nail-gunned hearts
Enid was nervous. Wednesday could tell, even from the other room. She heard the clacking of nails on nails, the rustling of a thick, probably-pink coat, the small yet close together footsteps of her pacing a groove through the floor of her room. All telltale signs of Enid’s anxiety, even back when they’d first roomed together.
Wednesday rapped on their shared wall with her knuckles.
“You’re going to be late,” she observed.
Enid took her words to be an invitation, stepping stiffly into Wednesday’s room after a series of knocks. She was wearing a quilted jacket, arms crossed and held close to her chest.
“Are you always this tightly strung when you go out?” Wednesday asked, looking Enid up and down.
“I think it’s a dating thing,” Enid tried, moving to sit on Wednesday’s bed. Her foot tapped incessantly on the floorboards, leg bouncing in restlessness. She looked at Wednesday. “I get this anxious feeling every time we go out. Can’t even control my claws, sometimes. I didn’t know getting butterflies felt like your stomach was shriveling up.”
“Sounds nauseating,” Wednesday curled her lip. “And not in a fun way.”
“Sometimes,” Enid started gingerly. She looked away, slightly sheepish. “Well, sometimes I think that—”
They were interrupted by the beep of a horn outside, and a chorus of voices shouting for Enid to come downstairs followed by a series of yips and howls.
“That’s my ride,” Enid somehow twisted her arms a little tighter around herself. “I’ll be back soon.”
“If he upsets you, he’ll find himself locked in a coffin three feet underground,” Wednesday turned on her heel, picking up a journal from the Nightshade Society Library when she’d gone to tend to the bees. She heard Enid give a terse chuckle.
“Why not six?”
“Six feet is respectful, Enid,” Wednesday spoke with conviction, like this was somehow common knowledge. “Three is reserved for idiots who toy with others’ feelings.”
“You toy with others’ feelings,” Enid relaxed a little.
“I’m not an idiot,” Wednesday shot back. “Now go. I don’t want to hear the rest of your family howl for you again.”
“Thanks, Wednesday,” Enid gave her a small smile. Thing flashed her a thumbs up. “I’ll be home after lunch. If Reed asks to play fetch, say no. He’ll end up grabbing you by the collar and running into the woods.” She stepped out of the room, a little more confident than before.
“Take your time,” Wednesday settled onto the bed, the door closing behind Enid. “All the less color and pop music to deal with.”
“I’ll miss you, too!”
--
{best friends}
raven: Reed asked me to play ‘fetch’.
raven: I’m going to say yes.
wolf: SPARE HIM
raven: It’s intriguing.
raven: I’ll be nice.
wolf: we both know you won’t
wolf: please remember his last words so we can tell mom
{raven sent a photo.}
wolf: OH MY GOD LET HIM DOWN
raven: Only if he asks nicely.
wolf: I'M COMING HOME
raven: Have fun on your date. I won’t hurt your brothers.
raven: I’ll just spook them a little.
--
{enid and ajax}
hiss: i’m outside
hiss: wru
bark: i see you!!
--
Enid waved at Ajax from afar, his beanie pulled so far over his head that it covered his eyebrows. He looked just about as stressed as Enid felt, so she reassured herself in her head.
See? Love’s supposed to be… weird. Feel weird.
“I need to talk to you,” Ajax started, but Enid had grabbed his arm and pulled him into the coffee shop.
“That can wait,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “Let’s grab something to drink. I invited Wednesday over so I have the time without my brothers.”
They’d settled with their respective coffees, with Enid grinning so hard (and so unnaturally) that her cheeks started to hurt. Ajax threaded his fingers between his hands.
“So,” Enid said. “What did you need to talk about? It’s not more gossip about Wednesday, is it?
She winked with a tiny chuckle. Ajax didn’t laugh along.
“I want to talk to you about defining our relationship,” he said, drawing a hand back to scratch at the nape of his neck.
“What about it? We’re boyfriend,” Enid pointed to Ajax, then at herself. “And girlfriend. Doesn’t get much simpler than that. Wednesday wouldn’t say anything different, and she’s supposed to be the smarter of us two.”
“I…” Ajax took a deep breath before blurting, “I want an open relationship. You know, the ones where we see other people but still… you know?”
“W- what?” Enid’s face morphed to one of confusion.
