Chapter Text
Returning to the present, he tilts his neck back to a right angle. That was a miserable, irritating and completely confusing experience. She was supposed to be a raven, a damn raven. She must see misfortune and hardship to come, and she did not consider that traumatizing a son with lewd displays of affection could be attributed to the need to show that vision of her. But putting on her shoes, which she has well worn for many years with her parents, she could attribute to that. And not a warning that she would be missing out if she murdered Enid Sinclair here and now.
A delicious silence has settled comfortably. Enid's eyes still have those wild shapes, but her aggressiveness has waned, tinged with concern and begging for a question about what has happened. Even so, her face shines, and her train of thought derails like a train off a cliff.
Enid was like glitter, she's undeniably colourful, she sparkles with just an ounce of sun, she invades any area instantly, and she's unique in that you can never easily get rid of her.
—Was it a vision? Don't tell me she saw my death!
Her impulses whisper from her: that she will annihilate Enid. Every tenth of a second it spreads further through her brain like an incurable disease.
Unless she kills off her roomie.
She still remembers the knife, even though she has other weapons on her or in the room that she could use. Like the silver dagger she keeps on her desk, it's the most efficient way to dispatch a werewolf, or a fraction of one. She can't think clearly, she can't choose a way. It's just that there are so many ways to proceed, one more elegant than the other, or make a mess all over the room with red blood and finally make a nicer decoration or in such a way that they couldn't blame her. But she chooses one that she regrets even giving the charge.
One that is her father's favorite.
He makes the effort to stretch her feet and neck more than he can, seeking to snatch those last centimeters that separate Enid from her from the void. Her lips touch. It's just as fast as a lightning strike. He feels that the electricity is going to burn all of her nervous system. That she goes down her spine and settles exquisitely in her stomach. And she expects the odds of her recurring to be exponentially high compared to his downfall. Because the closest she's ever experienced to this jolt to her soul is with Uncle Fester's electric chair at full voltage.
When she pulls away from her, she again feels the murderous urge. He yells at her to hit again, but this time she is more greedy and she must admit that this part of her that she has just discovered scares her, it was one thing to have been a voyeur with her future and another to live it under her own meat of her How the Addams curse is succumbing to her. She with that she pulls away from her, with the last ounce of sanity and control she has left of her, because she no longer knows what she is capable of doing on her own with the distance of a shared breath. She puts her hand on Sinclair's chest to steady herself again and push her away, desperately and violently needing her personal space cleared of her.
She concludes that it is a mistake, that she will be paying for it in the future, for not having chosen the silver dagger and embedding it in the left part of the wolf's ribcage. Probably a remorse that accompanies her until her body expires. Because she has just discovered her partner on this sharp side, who has been magnificent and already has deep respect for her. She doesn't want to let time get the better of her, then wake up one morning to find that she enjoys Sinclair's softer, brighter side too. One clue to it is how her heart hammers out of her, in an insufferable attempt to break out of the cage of her chest and run to her rightful owner.
Pathetic, sixteen years running from this. She refused to be like her mother, fleeing from that miserable fate. To turn out to be the reverend daughter of her father.
He shook his head and looked back at his future wife. She tasted not only the word, but also the residue of the lipstick that remained contaminated on her lips. The flavor that she danced on her palate was stormy, but above all addictive.
He could witness how Enid's golden head exploded. She could almost hear the gears of her brain working at an abnormal speed, or probably the speed she used to adequately process the gossip in the halls of Nevermore. The shapes of the eyebrows contracted, she was almost distracted by that trifle. There were times when she seemed like she wanted to speak, but no words came out. There was only a vague hesitation and a parted pair of lips. Wendnesday had to focus her gaze past Enid's shoulder, or she would definitely be committing murder, again. All of Enid's aura disappeared after that kiss, only her bubbly roommate remained again. She could clearly see how her blush spread across her cheeks blending perfectly with her colorful hair.
Pink was definitely Enid's color.
Was the wedding dress that peculiarly cheery color? Although she could also opt for the most traditional, or wear the funeral dress that her mother used at her wedding. Because in that glimpse of the future, it was very clear that there would be no problem if her clothes fit like a second skin.
She realizes that she has lost her mind, one corner of her mouth turning up just slightly. She is rambling some nonsense that hasn't happened and she wonders if this is how her father's thoughts will always be. She has no choice but to curse the curse of her family. How is it possible that an almost childish kiss will remove the lid of Pandora's box? How something that lasted the fluttering of a bat, will lead to the worst of curses.
What it would be like to love Enid Sinclair to death.
Having her a meter away wasn't enough to get his strangled thoughts of her back into proper order. The best thing was to leave the room, leave Nevemore, catch the first flight to Romania and...
—Wednesday?
She's not sure if her name slipped under those lips, it had always sounded so euphonious and she unconsciously chose to ignore it or it's part of the curse.
—I'm not going to apologize for my outburst.— Wendnesday holds the door and says, with some amusement, before leaving through it.—By the way, Enid. Our
puppies will be terribly charming. Surely more, of those you were given birth to with that Felix guy.
Enid blinks twice and she can only think of one thing when she sees the door close:
—What the hell?!