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It is strange, experiencing it for the first time. It wasn’t there yesterday and now it just knocks the air out of Enid’s lungs.
She opens her eyes with a tight feeling in her chest, like somebody is sitting there, pressing all their weight on her body. The high ceiling blurs before Enid’s eyes as she blinks heavily and all she can feel is a smell of roses in the room. It’s so intense that she can hardly breathe, each sigh forcing out of her with strain.
- You awake? - asks Wednesday’s voice from somewhere in the room, but Enid can’t tear her gaze away from the ceiling, from the dim cobweb in the corner, her body heavy like a stone at the bottom of the ocean. Why is it so heavy? - Enid?
Wednesday appears in Enid’s line of vision, her steps silent, her expression worried - such worried as her face could ever be: a small difference in the line of her mouth, brows drawn together. Enid knows it now, after all this time.
- Fine, - Enid rasps, her throat raw and aching, she doesn’t sound like herself at all. And why, oh why did she have to say something? The scent of roses forces itself into her with that one pitiful breath, hot as lava, suffocating like carbon monoxide. Sweet on her tongue.
- No, you are not. What’s the matter? - Wednesday's brows furrow even more deeply as she sits down on Enid's bed, on the very edge, looking worried and sullen in the bright morning light. The roses’ scent deepens with her movement, surrounding both of them like a cloud.
Enid can’t breathe.
Heart beating loud in the ribcage, she throws a hand forward, clinging with trembling fingers to the front of Wednesday's night dress, tugging her fiercely. Wednesday folds frontward without resistance, her body still a little sleepy after waking up. It's a cold and light weight on top of Enid, it's bony fingers sliding along the neck into her sleep-tangled hair, familiar now, it's a muffled chuckle to her chest. And it’s so easy for Enid now, surprisingly, to close her hands around Wednesday’s waist, tugging her more on top, hiding her face in the curve of the pale neck.
It smells of roses so strongly that with every breath Enid takes, it feels like a rose garden is growing inside her, but she continues to breathe it in, burying her nose deeper and deeper into Wednesday’s skin, as if trying to dissolve in it. Enid feels her fangs pressing against the skin of her lips from the inside, bursting, the desire to bite Wednesday, to devour her completely overshadows all thoughts. She tightens her grip on Wednesday's waist, pushing into her as if trying to blend their bodies into one, the scent of roses bursting through her lungs from the inside, but Enid inhales it harder, unable to get enough.
Wednesday allows it. Without protest, without resistance. She just lays there, cold and calm as usual, running her fingers through Enid's hair, breathing sincerely into her temple. They lay like this for some amount of time, maybe minutes, maybe hours, tangled limbs and shallow breathing, not speaking, until Enid finally can feel her body relax, muscles stiff and sore like after the transformation, heart beating steadily in her chest.
- Okay? - is all that Wednesday asks after Enid relaxes the grip of hands on her waist.
- Yeah, - Enid closes her eyes, breathing in and out, scent of roses still there, stronger even, but not suffocating, sweet and herbal. She feels like falling through the ground, head spinning a little. - You smell like roses.
- Do I? - a bit of curiosity in her question, fingers still running unrecognizable patterns in Enid’s hair.
- Yeah, - she says again, no more words in her. But she finds some more without trying. - Love you.
Wednesday chuckles, a hot wave of air against Enid’s temple.
- Love you too. You smell like earth. I want to dig myself in you, - it can be creepy to hear it from anybody else, more if from Wednesday. But Enid is not afraid, on the contrary, she suddenly feels at home, peaceful and relaxed. Loved. Ground swallows her whole and she is pleased by it.
- You can, - Enid speaks barely above a whisper, turning her head and finding Wednesday’s smiling lips.
- I know, - is the response, warm and breathless in the kiss, tasting like roses and love.