"I would like your assistance if possible."
The words spoken by Woe had been clear, direct and precise. They needed to prepare gear and weapons for the next phase of the journey and she had requested Wednesday's assistance in doing so. Nothing more.
Of course, Wednesday Addams had immediately read between the lines the second implicit request.
I need to talk to you, in private.
That was why she found herself following closely on the heels of her younger counterpart, the first of her multiversal variants she had met and possibly the closest to herself in temperament and character. That her facial features remained strangely reminiscent of those of Laurel Gates/Marilyn Thornhill was a peculiar oddity that Wednesday at the time decided not to give too much thought to. Perhaps the universe had its own twisted sense of humor and irony.
Walking through the halls of an Addams Mansion from another universe was proving to be quite an experience. She recognized one familiar corner after another, but at the same time the layout of the hallways, rooms and décor was different. There was simultaneously an air of comfortable familiarity and disconcerting strangeness about the place. If the concept of Uncanny Valley could be applied to one physical place, it was that house.
Finally they came to an armory, decorated with old suits of armor, shields and swords of all kinds and types. Warhammers, halberds, spears, knives, bows and crossbows filled the shelves, displays and crates of the place. The collection was nothing short of what Wednesday and her family had back in their home universe.
Woe immediately gravitated toward a shelf decorated by crossbows of various sizes.
"I never apologized to you," she said, as she picked up one of the crossbows and weighed it in her hands, "I ran like a coward before I did."
"If you're talking about what I think you're talking about, I distinctly remember you apologizing for your boldness before the act," Wednesday said.
"Yet I practically proposed to your paramour. It wasn't polite of me," insisted Woe.
"Water under the bridge, Woe. Like I told Enid, I can't blame a version of myself for coming to the same conclusions I did," Wednesday said, before raising an eyebrow questioningly, "And it looks like on your side of things you've been fortunate after all."
Woe smiled, thinking of Saint-Clair. Not her typical smirk of satisfaction or sadism, but a gentle, kind smile. So out of place in the girl's range of limited expressions that it could only cause strangeness in anyone who glimpsed it. Wednesday could not help but feel a certain awe at the image, fully aware that her face adopted similar mannerisms in everything about her Enid. She wondered if others would view her own smile with the same puzzled surprise.
What she didn't know was that in practice the only difference was the absence or presence of dimples.
"Yes, though it has not been a road without its stumbles, many the result of my own stubbornness," Woe began to explain, "One of the first things I did after returning home from our first multiversal happening was to ask my parents about Nevermore Academy. I had vague hopes that it existed in this reality and fortunately that was the case, albeit already with some marked differences. For starters, it is not a school exclusively for outcasts, although it is one of the few that accepts non-human students, and it is also an all-girls school. In retrospect those should have been the first signs that my expectations were going to run headlong into reality."
"Mmm," Wednesday mused, listening intently while examining the blade of a particularly sharp saber, "I think I'm beginning to discern what those stumbles might have been. Few things are more poisonous than unrealistic expectations."
"I convinced Father and Mother to be transferred to Nevermore, even halfway through the term. On the very first day I met her, and all my aspirations froze leaving me unable to act in propriety," said Woe, lamenting, "The pedestal that had formed in my mind was occupied by a dual being of affability and kindness marked by a magnificent bestiality. A blue-eyed, golden-haired angel capable of becoming a monster. In her place I found a blue-eyed, brown-haired, abrasive, unhinged lunatic. Disillusioned, I decided to keep my distance."
Woe laughed, a dry, humorless laugh, "Of course, she had other plans. I don't know if it's that she smelled my disillusioned disinterest and that intrigued her, or maybe more likely, that she just saw a new, lonely face that could use some company. She turned befriending me into her own crusade."
"Sounds like she herself is as dual as my Enid," observed Wednesday.
Woe nodded, "Indeed. It didn't take long for me to see it. Despite the pronounced differences, at the end of the day her true nature was still there hidden beneath the vitriol and the most foul-mouthed tongue I've ever known. And soon I noticed the same traits that had shone in your she-wolf. Courage, loyalty, kindness. I realized that it was selfish of me to project onto her the ghost of someone else, that I shouldn't force her onto an unrealistic pedestal. And that led me to my second mistake, my absolute resolve to cut off all contact with her including our nascent friendship because I considered myself unworthy of her regard."
Wednesday said nothing, continuing to listen in silence. She herself knew all too well the bitterness of that particular sentiment. But if despite their differences Saint-Clair was like her Enid in what really mattered...
