“By you, I am forever undone.”
― Holly Black.
Control yourself, Wednesday Addams.
That was her new mantra in the last few seconds since the door to her room burst open, thanks to a hard kick delivered by the person right in front of her at that moment. A vision of indescribable beauty covered in spiders. But that in itself was not the real problem nor the cause of multiple internal glands in her body going into an incandescent hormonal frenzy. No, it had been hearing just a few words in that perfidious language, specifically coming from the pink lips of that beast, that had doomed her.
Wednesday knew the phenomenon well. She had observed it regularly since her earliest childhood. It manifested itself in her father whenever her mother used French. A comment, a single word, a saying. Sometimes a simple “Oui” was enough to make the few embers of Gomez Addams' rationality completely disintegrate, leaving in their place a buffoon obsessed by the object of his love.
And now it was happening to her.
With Greek.
How insufferably arbitrary. Why couldn't it have been ancient Latin? It's a dead language after all. And she liked dead things.
But no, she got Greek. And would the fates have it that Enid Saint-Clair was the catalyst for it all. Was it a language thing? Or was it because it was her specifically? That paradoxical beast that was making Wednesday rethink things one minute after another. The blue-eyed beast with brown hair that some alarmed black widows were nervously scurrying around who seemed to be talking to her with a questioning expression on her face.
Oh, she's talking to me.
“…llo? Hello? Addams?”
Wednesday blinked. She noticed that every muscle in her body was tense, the result of a conscious effort not to move an inch or allow herself to be dominated by the ancestral instincts of her family that urged her, screaming to the depths of her soul, to pounce on the beast in front of her and worship her body in a sinfully carnal way that...
Enough!
Wednesday closed her eyes. She took a breath. A deep one. She noticed her body relaxing and the burning sensation on her face minimizing. The pressure and tingling sensation in her chest was lessened and she noticed all her vitals returning to normal. Well, to whatever normalcy was for her.
“My... apologies,” she said, ”I find myself a little indisposed.”
“Your face turned as red as a baboon's ass,” Saint-Clair said, her tone perfectly factual. There was nothing sarcastic or pretendedly humorous in her voice. It was a sincere observation despite the poor comparative choice, “Did you have like a trance or something?” the feline asked. Sudden alarm crossed her face, “Is it the spiders? I was under the impression that you liked them, but if I've been wrong..."
Wednesday held up her hand, asking for silence, “I...I like spiders. I have a singular appreciation for them and other arachnids,” she said, and reached her raised hand delicately and deliberately toward Saint-Clair's hair. Enid suddenly went very still, her blue eyes gleaming emerald for a second as Wednesday Addams' cold, pale hand brushed aside some of the hair that fell across her forehead, almost caressing it, and she gathered one of the black widows between her fingers with utmost gentleness.
“Latrodectus mactans. It's rare to find this variety so far north,” Wednesday said, as she brought the spider close to her face and looked at it intently. The little animal stood completely still, as if suddenly aware of being in the presence of a larger, way more dangerous predator. For a second it almost seemed to bow in a sign of deference and submission.
“Yeah... well...”, Enid mumbled with a slight blush on her face, trying to ignore the sensation of that cold, soft skin touching her hair. She didn't notice the rest of the spiders descending down her shoulders and arms until they launched themselves onto the floor, “Your roommate said you liked them, she thinks you were setting up a menagerie of these things and I thought they'd be a nice gesture to welcome you to Nevermore… maybe?”
The spiders next to Enid, almost as if responding to a silent call, moved across the floor to Wednesday’s side of the room. It was almost as if they knew, as if they understood that this was their place now.
“Hillard is observant. I was trying to gather some of the spiders from the room, but the brown recluses are very elusive. I think it will be more satisfying to deal with the widows,” Wednesday said, as the spider on her finger descended using its web, then ascended and descended again, like an eight-legged yo-yo.
Enid let out a giggle at the sight of it, “Aw, that's cute.”
“They can be... playful. If they know what's good for them,” Wednesday replied, trying to ignore the alarm that flooded through her when the use of the word ‘cute’ to refer to something partially related to her didn't make her nauseous.
The arachnid dropped to the ground from her hand and followed the path of its fellow spiders.
“Ah, σκατά!” exclaimed Enid suddenly, ”Where are my manners? I just realized that I haven't even formally introduced myself! Enid Saint-Clair,” she said, holding out her right hand.
