he quips, “Oh, you meant the mid term? Potions don’t make sense to me its like a whole other language.”

“I thought you spoke several?” She retorts, before her tact can catch up. He doesn’t question why she would know that, but it was technically a given considering his heritage.

“Just Greek, but even then I don’t really speak it often here unless I’m with the other gorgons, or E—“ He cuts himself off, but she’s under no delusion that its simply for her sake. He doesn’t look like he wants to address it either. “Anyway, uh…yeah. It’s confusing to read the recipes and stuff.”

Confusing was one way to put it.

Wednesday nods, swallowing the shame down and willing herself to be normal.

“I see, that would be the base of it, wouldn’t it.” She speaks like filler, as she tries to be…professional? Cordial? Really, she doesn’t feel as if she has right to be the one to fold. Instead she clears her throat, “There are many different methods to solve the same thing, however.”

“Thats what kills me, dude!” He groans, before he flips to a particular page in the exam. “Like here—how come sometimes you can use short cuts or substitutes, but other times it makes the whole thing voided?”

“Different makes ups and all that. Potions and spells are done with intention first and foremost,” Wednesday replies a bit easier. This was familiar ground to walk on, where she knew every nook and cranny. She felt a bit safer on this subject. “Some recipes vary by region or family, like meals or tales. Surely, your time in Greece would have you privy to such practices?”

“Gorgons are different. We technically aren’t really social creatures historically, you know?” Ajax comments, the history in question not needing be said.

The tale of Medusa spoke for itself.

“You do well enough, don’t you think?” Its almost a compliment, because somewhere in her blackened, jaded heart she could envy those with social battery. The capacity to care, the ability to comfort. “Lets start here then, with the—“

Wednesday hadn’t looked too hard at the potion Ajax was stuck on. She just knew it was ages old and another one of those extremely particular and circumstantial things. Due to nature of their conversation and what she made out of his scrawled handwriting.

“Truth serum, yeah. Its so confusing!”

Certainly, it was. To know it all—the burden of knowledge. She finds it hard to look him in the eyes suddenly.

“One of those things that have a million ways to get from point A to B. Some routes more tricky than others and yielding varied results.” She rattles off what she knows to stave off her need to leave. To retreat into herself, or something more incriminating.

Though it’d be far easier to simply commission a siren, apparently.

She stuffs the thought down with more jargon. More terms to flower up her impromptu lesson that may, or may not be backed with more experience than she wants to speak on. Ajax seems captivated, regardless.

He doesn’t do anything but look at her. Like he’s inspecting her, since she’s not the audacity to return the favor. He taps his pen on the table too, not taking a single note.

“You know…don’t think I’d have the heart to ever use it for real.” He says suddenly, like he’s had a revelation. Wednesday’s a masochist who never believes she’ll meet her threshold for these things.

He’d let her off too easy.

“The serum?” She prompts, like she doesn’t know where he’s going. She’s not entirely familiar with the route, of course, but she’s all too privy the destination.

Ajax nods, twirling his pen.

“I’d be afraid to know the truth if I don’t already,” He continued, but treaded carefully. Wednesday didn’t think she deserved the courtesy, but thankfully its brief. He gets a strange look, biting his lip before he talks again. “I don’t like to treat people like liars…why lie at all? If you care about someone.”

Which, to the average person—one far more well adjusted, they would agree. But she’s an Addams. A clear indicator of underhanded activity.

Wednesday feels terribly ill, however. Has to force herself, face still blazing inferno and sweat on her brow, to face him. To look him in the eye, because its quite literally the least she can do.

“Self preservation.” She answers, rather than calling it chicken. Calling it cowardice—self deprecating that had no place here. She’s been selfish enough, “People lie to protect themselves…sometimes even others.”

Its often in assumption alone. The way she had lived for so many years…

“Even if it hurts them in the end?” Ajax questioned, soft as if he didn’t want anyone to hear. A rude reminder of where they were, apparently, as he seems to become regretful. His frown lifts just slightly and he shakes his head, “Sorry…we’re not talking about the exam anymore, are we?”

He gives a half hearted laugh and Wednesday wonders if things were like this with them too. If they exchanged half truths with awkward laughter. Maybe they handed off his box of belongings that way.

Smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes.

“I suppose not.” She answers after a while, finally breaking eye contact. It felt appropriate, she thinks.

No…she’d still be lying. Self preservation.

Maybe she’s atoned for something, with her brief toe into her own sin.

Infidelity.

The bell rings, before she can choke the word out, or begin to apologize. She already has—far more than he’d remember.

“For the record…I’m not like mad at you or anything.” Ajax says, after packing up his things. Stands above her looking as kind as he can with tensions taut between them. With Wednesday curled into herself.

She looks at him incredulously. Like he’d told her that she’d done nothing wrong at all.

“Thanks for your help by the way. Have a good day, dude.” Is all he parts with, nodding before he falls in step with Apollo and they exit the room altogether.

Chapter Text

Fate and chance were things she’d be daft to rely.

She thinks it akin to holding the gun in her hands and pulling trigger with no bullets. The knife without a handle, or a lonely plot in the ground before you’ve begun to croak.

A waiting game. She’s far too impatient to yield result.

Normally she’s one for mail. Had grown an internal ulcer that looked an awful lot like fondness or affinity towards texting and her phone. Its not hard to get in contact, albeit its more red tape than she cares for.

Uncle Fester alone and his many felonies come in handy. Not to mention her family’s natural nefariousness.

She knew how to get arrest records, personal information—that was practically child’s play on the internet. Finding someone who’d relocated and been in witness protection had a few layers of security to peel back. Though, begrudgingly, she supposed that’s the point.

Maybe what she wanted. She didn’t really want anything at the time other than a good thrill. To make sense of the birds hatching from years dormant eggs in her gut.

Pecking her brain to madness, as her mother and so forth. Doves, robins, vultures, hummingbirds.

Such great heights…it hurt an awful lot to come down. More than she’d ever anticipated.

What bliss.

When she came back to life and truly embraced it. Embraced Enid.

And so, she didn’t want a conjugal visit—not yet. Doesn’t think she can face him, not out of fear but implication. A twitching button nose and blue eyes that glimmer in tandem with quivering lips asking ‘why?’

She wouldn’t put Enid through that. Not again, not willingly.

She can stomach his handwriting if not only because they didn’t talk like this when she knew him. Cause she doesn’t really feel like she does. Or ever did.

It doesn’t smell like anything but parchment. Theres never a return address, but maybe it traveled far enough to lose its scent.

She’s only read the handwritten anecdotes, but never had the gall to reply. Rather, she didn’t want to give him another thing—the satisfaction. He sends every blue moon without fail, regardless. She can count the amount of times on both hands.

Wednesday decides to beat him to it this time. With so much more at stake.

“H-Hello? I was uh…told my phone was going off but I was in the other room. Sorry about that,” Tyler apologizes.

Tyler Galpin—or Doohan is what he’s been going by nowadays. It still felt strange to say, even though her research made her privy long before.

He still sounds woefully lost, like the teenage innocence she once glimpsed. She knows better than to trust his tone now, though.

Much better.

“Unfortunate for you. Perhaps you should’ve let it ring,” She replies, after the feeling of his voice wafts off her shoulders. She can still feel the knife in her chest, if she doesn’t remember to keep breathing.

Hand unconsciously on the lapel of her uniform. Where the scarring was. Goody wasn’t here with her this time, though. Never would be again.

She feels adrenaline (she’d never call it fear or PTSD) hammering in her chest for a shameful few beats, until she looks across the way. Looks at Enid’s side.

(Her strong wolf, that protected her all those years ago.)

“I’m not sure why I even picked up the phone,” She says after a beat. When there’s nothing on his end either.

And then a laugh, one of pure bewilderment.

“Wednesday…how-how are you?” He sounds breathless, like he can’t believe it. He’s never put pressure on her to respond, let alone call. “I…wow, ha—I mean…well, I never thought I’d hear your voice again.”

She could laugh. A callous, cruel thing at the irony in that.

“That feeling is mutual,” She fears that may be the only thing that is. More silence, a sniff on the other line that has her mildly irritated. Its too casual, “How do you think I’m doing…if I’m calling you? After all your previous failed attempts at contacting me.”

Its a rhetorical question, but he babbles and stutters on the other end for a minute like he might have an answer. Then, a dark chuckle—there’s the Tyler she had left.

He must still find it amusing to see her so low.

(To see her lose.)