"She didn't let you, did she?"
Woe shook her head in denial, "I didn't stand a chance. Barely an hour after I made my decision to reduce my contact with her in order to completely cut it off later, she cornered me alone in an empty classroom. She immediately sensed that something was wrong and would not let me retreat into myself, displaying a determination and stubbornness that I found increasingly attractive. And there, desperate and in a tangle of confused feelings, I undertook something that in retrospect was as brave as it was stupid."
Woe put down the crossbow she had been fiddling with and looked directly at Wednesday, "I told her everything."
Wednesday's eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised, "Risky. There was a high probability that she believed you to be a liar or insane."
"I know. But she just listened as I told her about it all," continued Woe, "How I had traveled to another reality, how I met you and the other variants, how I met a version of her that forced me to examine myself and open myself to possibilities I would never have considered until then… How it had been selfish and cruel of me to expect her to be an exact replica of someone else and that therefore she would be better off forgetting me as I was no longer worthy of her love, not even of her friendship."
Again the gentle smile from before lit up the darkness of the young Addams’ face.
"When I finished, she laughed," she said, "A laugh that turned to roars as at that moment she transformed right in front of me and I was suddenly faced with the most terrifying and wondrous sight ever witnessed by my eyes. She was much more than just a werecat or outcast. To me she was like a goddess, the predator who in the green shadows of the jungle taught the ancestors of mankind to fear the dark. She rested her paws on my shoulders and reverted to her human form, sitting half naked in my lap with scraps of cloth from her tattered uniform and an indecipherable gleam in her eyes. She asked me: Am I monstrous enough for you? And before I could give her an answer, she kissed me."
"Sounds like she has her ideas clearer than either of us...I've found myself in similar situations with my Enid where she's like a spotlight of lucidity capable of dispelling all my doubts or more twisted thoughts."
"Exactly. Even today I still wonder grateful that she gave me a chance. Her life has not been easy and from what she has told me my never showing her fear and finally being honest was the deciding factor," Woe continued, "That first kiss was followed by many others at that time...which led to a small scandal when a teacher walked into the classroom and caught us in the act. Her guardians and my parents were called. Her guardians...I won't deign to devote breath to talk about those wretches, but my parents were delighted with the news."
"I have no trouble at all imagining it," Wednesday admitted, almost uncharacteristically grumbling. She still remembered with some mortification the effusiveness of Gomez and Morticia when she announced her courtship of Enid to them on the she-wolf's first visit to their home.
They immediately went to get the family albums and showed pictures of her as a baby, the fiends.
A brief but comfortable silence fell between the two, finally interrupted by a cough from Woe, "I apologize for unloading all this on you," she said, "But I felt it necessary for you to know...it repulses me to admit it, but I must say that I see you as a sort of fraternal figure to whom to confide my tribulations."
"And I would consider it an honor," Wednesday replied, and was not as surprised as she would have been in the past to realize that she meant it with complete sincerity. Finally, with a tiny curl of her lips indicating a faint smile, she gestured to the rest of the armory, "What do you say we finish deciding what equipment to take to outfit ourselves?"
Woe opened her mouth to respond, but couldn't. She was interrupted by a loud sound from outside the mansion. A savage feline roar matched by a primal wolfish howl.
The two Wednesdays looked at each other, frowning and sharing at that very moment the same exact thought.
What are our beloved halfwits doing?
§§§
What is my life?, wondered Enid Sinclair.
Well, at that moment her life was to find herself on the shoulders of a humanoid saber-toothed tiger as large as her lycanthropic form, being dragged outside Addams Manor, into the front yard of the building and finally being flung through the air to land on the ground in front of the beast's feet, at about the same time Pup, Taylor, Dora and Theo were leaving the Mansion to observe the scene.
Enid immediately sprang to her feet, partially transformed without being fully aware of it.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" she exclaimed, pointing indignantly at Saint-Clair.
The werecat stood before her, transformed and visibly vibrating from anticipation, emitting a sound similar to a pleading mewl. Enid could finally see her clearly.
The transformed Saint-Clair was tall, perhaps slightly taller than Enid's full transformed form, though less corpulent in appearance. Her body, covered in brown tabby fur, was not unlike that of a werewolf in fact. Humanoid, with arms somewhat longer than the legs, slightly hunched which suggested the possibility of moving on all fours, and being basically a mass of muscles covered by fur. The main differences were in her hands, or rather paws, disproportionately large and thick-fingered, hiding retractable claws that were not constantly extended like those of a lycanthrope. She also had a long, thin tail.