Wednesday clasped her hand almost by reflex, trying to repress the impulse after hearing the word in Greek to start kissing it compulsively and moving her lips up that perfectly shaped arm until they reached that delicious throat, that perfectly sculpted jaw and those luscious lips.
Control yourself, Wednesday Addams.
“I know who you are,” she managed to mutter, her voice almost cracking.
“Ah, I guess my local reputation has reached your ears by now.”
“I have heard various rumors. Most are obviously hogwash born of prejudice, jealousy, and irrational hatred befitting a mentally flawed mass of adolescent humanity. Yet there are others in which there seems to be a glimmer of truth and I am impelled to ask if...”
“Sigh, I know what you're going to ask. It's what everyone asks, and the answer is no. I haven't eaten anyone.”
“Oh,” Wednesday muttered, concealing her disappointment. Despite this, Enid noticed it and couldn't help but feel a pleasant sensation at someone expressing displeasure at the opposite of the norm. She decided that maybe she could score points if...
“But I definitely maimed a son of a bitch!” she exclaimed, with a smile in which her fangs stood out.
“Oh, is that so?” asked Wednesday, subtly interested.
“Yep. He had it totally coming, that's for sure.”
“I'm absolutely certain of it,” said Wednesday, “But I still think you should have devoured him. Then maybe the masses that congregate in this place would seriously consider whether it's worth slandering you at the risk of being the next entrée on your menu.”
Enid laughed, and her laughter lit the fires inside Wednesday up again. Her pupils dilated and a hint of a moan formed in her throat that she could barely contain.
Circles of hell, she laughed just like her.
Wednesday shook her head for a few moments, trying to push the figure of Enid Sinclair out of her thoughts and stay in the here and now, in the present, in Enid Saint-Clair.
Who seemed to be looking at her in amusement, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.
“What's the matter?” asked the Addams.
“Not that I'm complaining,” said Enid, with a slight blush on her cheeks, ”But, could you give me my hand back?”
For a second Wednesday didn't understand what the young woman in front of her was referring to. But then she noticed the still present warmth in her right hand and looking down she could see that she was still clasping Enid Saint-Clair's hand. She had not let go of it for an instant. Now, realizing this, she pulled it away as if the other hand were a red-hot ember.
“My...my apologies,” she said, trying to ignore an unpleasant sense of embarrassment, “I'm Wednesday Addams,” she declared, finishing off the formal introduction.
“I know that too,” Enid said, with a half-smile, ”Wednesday Addams.”
Suddenly, Enid Saint-Clair adopted a pensive expression. She folded her arms, holding a hand to her chin and gazing at an indeterminate point overhead.
“Wednesday... We-ee-dns-daay... Weds... Wens... Mmmm...”
Wednesday watched her, genuinely perplexed. Saint-Clair kept repeating her name aloud, in different cadences and tones, arbitrarily fragmenting it.
“What... are you doing?”
Enid gave a slight gasp, as if she had been fully absorbed in the most recondite part of her own mind even though only a few seconds had passed. She turned her gaze back to Wednesday and smiled. A mischievous, catlike smile.
“Oh! I'm trying to think of a nickname for you. Let's see... Wednesday Addams... Ddams... Weddans? Nah. Wednes... or better Weds... Day? S-Day? Wenny?”
Wednesday couldn't help but frown in disbelief.
This is ridiculous, she thought, and yet I don't perceive in myself the slightest will to stop it. She could assign me the most ridiculous, grotesque or humiliatingly adorable nickname in existence and I know I would accept it without qualms. Only if it comes from her. Only from her.
“Aha! Got it!”
Gods of Darkness, give me strength.
“Willa!” exclaimed Enid.
What?
"...what," muttered Wednesday, incredulously.
“It's perfect!”, exclaimed the feline, “It’s short and it has a nice ring to it."
“But other than the initial it's nothing like...”
“Hush, Willa. Don't spoil the moment,” Enid said, resting her index finger on Wednesday's lips. The two stood like that for a moment, staring at each other, feeling like a small electric charge jumped from one to the other.
Finally, Enid pulled her finger away and cleared her throat a little, bringing her hand to the back of her neck and beginning to rub it nervously, “I mean... if you want to... if you don't like it then...”
"I adore it," interrupted Wednesday.