“Fair point.” She feels like she can see him still, in his layers and hoodie. Only she can faintly hear a TV in the background. And he’s miles away from her now. He even sounds a bit remorseful, “Ok—well, is it forward of me to just ask what you want, then?”

She doesn’t know why she’s calling. To prove something to herself? To punish herself?

He only chuckles to himself, like she told a joke only he could hear in the silence.

“Sorry, I…just still can’t believe it is all,” He sounds almost in awe. She doesn’t want to give him this satisfaction.

“Why do you write me?” She thinks herself justified in this. She didn’t ask to watch people die and often didn’t mind it necessarily…but Tyler played God. Rather, played into someone else’s complex.

She thinks they share that too. That pesky attachment style, that seeks its master. Not biblically, but karmic.

Lowly creatures in search of a moral compass. Their own so broken and torn that its hard to tell who really knows what’s right.

“You want me to stop?” He asks, sounding like he doesn’t believe that to be an option. Like he knows that she only feels safe with his words because that means he’s in control and far away from…

“Why…” Wednesday mumbles angrily. He couldn’t know, could he? Enid hadn’t even turned under his original ploy—Thornhill had counted her out. They all had. “What is your angle? Give me one good reason not to put a stop to your little routine.”

Why give her this extension? (His number was written, scrawled out and then written again on one of the first few letters.) Still, its the only thing that makes her feel like she’s making up for that night.

Keeping watch on him.

Allowing him to speak to her.

She has to check dates on his letters sometimes…after those nightmares, even now that she can greedily trace the scars on Enid’s face for proof. Feel those strong arms hold her tight, growls in her sleep to ward away whoever threatened their peace.

Still behind her dreary eyelids in her sleep, she’d be watching above like the self righteous raven she was born. An omen of death.

Even in her dreams.

She watches him tear the wolf apart. Sees the life and light leave the wolf in dulled unidentifiable pieces. No more colors, pinks having become tainted with dark crimson blood.

And then she mourns over her bones, as her talons touch tender flesh.

Like the scavenger she is.

“I think you’re the only decent person I met in Jericho.” Tyler answers after letting her spiral for far too long. Perhaps he planned for that too. “When I think back on it…you were technically my only real friend.”

It sits unwell in her chest and sends an unpleasant shiver down her spine. She holds her hand tight, in her lap.

“No wonder Thornhill found you so easily, if my apathy gave you all of that.” She mocks him, half hearted delivery aside. Tyler doesn’t seem to care.

He just laughs.

It feels familiar talking to him in the worst way. Like recognizing something askew when you haven’t moved it one too many times. A ghost of the past seeking recognition from the living, in hopes to pass on.

But, is that any one’s duty? She certainly feels that way. When she runs her greedy fingers over the scars on her wolf’s face; it often feels like a moment stolen. Because while as an Addams she may admire the sinewy lines on her skin, but Enid never asked to bare them. It was at her expense.

And as a raven, walking beside her flight path, it would always be.

“So you read the most recent one I sent?” He asks, which she’s been expecting. She’s surprised he didn’t open with the inquiry, but he’s always been far more in it for the long game. Its only right.

So, she had left it in the box with the rest.

Under her bed sat an address and a proposal. A chance for a fresh start…one where Dr. Jekyll gets to tame his Hyde.

“Still asking rhetorical questions for sake of useless suspense?” Her snark is diluted by how worn she feels. Because its been so long.

So much has happened, so much has changed.

“Then…” He drawls, voice losing some of its humor. He’s serious when he inquires, “How do you feel about the Mid-West?”

/

She doesn’t tell Enid she spoke to him. She doesn’t tell anyone. Never talks about the letters.

Thing wouldn’t know if not for his habit of being in crevices he shouldn’t. Wednesday had been too high strung on her own nerves to check.

She just knew she had time. Enid was having lunch with her pack and preparing for change.

Transitions in the group as time passes on. People graduating early…people graduating at all. She doesn’t know what to do with the cap and gown order form she’s sent. She’s applied to a few universities, most in lieu of her own aching soul.

She didn’t necessarily think she would be crossing over with Enid. Hadn’t thought too deeply ahead with the two of them. Part of her had expected to parish. To wilt away as she watched the wolf get engaged to Ajax and haul off to UCLA, or something.

They both want to write, albeit their pen had different muse.

Enid kept up in print, in gossip columns and fashion articles. Wednesday didn’t care for other people’s business or feelings and spent nights battling with her own. Takes out the notebook Enid had given her again, runs her hands across the soft leather and then lets her nails catch.

Dense grooves that don’t do much other than remind her how unworthy she feels. When she thinks of Enid handing it off to her again, with her sewing supplies askew on her bed.

She still doesn’t know how to fill it. She thinks Enid may as well have given it to her page-less.

Maybe with her confession. Taint the parchment with her raven’s talons like she does with everything else.

Plan her apparent upcoming departure…

Wednesday finds herself walking, like an aimless waif. Barely sees the hall ahead of her, barely hears the chattering or attempts to get her acknowledgment. She doesn’t have a destination.

She didn’t think she did. Perhaps she just needed air. She could’ve gone on the balcony for that, but…maybe it was too familiar.

Tyler’s been in her room before. A few times.

She’s rounding corners and after making it to the first floor she finds herself going down, down below.

The Lupin cages.

She’s in a chamber illuminated by candle light. Clanking metal from large cages that loom in the corner. A grand table sat as well, to hold conference.

She thinks she’s caught the tail end of something. They’re standing and smiling at each other, the meeting goers. They’re exchanging hand shakes and howls that make her ear drums quake.

Boisterous dogs.

But even with all the commotion, of course she should know her stealth was no match for a nosey snout.

“You looking for something?” A voice asks, not in her space but leaning forward by tip of a sniffing nose.

He’s a shorter boy, with dark hair coiled close to his scalp. Curious olive eyes and skin browner than her own. He’s dressed in his nevermore tie and trousers, looking at her funny.

She supposed she’s out of place.

“Oh,” He perks up after a couple more inhales. He smiles, “You must be Sinclair’s new intended.”

It battled in her chest, a mix of her shame, embarrassment, guilt and forced apathy. She just nods curtly, arms crossed and narrowed eyes looking past him.

“There has to be some type of etiquette with those snouts of yours,” She replies with a frown of her own lack of comfort in feeling so exposed. “It’s incredibly invasive.”

The boy looks akin to Enid, with sharp canines that grin at her indignation. Even more so when he blanches, tucking his tail between his legs at the commanding pink boot of his Alpha.

A resounding squeak as the wolf placed herself by Wednesday’s side.

“Dre. I thought I told you to keep watch,” Enid’s authority was certainly something to witness. She stood with her chest puffed out, hand on her hip and eyes glowing brighter than the candle wick. It has the boy, or Dre rather—bowing his head.

“S-Sorry Enid, just got distracted is all.” He explains and its comical if not only because he’s far taller than her. Short for other werewolf boys in their class, but still he stood at least 5’8 to Enid’s 5’3. The boy nervously flits, “She smelled funny, but then I realized it was just you.”

Enid’s composure breaks just slightly, as if she hadn’t been aware of the way she’d been scenting her so often. She’s not sure the hang time between the ritual—never got close enough to Ajax without her in the room to know.

She just knew the last time she’d been near the gorgon, the only flower he smelled like had been marijuana.

Wednesday had almost thought herself further declining into madness, at the way her nostrils so consistently held that pollen like smell. It certainly flustered her to high heavens she felt unworthy to witness, when the wolf would shove her face into her neck.

Or vice versa, when she allowed herself to be held. When Enid cradled her head, pressing her close to the scent gland in her neck.

She watches, non committal in her eavesdropping as Enid yanked the boy by his arm to lean in close. The whispers have his ears twitching and eyes moving about in concentration.

He grins when Enid releases him and they bump foreheads and then elbows. Wednesday blows air through her nose in amusement—she wonders what the sentiment of it was, but even more so she feels warm.

Her chest expands harshly, watching Enid in her element. To see her amongst friends—amongst her pack the way she’s always been meant to. The title she was thrown into, after…

“Hey,” Enid’s hand grabs her, quite literally. She’s tender, even in this meeting of rowdy beasts, hands so soft and smelling faintly of Thing’s fancy lotion. Fingers curve under her jaw to bring her eyes over. “What brings you to my neck of the woods.”

The unconscious pull. The urge to selfishly cloak herself in wolf’s clothing when she’s scared.