The major distinguishing factor was, of course, the head. A feline head with a small mane, intermediate in appearance between that of a modern tiger or lion but clearly differentiated from them, with flat ears, bright emerald eyes and a sharp-toothed mouth with a pair of prominent giant fangs that dwarfed Enid's in comparison.
All together it made for a rather intimidating creature.
Enid was not impressed.
"I told you I'm not going to fight you!" she exclaimed, "We can't go around wasting time on last-minute whims!"
Saint-Clair merely looked at her, expressionless. Without taking her gaze from Enid, she rested one of her paws on the lycanthrope's shoulder and shoved her. It was a gentle push, but given the creature's supernatural strength it knocked the she-wolf back down.
Enid rose again, her eyes glowing golden, "What do you think you...?!"
She couldn't finish, because Saint-Clair repeated the exact same process, and once again Enid Sinclair fell to the ground to immediately stand up as if propelled by a furious spring, opening her mouth to undoubtedly launch a list of insults that would have rarely left her lips in most circunstances.
And on this occasion she was unable to do so because Saint-Clair covered her head with one of her paws, effectively silencing her.
Enid stood still after futilely trying to speak and only uttering indecipherable mumbles, dropping her arms in resignation. After a few moments that seemed eternal, Saint-Clair withdrew her paw, leaving Enid's face uncovered again. The lycanthrope's eyes were closed, and she breathed deeply, as if trying to calm herself.
Finally she pinned her gaze back on the werecat, "You're trying to provoke me, aren't you?"
Saint-Clair snorted and made a series of sounds, almost like chirps. It took Enid a few seconds to realize it was a sort of giggle.
"Okay," she said, her eyes glowing golden and her lips being cut by her growing fangs, "Then don't even think of regretting it."
And in a matter of seconds, a fully transformed Enid Sinclair appeared in front of Saint-Clair, shredded remnants of clothing exploding from her body and flying through the air. The werecat roared, a wild and joyous sound. The werewolf responded with a howl of such intensity that it rattled the glass of the windows.
"Ah, here we go!" exclaimed Pup watching the scene with the same delight as she would watch her scorpions devouring a frog.
"Shit, I don't know who to bet on," Dora growled, "They're both Enid, if it was either of them two against Taylor I'd have an easier time deciding."
"Gee, thanks," Taylor replied, shooting a sidelong glance at the young werewolf.
Dora merely shrugged, "It's nothing personal Tay-tay, it's a home team support thing."
"Tay-tay?" the Hyde muttered. Theo patted her on the shoulder, "She gave you a nickname, that's her liking you."
"Oooh! Look, look!" exclaimed Pup again, drawing the group's attention to the fighters.
Saint-Clair initiated the fray, leaping toward Enid with her claws extended.
The lycanthrope responded quickly and boldly. Instead of trying to dodge the blow by moving to the side, Enid lunged forward as she ducked, so that the werecat's claws skimmed over her head. The werewolf then charged straight at Saint-Clair's torso, making a tackle that threw them both to the ground in a rolling ball of fur and claws.
Enid managed to recall and bring back a move from her first fight with Tyler years before, and at one point managed to plant her feet on Saint-Clair, pushing the werecat with the strength of her legs and flinging her through the air against the outer fence of the mansion. Unfortunately, in doing so Enid ignored her opponent's grip and as Saint-Clair was thrown, her claws left deep bloody gashes in the werewolf's back and shoulders.
Saint-Clair recovered quickly from her throw and ran at Enid again, though this time the lycanthrope did step aside. Saint-Clair spun on herself, extending her tail, which hit the werewolf in the face. Finishing her spin, Saint-Clair took advantage of the brief distraction to lunge with her open mouth straight for Enid's neck.
The lycanthrope showed off her reflexes and shielded herself with her arm. With Saint-Clair biting her left forearm, Enid proceeded to repeatedly strike her with the claws of her right hand on the head, shoulders and torso until the cat finally released her prey.
The wounds closed as fast as they opened, blood splattering everywhere, staining the pelts of both with a scarlet color.
Roaring, Saint-Clair swiped at Enid with her paw, making no use of her claws. For all intents and purposes, she delivered a slap to the she-wolf's face, but with such force that it sent Enid flying through the air until she crashed into one of the dying trees that adorned the outdoor courtyard near Morticia's greenhouse.