Enid froze, “You...you do?”
“Yes. I can't figure out why. It doesn't make any sense at all and yet, coming from you I can accept it with no problem.”
“Wow, that's... Wow.”
A strangely comforting silence fell over the two of them. There were no more words for a few moments, nor any movement until Wednesday suddenly cleared her throat, becoming acutely aware of the change in the atmosphere of the room. She took a step back and turned slightly, crossing her arms to maintain her firm posture and control the pleasant shivers that had begun to run through her.
“Ah... well... I guess... thanks for coming. And for the spiders,” she said, cursing her own awkwardness. She had rarely found it so complicated to make use of her words.
Enid Saint-Clair nodded, silently, and started to turn to leave the room when suddenly her brow furrowed, as if something surfaced abruptly in her memory. The young feline turned again, focusing her full attention on Wednesday.
“The truth, Willa...is that I hadn't come just for the spiders. That was more of a way to break the ice between the two of us."
“Oh?”
Enid took a step forward. Wednesday restrained the urge to take another one back.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Enid said. She continued walking, and instinctively and almost without realizing she began to walk in circles around Wednesday, getting closer and closer with each slow step she took, “Although I'm not quite sure how to do it without sounding extremely awkward and maybe even a little stalkerish.”
“What is it?” asked Wednesday. Her gaze watched each and every one of Enid's movements in fascination. The feline elegance in her steps, the restrained power of a great hunter in her body.
She's hunting me and I don't think even she realizes it. Not consciously.
“You see, I've noticed,” Enid said.
“What have you noticed?” asked Wednesday, almost whispering the question.
Enid stopped. Suddenly she was right in front of her, incredibly close. Her body was leaning forward and her face was mere inches from Wednesday's. Her blue eyes glowed with a faint green glow as she smiled. A catlike smile again, satisfied.
“That since you've come to Nevermore you look at me all the time, though you pretend to hide it.”
Wednesday inhaled. She swallowed saliva to try to moisten a suddenly dry throat.
“Maybe I do,” she admitted, quietly, surprised at her own vulnerability. That emerald glowing stare completely disarmed her.
Enid stared at her, for a few moments. She blinked once, with deliberate slowness, before speaking again, “And why do you do that?” she asked, softly.
Because I met another you. Because you are a distorted reflection of her. Because where she was kindness, color and light in you I see something unhinged, dark and violent. And yet she was also a magnificent beast and I think you could be too. And because I have the feeling that beneath all the storm that engulfs you I can still find traces of the essence of the Enid Sinclair I knew. That's why I look at you constantly, because I'm still trying to determine where one ends and the other begins.
But of course she didn't say any of that out loud.
“My reasons... I can't tell you...”
Something indecipherable crossed Enid Saint-Clair's gaze after hearing those words, her face taking on a serious expression. What it was, Wednesday could not elucidate. She cursed herself for her weakness, absolutely certain that at that moment the other young woman would want to cut off all contact.
But that's what I intended, isn't it? To keep my distance.
So where was that bitter aftertaste coming from? Wasn't that going according to plan?
And then, Enid smiled again, “Ok! I don't want to butt in where I'm not wanted either!”
“Huh?”
“I guess we can talk about other things. You see, it looks to me like you could use a little socializing. And if there's anyone fucking sociable in this madhouse of an Academy it's me. We've got the afternoon off tomorrow, what do you say we go down to Jericho and see the sights?"
“I...”
“Agh, wait! I'm vetoed from going into town until next week... Oh! Then we'll meet near the lake. There are some ruins nearby, I'm sure you'll like them, they're very much your style. Gothic, dark and moist. A bit like you.”
“I suppose I could...”
“Ωραία! I'll see you tomorrow - how's three-thirty by the east gate of the courtyard sound? Yes? Perfect!”
And without another word, winking and throwing a sharp-toothed smile, Enid Saint-Clair turned and walked out of the room with firm, brisk steps, leaving behind a thoroughly confused, stunned, perplexed and stupefied Wednesday Addams, as well as again resisting the urge to react to yet another word uttered in the nefarious language of the Helad.
Did she... did she ask me out on a date?
…
What a revolting development this is.
She smiled.
She was still smiling hours later, when Hillary Hillard returned to the room and nearly fainted in terror at the sight of the curvature of Wednesday's lips.
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