“Maybe I wanted to return the favor, from last time.” It sounds tempting from her tongue, she’s sure it distracts her wolf if only for a moment. Enid obviously remembers, brows twitching in recognition.

The locker room. The fencing match with Bianca. The locker room again.

“I can hear your heart beat,” The taller girl murmured, hand moving up to brush hair from her face. “You sound like you ran all the way here.”

Its not accusing, theres a lift of amusement in her voice.

Wednesday thinks she may as well paint it on. Should’ve transcribed her conversation with Tyler and tattooed it to flesh.

Wear her shame.

“I’m not sure why I’m here. I felt…” Wednesday looks to the wolf’s chest, studying every strand of yarn in her vest. Counting the flecks of lint on her tie.

Until Enid brings her close, enveloping her in a hug. Holds her to her chest so tight, she has no choice but to be in the moment. Enid’s everywhere, repotting new sunflowers in her dreary garden. Casting sunlight to her drooping petals.

Uses both hands to wrap around her back and grip her tautly.

“S’okay, you can sit with me,” Enid mumbles as she plants kisses to the top of her head. She giggles at how Wednesday’s face scrunches up, kissing her forehead and then both cheeks. She grins, “We were almost done, I was just talking to everyone about the super moon.”

Enid leads her with quirk of her head to the grandiose table. She wondered how they got anything done, considering the chairs were seemingly for show. Furs stood and chatted, along with lounging on the table itself.

Eyes, noses and ears all perk as she walks to the head with her wolf. At least thats what it would look like, wouldn’t it? Enid sliding the chair out and having her sit. The blonde towering behind her, leaning over the back.

“Don’t get too many non mated normies down here.” A girl quips to her left, garnering a few giggles from their peers. Wednesday keeps still, though she frowns at thought of herself being a normie.

Surely she didn’t smell human, but she was a far cry from a werewolf.

“Someone sounds bitter they don’t have one going into the season.” Enid claps back, though it doesn’t sound upset. She just sounds confident—that certain swagger that nearly made Wednesday double take anytime she heard it.

That tone the Alpha took on—and Lucifer have mercy on anyone who doesn’t obey.

“Petition to throw Asher’s party early since he’s a fuckin nerd and graduating already,” A boy yells, only to be grabbed into a headlock by who Wednesday could only assume is Asher.

Enid leans forward, her head going atop Wednesday’s and flustering the seer even more so. She already felt terribly out of place.

“I’ve been talking to this normie jock that would totally let us use his parent’s fancy house.” One of the pack members mentions, getting a groan of disapproval from another.

“Ugh, I’m so bored of house parties…any of these rich kids got a yacht connect?”

“My wolf hates getting wet!”

“Is that why you smell like that?”

Wednesday’s eyes flicker back and fro the length of the table. It feels like she’s intruding on something. She is intruding on something. She’s not in this pack. She’s just here to hide under Enid—again.

“We can just do a big hunt and have Professor Wolfgang and some others come with to chaperone. Then, we can go deeper in the mountains.” Enid’s voice of reason comes, before she can drown fully in her thoughts. She just keeps her eyes down, unblinking and praying that the other wolves are looking up.

At their Alpha—not the pathetic bird, taking solace under something stronger.

The rest of the eager yips and rowdy conversation feels like a tunnel. No start or end to a sentence that sticks, like water running and echoing through a wall. Her ear up to a shell, hearing so much of nothing she could trick herself into thinking she truly is oceanside. Enid’s arms, though bulky, warm and tight; she feels like she’s watching herself from above.

She does like what she sees. And she thinks that to be the problem.

She doesn’t deserve this.

“Weds?”

This voice is direct in her ear. It pushes against her ear drums, against the pressure of the thoughts she’s drowning in; the words sound submerged, murky and cloudy. Until Enid’s cupping her face, bringing her to the surface, and raising them both above water. Thumbs stroke tension away, smooth against her cheekbones. Ironing out the knots in her stomach.

“Wednesday…hey—are you good? Do you wanna head back to the room?” Enid’s whispering to her and only her. The rest of her pack’s chatter fades into nothing, as she becomes center of the wolf’s attention. “We can get out of here whenever. We already talked about the ‘important’ junk, now they’re all just messing around.”

She feels incredibly small suddenly.

Even with Enid lowering herself, with her wolf at her feet, having sensed her mental anguish. Loyal, so, so very devoted—ignorant to all else in more ways than one. It makes the seer sick to her stomach. She shouldn’t have come here. She shouldn’t have interrupted this.

She’s pathetic. She’s still lying—always lying.

“It wasn’t my intention to interfere,” She manages to voice. As evenly as she can, making Enid’s brows furrow.

“Hey, you’re not interfering with anything. I told you it was ok,” Her wolf tries to make it better. Those strong, warm hands tracing down to her shoulders. She gets a bit a mirth back in her eye, “Plus I’m the pack leader. I get perks—like deciding to end early, because my girl needs cuddles and alone time.”

My girl.

Its so mind numbingly soft. Enid’s shown her (in more ways than one) a side of herself that demanded possession; the wolf that claimed to want no other, as no other should want her. Wednesday still had a hard time comprehending being wanted at all. There’s ways in which she knows herself impeccable. Academically she excells, though not in any way the education system appreciates.

But, she was also grand in causing harm. It’s something she can’t say she’s never held pride in.

She was a raven, a scavenger, a seer of death and despair. And she can’t honestly tell herself she hasn’t ever enjoyed or benefited from that either. She’s an Addams. She was born rotted, as was meant to be the heart that lay black and still beating inside her chest.

Enid was the sun.

Wednesday’s kind were meant to roam the night.

Still…there’s that moment of dawn, isn’t there? Where the moon’s visible as day breaks. Her nightly discretions on grave display. She feels so hot, she can’t tell if its sweat or morning’s dew.

“I’m sorry.”

She whispers it; but she doesn’t think she knows where the lamenting begins and ends. Enid nods in understanding regardless. She goes to address her pack, having decided for her.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out now!” She calls, getting a few head turns. “Text me the deets for the party stuff…if you can decide before the next meeting.”

Its teasing and light, contrasting with the encumbering weight of her personal guilt. Enid’s nobility, her place as a leader that she had naturally adjusted to. She knew the wolf still held doubts, considering the circumstances of her shifting, but Wednesday could name quite a few failures much more prominent.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Wednesday murmurs as they walk down a quiet castle hall. Their steps echo, everyone either in class or the quad at this hour. They walk side by side but not hand in hand; she feels even more selfish taking that too. “I could’ve gone back on my own.”

“Why’d you come looking for me if you were so worried about me worrying?” Enid asks instead of repeating herself again. And its a ponderous question, because she doesn’t have an answer herself. She’s been trying to figure it out since she left the room to begin with.

“I was…in the area,” May as well keep lying. This one was sure to be dismantled soon enough, though that just made feel even slimier.

She hadn’t even been on this side of the school. Enid could smell it if she really wanted to.

“And I really care about you, Wednesday,” Enid presses. She stops walking, taking the initiative to grab her hand and pull her into her chest. “I don’t wanna keep messing up with you.”

She’s the one that feels like she’d ruined things.

Her pack meeting, her relationship with Ajax, and now again (possibly) her safety. More glaringly—her trust.

“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to. My wolf just needs to…you know,” Enid sheepishly explains. Wednesday only swallows and buries her face in the purple vest. Where the beast inside, that, for some anomalous reason wanted her there.

/

Perhaps this beast had merely lured her, with sweet nothings. Made her feel a sense of faux safety, her wings docking and feet perched low enough to the ground to be hunted. In maw’s reach to be devoured. Canines full of feathers, though not her own—she’s unsure if she’s thankful for that.

Enid had her on her bed this time. On her floral patterned comforter, still terribly girly but much more mature than the palette of her freshman year.

Wednesday had insisted she was fine. After the wolf had tackled her to the bed with hugs and cuddling her so close she could pop. As always, inevitably that button nose winds up in her neck, sniffing her down like a hound. She’s too out of it to give her a hard time about her more canine attributes, her mind still far above the action below. Her body was always sensitive to Enid, though.

Theres something soft playing on Enid’s speaker, keeping cadence with those frisky hands on her waist. When the sniffling turns to lips against her skin.

She squirms, like she always does when Enid touches her like this. Like she desires her. A hand goes up her shirt, just barely as finger tips tickle her belly. Like stroking her blackened feathers, as if she’s not a symbol of the wolf’s every downfall. As if she wasn’t the reason for the scars on her face and body.