During the moments she was airborne, Enid realized with absurd lucidity that she was enjoying herself.
The initial irritability and impatience had given way to a euphoric joy, similar to that experienced when participating in some game or sport that she liked. And the fact that she could feel through her sense of smell (pheromones never lie) that her counterpart was experiencing a familiar sensation only intensified it.
Even the pain was pleasant. The sensation of claws cutting into her flesh and teeth piercing her brought with it a persistent stinging that was strangely pleasant.
And the metallic smell of blood, both her own and Saint-Clair's? Intoxicating.
Certainly, spilling blood was far more satisfying on a primal level than having to deal with the smelly, slimy goo of the Shadow Hydes.
Enid rose after her fall, howling cheerfully as she lunged again at Saint-Clair. The werecat responded with a cavernous roar and her own assault. The two collided in midair, in an embrace with claws digging into their opponent's backs and jaws closing around their shoulders in an exchange of toothy bites. They fell back to the ground tangling with each other, until Enid managed at one point to grab Saint-Clair's tail and with a jerk, lift the cat into the air and begin to slam her repeatedly to the ground as if she were a makeshift morning star.
In one of her impacts against the ground, Saint-Clair gripped the surface tightly using her claws and gave a forward pull that knocked Enid off balance.
Turning, the saber-toothed werecat launched a series of vicious concatenated swipes at Enid's lupine face that momentarily stunned the werewolf and dyed the golden fur on her face a vivid red. But the advantage only lasted an instant. Enid managed to focus enough to parry one of Saint-Clair's blows, grabbing her opponent's arm tightly and squeezing hard. Saint-Clair tried to strike with her other free limb, but Enid grabbed it as well, opening Saint-Clair's arms before lunging forward and delivering a hard headbutt as she let go.
The lycanthrope then took advantage of the cat's distraction as she brought her hands to her muzzle, to deliver a series of very fast blows with her claws to Saint-Clair's belly as if she were stabbing her in a frenzy. If instead of carrying out these rapid stabs Enid had left her claws sunk into Saint-Clair's belly and moved her hand to her side, she would have disemboweled the werecat right there and then.
But she didn't, too messy.
It would also pose the risk of Saint-Clair using her own intestines as a weapon to try to strangle her, as far-fetched as that might sound. The Enid of two years ago would not have been able to hold back the contents of her stomach at that thought. The lycanthrope's musings vanished as quickly as they came when Saint-Clair finally lunged at her again, sinking her gigantic teeth into one of the werewolf’s legs.
And the combat continued, both carrying on their brutal impromptu dance as the rest of those present watched.
"Wow, they're really going all out," Dora commented as Theo nodded along with her.
"It's a good thing that in those forms the wounds heal so fast," Pup said, "Although they're both going to come out of this with some fresh scars, I envy them."
Taylor merely nodded, holding back a groan.
"Tay?" the Addams asked, noticing her friend's discomfort.
"Sorry, too much blood scent in the air," Taylor replied, her brow pearly with sweat, "It's giving me ideas."
Before Pup could ask what kind of ideas, a cold, steely voice echoed from behind the group.
"What the hell is going on here?"
They turned around startled, finding Wednesday and Woe, armed respectively with a sword and crossbow, surveying the scene with a mask of expressionlessness but a curious gleam in their eyes that fooled no one.
"Oh... well, Saint-Clair challenged Enid to a duel when she learned that she can transform at any time," Dora began to explain.
"And while she was a bit reluctant at first, she seems to be having a great time now," Theo finished.
Wednesday and Woe looked out at the courtyard, focusing their attention on the combatants, and almost gasped.
Both transformed, the image of Enid and Saint-Clair exchanging blows, claws and bites, bathed in their own blood, was a hypnotic spectacle that caused a visible dilation in the pupils of the two Addamses, especially when they ascertained from their body languages that despite the brutality of the combat, the two fighters were enjoying themselves. But beyond the blood and the lacerations, the mere sight of those two bodies, of their steely musculatures moving under that luscious fur...
Wednesday gulped. Woe made an almost inaudible sound. The two Addamses exchanged a sidelong glance, trying to ignore each other's slight blush on their respective cheeks as they once again shared the exact same simultaneous thought.
My girlfriend is hotter than yours.
NOTES:
Wednesday and Woe, monsterfuckers.
This chapter is technically two in one. The talk between Wednesday and Woe went on longer than I thought it would, but I also didn't want to put off the fight for another chapter. I hope you liked it ^^
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