“Is this ok, baby?” Enid coos between gentle like kisses on side of her neck. “I wanna help you get out of your head…relax…”

She whimpers when the hand presses firmly against her stomach. When her nails scratch her up and it makes her mouth part and breath hitch. Her heart and head racing for a new reason. The kisses are wet up and down her skin—the wolf licks a stripe up to her ear. More flustered noises escape her against her will and steel.

“You sound so sexy,” Enid’s mouth is hot on her ear. The words push against the doubt and shame that bounced around her skull. “And smell so fucking good…”

Both hands are on her now, one stroking her stomach with blunt nails and the other dangerously close to cupping her breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra, as she hadn’t expected to leave the room. This didn’t affect Enid’s goal, which was shaping to be the mound of her tits, cupping her right one like she owned it.

The guttural growl that comes from behind her has her legs squeezing together. The hand on her belly goes down below the button to push her ass back into her. It presses her impossibly closer, but the wolf can’t get close enough.

“Lift you leg,” Its gravely and wolfish, she can’t help but obey. Her right thigh held up, as Enid’s is shoved in between. They both make noises of carnal pleasure, though only Enid begins to move. Shifting her hips for her, so her crotch is rubbing directly on her leg. Wednesday gasps at every twitch.

The wolf, swift and hungry makes easy work, with such a small bird in its grasp. And especially one as willing as she. Naive and flown too close to Earth.

The wolf reveals her insides. Teeth dig into her flesh, showing her beating heart and bloody, weeping organs. If she keeps tearing into her, keeps getting closer—Wednesday feared the wolf would find too much. Parts of this lowly scavenger that belonged so low on the food chain. Maybe she isn’t so worthy.

Not that she had ever deluded herself to believe so.

“I-I can’t…” She tries break from the wolf’s grasp. Her weaker limbs trapped, she doesn’t know if Enid’s paying attention. Another thing she’s interrupting—ruining. Wednesday swallows, speaking louder, “Enid. Stop…please.”

Her voice isn’t as strong as she’s trying to be. The wolf ceased her ministrations, moving her leg and scooting away but not leaving her. She’s quiet, aside from shuffling and movement from the mattress. Wednesday just feels so fucking guilty.

Because she can’t give Enid what she needs. In so many increasingly overt ways, she can’t be what her wolf needs.

She wraps her arms around herself, refusing to turn and face the girl she keeps disappointing. She feels her eyes burning, like she could stoop low enough to cry. She has no right.

“I’m sorry!” Enid blurts very suddenly from behind. She still doesn’t turn around, but the blonde starts babbling, “I-I don’t mean to pressure you or anything…its ok if you’re not ready to go any further. Did…have I hurt you?”

Her head shakes jerkily, before she can begin to process. She’s still throbbing from her touch. She just needs Enid to know she hasn’t done anything. Its her that’s made a mess of things.

“Never.” She muttered, after a beat. One of her hands fisted the comforter—had been since Enid pressed her thigh into her center. The trepidation had simply shifted targets.

“I’m such a horn dog—God,” Enid groans, sounds absolutely mortified. “I totally didn’t mean to come onto you when you were just upset about something…”

That something being Tyler. The fact that not even a day had passed since she sat across the room and spoke with him. The way that he claimed to want to see her.

He asked her to visit. Gave her an address and a time frame. 

He’s the reason Enid bares scars on her face and body to this very day. She didn’t tell him no—she said she’d ‘think about it.’ Didn’t know what he would do she outright declined. He’s known to retaliate, even under the guise of having been rehabilitated.

She feels ill. Guilt bubbling into bile in back of her throat. She swallows it down and it burns.

“Is—“ Enid starts and stop, sounding like she’s deciding something behind her. “Would it be ok if I held you again? Not like that, obvi…I just wanna be there for you. Honestly.”

She sounds embarrassed, regretful of her actions for reasons she shouldn’t be. Wednesday wants so badly to deny her, fearing that if she got any closer it would mean her demise even sooner.

“Please.” She croaks, because in the end she is a selfish person. An Addams, a product of her parents; a person who unfortunately craves touch and comfort, just as anyone else.

And Enid was giving. Above all else, her wolf was more often selfless.

“Ok, let me change out of this uniform real quick, baby, I’ll be right back.” She gets a kiss on the cheek as Enid runs to her closet. She closes her eyes and tries to even her breathing. Tries to quell the burning.

Until Enid’s clambering limbs are boneless on top of her; she’s quick to rewrap herself around the seer’s stiff body. Head buried in back of her neck anew. This time with intention to rest, as this position was a more familiar one.

She just still didn’t feel like she deserved this.

/

She’s sitting in their apothecary and potions class when an invitation is slid over to her on the desk. Its heart shaped and the script cursive and ornate. She doesn’t say anything, as she had been leaning a head on her hand otherwise awaiting another boring class of material she already learned at home. She never acknowledged these harebrained schemes.

Bianca trying to siphon her presence.

“You gonna open it?” The siren prods from her seat next to her. At her blank stare she only smiles, “Aw, are you too shy to read it in front of me? How cute.”

Wednesday narrows her eyes, before she decides that if she must indulge this particular beast, she would drag her feet. She takes her time peering down at what was essentially another excuse to be inebriated and obnoxious under guise of a holiday.

She doesn’t breathe a word as she rips the heart straight down the middle spitefully and slow. Unfortunately the only reaction she gets is an amused snort.

“Figures—well, its a good thing Enid got her’s first.” She tries and fails to not let the obviously bait comment affect her outwardly. Bianca rolls her eyes, “Oh please, you can blame Yoko for that. Invites from me directly are rare.”

Wednesday pushes over the torn heart invitation, brow raised.

“Your little cut out begs to differ.” She drawled in faux sadness, though the siren looks indifferent.

“Nah, I totally knew you were gonna destroy it. Just wanted to see your face…” Bianca trails with a smirk of delight at her glaring face. “And I was gonna be nosey, but I see the big bad wolf must’ve gotten cold paws.”

Wednesday doesn’t entertain her unasked question, as its far from innocent. Inquiring about her status with Enid, as if she cared for any resson other than finding issue with the wolf. Because Bianca’s never been fond of Enid. She just used Wednesday as ammo in her loaded gun complex.

“How is that going by the way?” Bianca asks, tone unreadable. Suspiciously so.

The first place her tortured mind decides to roam, is Enid’s bed.

The way the wolf held her between its claws and teeth. The pressure of her thigh between her legs. The fact that she felt too unworthy to allow it to continue. And then she’s back thinking about the Hyde and her web of lies in attempt to keep the wolf in the dark. 

She blows air from her nose, frustrated with many things—too many to narrow down.

“This is study hall, not gossip corner.”

“And yet I don’t see a book in sight,” Bianca nods towards the lack of anything but a pen in front of her. She hadn’t taken anything else out before the siren started bothering her. Not that it mattered, she looked all too smug, “How convenient for me.”

“The way you waste your free time inquiring about her so often, I have half a mind to believe you’ve some hidden affinity for Enid yourself.”

“Fortunately for you, I’m more of a bat person,” Bianca deadpans. “I meant because, I haven’t seen you on the piste all week. Just making sure she didn’t chew your uniform or have an accident on your boots.”

Wednesday clicks her teeth, tiring of the digs. Because Bianca thinks she knows things. Thinks Enid’s the one in the wrong, when she’s holding an entirely different invitation in her back pocket. Metaphorically, of course—she doesn’t think even her own unblinking poker face could hide one of Tyler’s letters.

The phone call still gnawed the back of her head. His voice rang in her ears. If she closed her eyes…she could see herself in a dark Jericho forest again; lifted by a beast that had not the slightest care for her life, other than to take it.

How does it feel to lose?

Whats going on in that head of yours, Addams?

Wednesday inhales at the siren’s voice prodding her mind. Piercing through her thoughts soft as a stream, eyes laden in uncharacteristic concern. It makes her feel even more pitiful. Her feelings so grossly on display and overt.

“I’m fine,” She doesn’t try to sound convincing, nor does she. Doesn’t look at those eery blue eyes. “You’ve no reason to concern yourself about my personal affairs.”

Bianca’s chair audibly moves with how quick she scoots in closer to her to grab her uniform jacket by the lapel. Like she’s scolding the seer. 

“Like it or not, we’re friends dead girl,” Bianca counters. At her questioning look, she rolls her eyes again. “I’ve known you for how long now? We play on the same team, I see you damn near every day…unless you’re in one one of your little brooding, Phantom of then Opera kinda moods. Like now.”

“How observant of you,” Wednesday swallows and Bianca releases her, only after she feels her message apparently stuck. She smoothes out the wrinkles in her jacket as the siren continues.

“Point is—I’ve come to care about your psychotic ass,” Bianca jibes, knocking her foot with hers. Then more seriously and lower in volume, “And I can tell something happened. I know you’re sprung and think Enid can do no wrong, but—“

“Its not Enid, its—“ Wednesday can’t help herself but interrupt. She’s being too loud. She’s getting other eyes in the room on them. She grits her teeth, making the impulse decision, “Not here. I don’t particularly enjoy this audience.”

Bianca purses her lips, noting the awkward silence when they stop talking, but doesn’t argue.

“I’ll let it slide,” She relents, but tags on, “But we will be revisiting.”

“After class,” Wednesday reassured, confirming before she can take it back or regret it. “I’ll be sure to attend today’s practice.”

Bianca thankfully decides to leave it at that, finally unpacking her own things.

Apparently she had simply come to sit next to her and study. It makes her feel a mix of things, including the strange fuzziness in her belly at the siren’s mention of caring for her. Not the same all encompassing, everything that came when Enid looked her way. With Bianca it felt more what one would probably call platonic.

Like they truly were comrades. Friends even.

She had no real rhyme or reason to hide the return of Tyler from Bianca. He hadn’t harmed the siren in the same way he’d attacked her wolf. And she didn’t feel the same guilt when she looked into Bianca’s blue eyes.

Chapter Text

“You’re an idiot,” She knows this to be a bluff; her grades were well up to par with the siren’s own. Though she’d sooner call herself generally unwell, versus insulting her own intelligence. “You’re so fucking stupid, Wednesday what the hell, bruh?”

Bianca tosses a letter she was reading back at her. The envelope pitifully falls to the ground, back in the bin with the rest of them. She didn’t feel safe letting the siren read them anywhere else.

Thus leading to the scene of: Bianca sitting on end of her bed and crossing her legs in waiting. Being slid a shoe box worth of envelopes and looking so confused until she was no longer.

Enid was gone for the evening, indefinitely as whatever team sport she was doing this semester held her attention. Regardless, she’d probably not be happy in knowing Bianca was in here without notifying her first. Wednesday never cared this much about other’s opinions.

She opted to ignoring it as best she could. Ignore the gnawing feeling like a rush of adrenaline at the thought of being caught.

“And Sinclair has no idea? About any of this?” Bianca questions incredulously. Wednesday’s silence answers her question, garnering an equally bewildered laugh. “How did you manage that one? She’s so up your ass I’m surprised she can see anything other than your every move.”

With Bianca talking down to her, flustering her pink. Not in anyway that was incriminating—at least not in that way. Regardless, she doesn’t see a single way in which Enid would remain unscathed.

Emotionally speaking.

“She’s innocent in this,” Wednesday stubbornly replies. Closes the lid to Tyler’s pile of letters and levels the siren with a stare from where she’s bent down. “Would you involve Yoko if your mother started sending you letters from her compound?”

A chill permeates the air. Brilliant eyes shine so blue she almost regrets her words.

“Low fucking blow, Little Miss prison penpal,” Bianca retorts in lieu of shaking her. She clicks her teeth spitefully saying, “And yeah, I would tell Yoko, actually. Relationships are built on trust, not petty fucking lies.”

Its biting. And painstakingly true. It rolls off her shoulders like most well wishes do.

“Its not petty when life of my beloved is at stake.” She mutters, not particularly caring what Bianca thought of that. She’s only doing what the siren had begged for.

Nosing in her business only to be dissatisfied with what she found.

“You’re not seriously considering leaving to visit that psycho, are you? I know you’re a glutton for punishment and a text book masochist, but even you can’t be self centered enough to think you’d be able to just…?” Bianca gestures, eyes searching her face for something. Something Wednesday can’t give. The siren shakes her head. She bursts out into a laugh, shaking her head all the while, “You want me to cover for you…don’t you?”

“It would only be for a short while—“

“‘Short while’ my ass, Wednesday, I’m not doing this shit again!” Bianca retorts, growing less humored and more frustrated. “Was it not enough I used my powers on Ajax for you? Lied to my girlfriend not once, not twice, not even three times—and I’m probably gonna have to even more, because you’re being a selfish prick for the nth time.”

Again, she doesn’t blink. Doesn’t let the words have any outward effect. She knows she’s rotted—she’s a raven. An Addams.

She makes her dinner out of the misfortune of others.

“You knew of my nature before you asked me what was wrong. It is no fault of mine if you’re not satisfied with my methods,” Wednesday replies. Then, softer with a sigh and tensed jaw, “I do ask you keep this to yourself. No matter what your decision, or opinion of me is currently.”

Bianca stands to her full height, looking down at her with harsh eyes and a stiff lip. She shakes her head, laughing humorlessly.

“I’ll think about it…not like I won’t have the time,” Her words are condescendingly close. The siren’s head nods in direction of her room’s door. “Since I think you have bigger fish to fry right about—“

Her words are accompanied by Enid slamming the door open. She tended to be heavy handed on accident, not knowing her own increased strength when she was already abnormally so; wolfing out just made it worse. And Wednesday could appreciate the brute force of it any other day.

“Hey, Weds—“

Accompanied with those clear blue eyes looking woefully confused, then immediately suspicious was rather distracting, however.

Bianca grins at the werewolf girl’s entrance.

“—Now. Perfect time to leave,” The siren announced loudly. Makes a show of running a hand along Wednesday’s shoulder, knowing the girl would smack at her, but that wasn’t the point. Bianca winks at her, “Its not the same now that its not just the two of us. Threes a crowd and all that…you get it, don’t you, Sinclair?”

Wednesday wishes she could send out her own mental signals. Threaten the siren to cease her meaningless prodding of the werewolf. Riling her up and making Enid toss her bag by the door extra roughly.

“Yeah, I do—we actually had a movie night planned today, so try not to let the door hit you too hard on the way out.” Enid warns faux sweetly, with a smile that looked tight. “Wouldn’t wanna waste anymore time taking you to the nurse’s office.”

Bianca only smiles, cocky as she saunters to the door way next to where Enid was still by the shoe rack.

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t be the one sending you,” Bianca murmured, but Wednesday still hears. She says something else, likely no less cheeky, but she doesn’t catch it.

Only the way Enid growls and bares her fangs, before the siren skips out like she’d done nothing. And technically she didn’t do anything wrong here. Wednesday had provoked her—the seer was no stranger to karma.

“God, I hate that—ugh,” Enid rolls her eyes and shuts the door. Makes a show of locking it extra loud, before leaning back against it with an angry frown. Just as quickly as her eyes are burning bright and a growl bubbles up her throat, she’s breathing slow in and out. Then, she’s beaming at her again, grin goofy but tired.

She barrels onto Wednesday’s bed, mindful of touching too much and so soon. Unless otherwise impassioned, the wolf didn’t cross that threshold without asking.

Always so respectful of her wishes. Her time and her space, even when she didn’t understand.

“Hey…” Enid mumbles, looking up at her from her spot on her belly. She rests her head on her arms and watches Wednesday sit stiff on her own bed as always. “Sorry for being a bitch to your ‘friend.’”

The werewolf uses a hand to make air quotes. She definitely didn’t understand that—her camaraderie with Bianca was something she herself didn’t know how to classify on a good day.

“She likely deserved it to some capacity,” Wednesday shrugs. She makes the mistake of looking to her right. Craning her neck and glimpsing that terribly kissable face. She falls slowly to her back, like a corpse being laid to coffin.

They lay like that for a while, just looking at each other. Like there’s a test to study for, about the intricacies of each mole on the other’s face. Each freckle in the eye.

“Didn’t realize she was coming over today…not that you have to tell me, but I might’ve held my tongue a little if I had been prepped.” Enid back tracks, not looking at her any longer while she speaks. She moves a finger along her comforter, poking her lips out. “What were you guys talking about? Fencing junk?”

Its inquisitive for reasons both innocent and not. Enid’s been handling Bianca’s juvenile provocations a lot better ever since they’ve become closer.

Ever since they’ve been…what most would refer to as ‘together.’ Though they’ve yet to define with those silly little words—titles. That moniker that would cement the meaning of every touch (every kiss) between them. That would leave no room for question in regard to their feelings.

Maybe…

Maybe Enid just didn’t want to.

(Maybe she just didn’t really want her.)

“Something like that…” She murmurs, not meeting Enid’s eyes anymore either. “You know Bianca. She likes to meddle where she shouldn’t.”

“Trust, I know she’s big on mind games,” Enid scoffs to herself. Then she raises up on her knees and stretches wide. “I wasn’t just trying to kick out Bianca when I mentioned being in the mood for a movie, though. …Not entirely.”

The werewolf winks at her, giggling when Wednesday rolls her eyes at her and shoves a pillow in her direction.

“Your pick this time. Nothing animated, however.”

“But they just put the anime I wanted to see on streaming!”

/

Wednesday should expect the second confrontation. These things come in droves. Where the fish gathered, a hungry predator would follow. And while vampires aren’t textbook aquatic creatures, they don’t exactly sink.

Didn’t need to breathe. No fear of drowning.

And while Yoko Tanaka was known by most of the class as an avid clown—she had decades of knowledge to slack off with. Wednesday knew this herself, in being a top student and having subjects come to her so naturally.

It gave you time to plot and plan. To people watch—recon and observe.

She sees it in a vision, first.

The way she’s followed down a hall, cornered near the Nightshade library entrance; she wasn’t even doing anything particularly sneaky that day. It would’ve been oh so unsuspecting, if not for her so called gift. The second she rounds a corner, she gets a chill up her spine.

She places a hand on a column to steady herself when she sees it—

Herself, being grabbed once again and taken to be tied to a chair. She sees her hands straining against its wooden arms and a smug vampire with hands on her hips and observing.

Wednesday liked the chase, though. Figured she wasn’t doing anything else worth her lunch.

She doesn’t hear the vampire encroaching upon her, for all her bravado. A nocturnal creature such as herself had adapted to the soft sounds of night. The stillness needed to catch unsuspecting prey in absence of light and sound.

“You’re not putting up much of a fight?” Yoko murmurs, when she grows sick of stalking her. When she merely has Wednesday backed into a corner. “Don’t tell me you actually feel bad? I had a whole plan to rough you up for pissing Bianca off the other night. I expected more of the knife up your sleeve or a razor blade hidden under your tongue sorta thing. You’re kinda killing my vibe being so damn…agreeable.”

The vampire makes a face, because the adjective didn’t fit well with the situation or Wednesday Addams.

“I reap what I sow,” Wednesday says simply. Its karma. The way the world turns.

Things decided before she was even born. Tanaka should understand better than even she. Or, maybe that lay in where their perspectives part.

She didn’t know how old Yoko was, if she’s truly being honest. She could gage with personal knowledge of history, but the leech adapted well enough to its environment. Full of its morning let of blood from a willing patient.

“So you’re gonna tell me why my girlfriend’s in a pissy mood after hanging out with you? Without having to make this harder than it needs to be?” Yoko questions, not sounding like she believes it either.

Likely spilled along with plasma on the vampire’s tongue. It was enough to draw confession, being within an inch of your life. Or—more hauntingly—pleasure.

Wednesday preferred not delve into it.

“I’m surprised she didn’t tell you herself,” She counters. “She was…less than pleased with me the last time we saw each other.”

The siren had been glaring holes at her. Skipping fencing practice sessions—only the ones with Wednesday. The ones that weren’t mandatory; a symbol of the girl’s emotions, as she typically didn’t pass up a chance to fight her.

Not was Bianca Barclay a person to stand down in face of any a person she’d met so far.

“And why was that, again?” Yoko tries to garner some sort of hint of the situation she’s shoved herself in. Wednesday only stares at her, not particularly inclined to do much else.

“Your interrogation skills leave much to be desired. Truly,” The seer sighs to herself. “I possess foresight, as I’m sure you remember? Some battles are best left.”

She explains why she’s even allowing this question and non-answer session. How she let this happen, for sake of not denying what was fated; or maybe a bit of sympathy for someone her heart had an unfortunate soft spot for.

That just makes the vampire grunt in dissatisfaction.

“You’re lucky I don’t just tell Enid on you,” Yoko relents. Its after a stint of glaring at her through her sun glasses with a comical pout.

So much for intimidation tactics.

“Would you like to watch me be put over her knee and swatted as well?” Wednesday deadpans, “I’m sure Bianca would love to know her pet leech is a voyeur.”

Yoko gets a look on her face, one more dangerous than it appeared.

“She did tell me that this has something to do with the Crackstone incident.” She reveals the bit of knowledge she did hold. She leans closer at the way it makes her heart stutter ever so slightly. “You’re not planning on reviving that shit again…are you? I mean I know you’re a bat shit—no pun intended—masochist, but—“

“You must not only need blood, but a brain—of course not.” Wednesday cuts her off before she even insinuated it. She’s enough holes in her chest, if she’s forced to continue living.

“Look…I know its not my place, but Enid’s worried—no, like seriously,” Yoko emphasizes. Sees a protest or mention of the wolf’s emotional nature in her eye. “She’s loyal to a fault. Like a damn golden retriever.”

Like the Pavlov and his subjects, without the revisionist history that erased the pain; the force of submission and loss in obedience.

Hands on her hips, the vampire shakes her head.

Wednesday feels an ache somewhere in the upper left part of her chest. An attempt on her most major artery; its natural she assumes the defensive.

“Likening a werewolf you call a best friend to a common house pet. Dare I say I expected better from you, Tanaka,” She retorts. She can tell the fang rolls her eyes under neath her glasses.

“Don’t bullshit me Addams,” Yoko condescends. “What I’m getting at is—that doesn’t mean she’s stupid. Far from it, actually. I’ve been alive way longer than any of you and I still borrow her notes.”

“She is as dangerous as she is cunning. Unexpectedly so,” Wednesday muses. Disarmingly so, was a bright pink wolf as she was tempting. “The gift of gab doesn’t come without a few casualties.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Yoko deadpans. “You’re doing a great job talking us in circles.”

Wednesday sighs, heavy and tired.

“What is it you desire from this?”

There was nothing to gain, entangling with a raven; her kind only took. A born scavenger, disguised by her title of sleuth.

“Take me with you.”

Yoko says it with conviction, even though she delivers it with a shrug. Wednesday scoffs, her apathy broken in genuine surprise at the offer.

“Excuse me?” Wednesday’s incredulous, showing the most emotion Yoko’s probably seen from her since her and Enid’s unholy union. This was nothing pleasant, however. There was no love in her heart when she thinks of the Hyde.

There wasn’t enough room with the anger, the guilt, rue and what was growing into monumental levels of desperation. Because her first instinct isn’t to tell the vampire girl no.

“Whatever crazy, fucked up, nostalgia kick you’re on right now. You’re planning something,” Yoko presses. Then amends, “To go somewhere…you’re more easy to read than you think, Addams. All of you work the same—thats genetics for you, I guess.”

That both answers a few questions and opens a plethora of others of which she’d rather wake Crackstone again than ask.

“Figures,” Wednesday murmurs. “Gonna threaten to tell my great, great, great grandmother that loaned you a pen during class some odd years ago?”

Tanaka had habit, like an unspoken agreement the two of them had made; she always alluded to knowing Addams of yesterday. Relatives that may or may not be still kicking.

“I’m not that old,” Yoko scrunches up her nose. “Your family just has a reputation is all…besides, if I was gonna tattle I’d just bug Weems about it. Thats way more entertaining than trying to see if I still have your mom’s number.”

Wednesday doesn’t dare reply to that. She heaves a sigh so heavy it sounds painful.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be any more discouraged than you are now?” She relents, without waving a white flag, seeing the vampire smugly shrug her shoulders and grin. “Very well, then. I extend to you the same as I did your blood bag.”

A shot at Bianca, if not only because this bit is partially her fault. Yoko clicks her teeth, smirking like she’s won something up until Wednesday hands her the same letter she let Bianca read. And for her part, the leech gets a ways through it before she seems to comprehend what exactly she’s holding.

The glasses slide down her nose, revealing wide eyes that dart about the page and brows knitted in concentration.

“What…the…” Yoko’s mouth hangs open, then she’s balling up the paper in her hands and picking her up by the shirt collar. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Well, this isn’t how she anticipated things going. However, she can’t say its not entirely in the cards.

“Well, yes,” She replies very plainly. She cocks her head, “I’m an Addams.”

“This isn’t funny Addams—do you even know where Tyler is staying right now?” Yoko asks, after jostling her about and getting more frustrated with her lack of expression or reaction. Granted, Wednesday assumed the question rhetorical. Yoko drops her with exasperation, “You don’t, do you? Fucking figures!”

Wednesday smoothes out her ruffled uniform top, observing the display of force turned tantrum curiously.

Tyler didn’t tell her much. He never did. Always just enough to make her dig deeper, til her hands are too full of soil and Earth to defend herself from what loomed above. Buried deeper than any bone, even paws couldn’t uncover if she wasn’t careful.

“And you do?” She retorts, at the lack of much other than manic pacing. Then she sees harsh eyes, even through the sunglasses.

“Unfortunately,” Yoko answers. With her lip curled up, like she’s far less pleased than even she. And Wednesday prides herself on being on to dig between the lines, but she doesn’t quite understand. Not until Yoko bitterly drops a hint. “You know who loves taking scorned outcasts with fragile minds and no support?”

Her brows furrow in both doubt and disbelief. And she receives a fanged smile in return, but its not kind. Its the most fire she’s seen from Tanaka in all her time here.

“Fucking Morning Song…” The vampire whispers it like a slur.

“Oh…” She mumbles, arms useless at her sides in tandem with how she feels in that moment.

“Yeah, ‘oh’---no wonder Bi’s in a mood!” The vampire rants. A fang chews on her lip, before she points at Wednesday like she’s decided something. “You wanna mess around with that shit, you sure as hell aren’t getting far on your own. They literally have a compound, locked down and barely any service.”

Its solid information. More than she likely deserved; her and Bianca both had reason to let her walk directly to her death. Or, perhaps the rare granted opportunity to see if she can escape a cult.

“You still wish to accompany me?” Wednesday insures, obviously more than a bit skeptical.

Considering both their proximity to Enid. And the fact that she’d successfully poked at another open wound in form of the Barclay’s estrangement. She’s half expecting to see Bianca coming out of her dorm room when she does finally make it back upstairs

“Lets just say I have a few words for Mrs. Barclay that I’d rather not say in front of her daughter.” Yoko reveals, rather cryptically at that.

And she remembers in that moment; ravens share the night sky with nocturnal creatures…like bats.

/

Its never been easy to control herself around Enid.

Allowing herself indulgence only created a craving; Now she knew the taste. A surgical removal; Now she felt the phantom limb. When she’s in her own bed alone it doesn’t feel right, even though she hasn’t always been this way. There was a time she resigned herself to eternal slumber of her own shriveled up ego. Now, she’s deciding just how far she can stretch the plot in her family’s cemetery.

For a wolf with such a big heart. Wednesday hadn’t known she had the space in her own.

And Enid, she enters their dorm much the same. Beaming smile and blazer already half off, the girl stuffy from sprinting up steps and hall wings.

“Hey you,” She sang. She rushes to kiss both Wednesday’s cheeks before slinging her bag across the room. She hears it land on the bed, but her vision is soon covered by the romantic assault to her person.

“Enid,” She gets out between kisses. And the hands cupping her cheeks. “I take it your test went well then?”

It takes a moment; several more against her face and then two quick presses to her lips. Enid always looked at her afterwards with a cheesy grin and eyes glinting in awe. Like she can’t believe it either.

The eternal novelty in an anomaly.

“Mm…I think so. There was a bonus question on the board when we walked in, but that was easier than some of the actual ones.” Enid recounts, her nose moving from jaw to neck. Subtle inhales that she feels tickling her skin; the Addams clan had never been known to have an inviting scent.

Yet, Enid drinks it up like she can’t imagine anything better. For a girl so sweet, it was jarring enough to make her pause. If not, then because her lips follow after to taste her skin too.

“P-Perhaps this could serve…” Wednesday bites her tongue as to not make a noise when Enid nips at her neck. “…as a lesson in studying, instead of…i-instead of…”

Her attempt at banter quickly falls prey to that of a hungry wolf. If the teeth indenting into her flesh mean anything; the way her hands are put above her head, like slinging up lamb for slaughter. Enid was the only one with the ability to make her feel like such a thing.

Fruit from the Addams family tree that wasn’t poison on the tongue, like the majority of what lay around the state. Her mother’s greenhouse—where Morticia had taken her womb bound to whisper anecdotes. Rub her swollen belly and tell her how wondrously difficult she made once easy tasks with her kicking. Like bending to cut the weeds.

The forbidden crop being dug out from the root. Enid could very well draw blood, but she leaves it to bruise instead. Rumbling giggles against her throat in the following silence as she wills no other noise to leave it.

“Hm? Were you saying something, babe?” Enid asks, teasing and sending chills through her. Her neck moist from eager lips and stinging deliciously,

Wednesday frowns, huffing at her predicament. Face hot and wading through the fog steaming up in her brain. With the body heat from above, barely veiled by the uniform shirt and skirt; directly on top of her, pressing her into the mattress.

Between Enid’s strong thighs, trying not to squeeze her own further together.

She feels…upset with herself. Her own body, in its neediness and betrayal. When she’s all that she is.

When she’s lying.

“Baby?” Enid whispers, soft and caressing her cheek. Too soft for these feathers, coarse and coated. Wednesday feels herself coming back down, as if she’d had a vision of it; the way she’d inevitably ruin this.

The way she knows she will. She’s an Addams and raven—she lives in ruin.

Destroying the moment and making Enid look down at her. Those baby blue eyes darting about her stone face in concern. Her thumbs smoothing skin on her cheeks, like uncovering a secret message buried in the sand. Wednesday ends the hunt early, grabbing her wrist and then laying a hand atop hers.

“Apologies. I’ve a lot on my mind,” She replies honestly. As honest as she can be, without saying anything at all and yet everything at once.

Enid kisses her forehead.

“Wanna talk about it? We could have a vent sesh…we’re still roomies even though we do fun stuff too now.” She lowers her tone and grins at her like she stole something. Wednesday could admit to still trying to find her breath and right mind.

“Surely, our evening tussles about your bed are more than ‘fun’,” Wednesday counters with a frown.

“Well yeah, I just didn’t wanna…you know…push too much with the intimacy talk and stuff.” Enid looks to choose her words carefully, playing with her fingers and studying her reaction like she was going to be tested. Wednesday works her jaw and tries fruitlessly to pretend like this isn’t a conversation she dreads.

That this was something like a…weakness.

“Please, I’m not fragile.” She insists, shifting away from the wolf’s touch. Enid takes it in stride, keeping her pinned but not trapped. The touch is entirely more welcome than she’d ever admit, even in her own stubborn will.

“But, you are still a person with feelings and boundaries—totally ok, by the way,” Enid reassures her. She moves bangs from her face, looking at her with so much understanding and adoration that it makes her chest hurt. Affection never found her easily. The daintiest touch against her skin burns, “Its ok if we take things slower.”

Its said with reassurance, something that Wednesday’s still trying to cope with craving from anyone. Even if it is just Enid; with the Hyde’s invitation under her bed she felt undeserving. Rather, its not something she’s ever known where to place. Her parents always praised her, but she never needed it—Wednesday knows her own aptitude like the back of her own hand.

But, when it comes to social cues, relationship maintenance or this new found thing called ‘intimacy’...she felt like an amateur. Like someone who needed to ask direction, lest the trip over their shoelaces. A skill so asinine that most of her peers had mastered it, while she favored things like human anatomy for far more morbid reason. The closest she knew another person’s body was by medical terms and textbook anecdotes. There wasn’t some academic paper or archived passages she could search on how to be a good partner to Enid Sinclair.

How to be ‘normal’.

“I’m not like other people…I never will be,” And thats something she’s always found pride in.

“And I don’t need you to be,” Enid replies. Easy going as her movements, though it’d likely take a crowbar to pry her arms from around her body. The wolf envelopes her in scent of today’s fresh bouquet, wrapped with woodsy twine. Something pretty, expressive, “I like taking my time with you. Its kinda our thing. And I…I really meant it when I told you I don’t wanna mess things up with you. Not anymore. I never wanna not be able to kiss you, or tell you I love you…”

Love.

It never got any easier to accept. So high, her raven wings had her above ground, until the wolf called her to Earth.

She thinks about the years before, the times in which she’d cradled her feelings tucked close in her black feathers. When she was merely waiting for her naive heart to finally pass. And even now, she’s fluffed up with words she can’t dare squawk out, lest she lose everything.

Enid couldn’t know. Not yet.

Wednesday places a tender kiss to the wolf’s scarred cheek. Long faded into dull lines, but symbolic of her impending departure. A seal of revenge.

She had to end this. Ease her guilt. Heal the lashes on her back, after belting herself raw with each sin of deception.

“I admit to sharing the sentiment,” She whispers. This time, its not Enid who has to initiate their kiss. Or that acts with passion to say what she couldn’t dare admit with her words, when they’re accompanied with lies.

I love you more.

I’ve loved you longer.

I won’t ever stop.

Disguised in languid kisses that included her tentative tongue. Lashing against the wolf’s own, more experienced in pillaging and dissecting her insides, ironically. Even while baring its belly, the wolf was a formidable opponent, strong hands stroking her sides and pulling her even closer. Like their bodies could crush and meld together and make something presentable.

Wednesday would never allow herself to be caged. She flies above the beast to keep her head on straight. She balances her hands on Enid’s ribs, feeling the burn in her arms and lungs; the fire that blazed in her belly and coiled like hot metal springs in her pelvis. Enid shivers below her and thrusts up into her like she needed the heat. Her sneaky hands go to her backside and squeeze.

“Enid,” Wednesday gasps, her own hips stuttering at the contact. The hands on her body tighten, the claws beginning to puncture through her skirt. A growl follows, sharp and accompanied by the slow jerky movements of their centers beginning to join through layers of clothing.

Wednesday feels her lower stomach tightening to the point that its almost uncomfortable; if not only because it craves soothing from something she finds herself painfully ignorant. Her skin being pricked and drawing blood as hands travel under her shirt and up her back. It hurts, but it feels too good to do anything but submit. These wounds caused by another’s hand—her beloved, the only one to truly lure such a cunning bird into its grasp.

An Addams without blood is like an angel without wings.

But then…Enid stops kissing her.

Their heavy breaths mingling and those mint blue eyes glowing like bulbs. Wednesday knows her face is probably just as flushed, albeit with far less color. Except Enid looked to be in great pain, her face showing physical strain as she seemed to fighting for control within herself.

“Why…Why did you stop?” Wednesday hates how needy it sounds. Really, she’s overwhelmed with how much she wants that she can’t place a name. And Enid doesn’t immediately respond, but a low, rumbling can be heard in her throat. Wednesday feels the vibration down to her core, giving a trembling exhale and an experimental grind down. Her hips are halted in place by Enid’s strength, making her frown.

Normally…Wednesday was the one to stop things. The one to get overwhelmed and pull away.

Though it vexed her to admit.

Fear of intimacy—such a trivial thing, called human nature. She’s never been scared of anything.

To want to reach out and touch. She never thought she’d ever bother. Its hard to practice for something you didn’t think existed. The warmth—the dampness that she felt chilling against her underwear—it never had a name other than nuisance. Mere biological function.

Now it had legs. Had a say—called out for Enid.

“Hey…whats gotten into you?” Enid interrupts her thoughts. She shifts them, sitting up and keeping Wednesday in her lap. She holds her sides, making their connection a tad less lewd, likely for both of their sake. Her head feels less cloudy, but she feels no less shameful.

Insecure. Another useless emotion she didn’t bother to study. Nor did she know what to do with the excess that burned her cheeks.

“Nothing–why’d you stop?” Wednesday has to clear her throat. Its husky with arousal she can’t shake with Enid still holding her. Even worse, with the following action of the blonde stroking her cheeks with her thumbs again. Then, placing an even softer kiss to her lips, like a peck.

A bird like herself can do little more than accept.

“Ah—I was having…issues with, uh…” Enid trails, sheepish and smiling shyly. She chews her lip and has trouble meeting her eyes. “I’m still half human, you know? And its already hard enough when my wolf just wants to…”

Enid coughs, awkward and lightly rubbing her back; this time over her shirt. And Wednesday doesn’t understand, staring blankly back at the wolf up until she’s clearing her throat again.

“Why don’t we, uh…have you had dinner?” The blonde tentatively suggests. An out; somewhere with prying eyes. Wednesday frowns, feeling the arms around her loosen. 

“Dinner…?”

She trails as Enid slides herself off the bed and starts adjusting herself. Wednesday sits up, merely watching and trying not to sound like she's something silly and absolutely juvenile like disappointed. 

“Yeah, you know…that third meal you have everyday to have a balanced diet? And-and all that jazz…” Enid's very interested in her own reflection as she rambles on. She notes that it makes the lack of eye contact a bit more justified.

“You wish to cease our current activities,” Wednesday wished she could disguise it a bit more. That...tone she got around Enid sometimes. More and more often since their courting had commenced. It implied something unimaginable to her; the concept of need outside of the basics or pure obsession. 

She does a poor job at pretending that Enid leaving didn't mean anything. Granted, she always had.

Even worse when the werewolf girl starts looking at her like that. Like she feels bad and Wednesday was the kind of person that needed reassurance. Like she needed the cushion of those lips on her forehead, like trying to kiss her incredibly ill brain better.

“Of course not! I love kissing you way more than I need steak,” Enid jokes. She lets a thumb run across Wednesday's cheek, smoothing the creases of her frown. She speaks so soft, “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to push yourself to do things you aren’t ready for.”

Like Wednesday was someone she needed to handle delicately. Like she wasn't an omen of her very demise. 

“I have free will and more than half a brain,” Wednesday says harsher than she should. Enid takes no offense, reading between her lines. Like crossing the strip of duct tape.

“You’re the smartest girl I know…” Enid smiles. Talks to her like she dazed, like she's the one who's lucky. “I’m just trying to do this one thing right.”

Whats right?

If Wednesday truly cared about things like that...she wouldn't be here at all. 

“What if…” Wednesday dares to move. Dares to (confidently as she can, faking it when she can't), place hands on Enid's own. Leads them down lower; to the same depths that she believed herself worthy. In the same breath, the fingers trailing down her chest feel so good, she's not sure she deserves this either. “What if I want you to be selfish?”

To take. To return the favor.

Enid's palms flat against her breasts, the wolf looks to take the bait. Her thumb flicking a nipple over her stark white shirt; the small gasp that she's soon forced to claim. It snaps Enid out of whatever trance, a squawk from her raven's beak startling the prowling beast. Her hands fall to her lap, smoothing against her thighs. Not suggestive...reassuring.

“Wednesday—”

“I’m a raven…in title alone. I’m not some delicate bird,” Wednesday hates how she sounds. Like she's offended...like she has the gall to be. Hates that Enid saw her through different eyes--ones that could see her without the mirror. Undeniably. It makes her insides burn for different reasons. Petulantly, face burning because Enid only looks like she's sorry. “I can take whatever you have to give.”

She deserved it. Deserved to face the maw of the beast. Either of them--Tyler felt like an inevitability now. Enid still had the choice. And Wednesday was extremely biased about it. And it grows stronger when the wolf tends to her feathers, claws sheathed and soft paws against her skin. Eyes that didn't see her as prey, but pack.

“Not tonight…I’m sorry,” Enid apologizes softly. Regretfully--although she's not sure who's lament outweighed. She just knew hers felt too heavy at the moment. Her body weighed down with the pressure, crushing her skull and pressing liquid out of her eyelids. Blood or tears...she didn't want to know, let alone anyone else. “Wednesday? Where are you…?”

She moves on auto pilot. Standing now and shrugging her blazer back on. 

“I thought you were hungry?” Wednesday repeats the earlier proposition. “I’m merely preparing to go down for another mediocre, Nevermore branded dinner.”

She goes to slip on her shoes next. All the while Enid had made no attempt to move from the bed. She leaned against it, watching her carefully. Wednesday can't face her to really know; the feeling of those eyes on her back was simply undeniable.

“Are you like…" Enid starts, too loud before stopping. Wednesday turns to face her, seeing the way she's cringing. Looking at Wednesday like she was a ticking bomb. "...upset with me?”

She's dropped her mask one too many times in here. The cracks were becoming obvious to more people than just her. Because its harder and harder nowadays not to see where the scars once were on Enid's. Or, where new ones could bloom if she doesn't act quickly. Instead of indulging. 

A raven desperate for something shiny to place in the nest.

“Why would I be?” Wednesday steels herself. And again, she hates this. Despises nearly everyday, but none more than this moment. Forced to lie to protect not only Enid, but herself. “I’d prefer more time to gather my thoughts.”

They don't link hands on the way down. But, they can't help but bump shoulders. Like their paths just can't help but cross. 

*