“We’re young. You know that,” Ajax said, looking away. “I don’t want to restrict myself to just one experience, right? Don’t you want to experiment a little, too?”
“I don’t feel restricted,” Enid said quietly, jaw clenched. “I… I was happy the way we were.”
But was she happy at all?
Her chest was tight, and she could see Ajax falter as she looked down at her hands, claws out and digging into the skin of her arm.
“It’s just- you know-” Ajax tried to speak. “We can still be together. Physically.We’ll just be seeing other people, too.”
“I don’t understand,” Enid said, finally looking at him.
But she did. She wasn’t stupid. Ajax clearly didn’t see anything serious with her. She’d seen how he looked at Rona during fencing. How he’d been slowly trying to pull away from her since the semester ended. How he wanted to spend less and less time talking and more time making out behind a pillar or the bleachers.
She might have been blind, but she wasn’t stupid.
“I’m clearly not enough for you, Ajax,” she said before he could speak. “If you wanted something purely physical, you should have said so. If you wanted something open, you should have said so.”
Her voice held a low growl.
“But if you won’t have me, and only me, as I am…” Enid turned away. “Then you don’t deserve me at all.”
At that, Enid stood. She felt something within her untwist, relax for the first time in months as she left the coffee shop, leaving Ajax sputtering in her absence. She felt tears in her eyes as soon as she was out of sight, pulling up her hoodie and pulling out her phone.
She felt freer than she had in weeks, and it was probably the worst she’d ever felt in her life.
--
{the pack cubs}
lil one: ronan
lil one: come pick me up
big one: ya sure
big one: didn’t ya have a date tho
lil one: not anymore
fuzzy: enids you ok??
furry: thorin obviously not
furry: ro go pick her up
shaggy: do you need us to kill someone for you
big one: already on it
big one: be there in like 4 minutes, lil sis
big one: you gon be ok?
lil one: idk
shaggy: also please come pick up your roommate she’s scary
--
Wednesday had cleaned herself up of the morning’s festivities, one of an awful lot of yipping from Reed and an absurd amount of laughter from his family as he hung by the scruff of his neck from one of the trees in their backyard. It had gotten her scarf dirty, so she put on Enid’s custom snood and sat on her bed to read the Nightshade journal from that morning.
Sirens are powerful creatures, originally coming from the ocean. I’ve noted in my travels that the seers and psychics in my troupe are far more affected by their powers than I or my other werewolf companions. Perhaps it is in conjunction with the moon and the sea. A tumultuous relationship indeed, and one that is yet to be understood in its entirety.
We suspect that due to the way psychics such as Arielle and Davenport are consistently looking for answers in the future that they can be easily manipulated due to their strong connection with the occult and their ancestors. Davenport often describes experiences of possession, resulting in rapid healing and heightened senses. He’s always described himself as a ‘raven’ when it came to these visions, and he described his encounters with sirens to be much more powerful and long lasting compared to Arielle (who he describes as a ‘dove’ of sorts).
Another mention of the words ‘raven’ and ‘dove’. Wednesday hadn’t been able to glean much more information about the two from Goody or her mother, but this ‘Davenport’ might show her another way to control her psychic abilities.
Her visions plagued her less than they had before the incident at Nevermore. They were minute, people’s injuries, accidents, flashes to happier times in their lives. It was a droll mockery of the spine-snapping horror she used to experience, but Wednesday attributed it to Goody’s absence and the distinct lack of monster-related murders nearby.
Wednesday was scanning the page for any other mention of Davenport’s name before the door was thrust open, a pink figure in a zipped up puffer jacket stalking into the room. It slammed behind the figure with the definite breaking of wood.
“Enid,” Wednesday greeted, but the blonde didn’t respond.
Instead, she unzipped her jacket, threw it across the room with a screaming snarl, and stomped over toward Wednesday.
“For the record, I didn’t hurt him,” Wednesday started, seeing the obvious rage in her eyes and the curl of her lip. Her claws were stiff at her sides, like a nocked arrow. Wednesday was sure she was going to be attacked. It was almost attractive.
But instead of the more-appealing violent death that seemed to be approaching her, Enid flopped down onto Wednesday’s outstretched legs and grabbed her around the middle, burying her face into Wednesday’s stomach underneath the Nightshade journal she had in her hands.
Enid sniffed, then clutched Wednesday tighter. She subsequently started to sob, the crying wracking her body, and Wednesday placed the book next to her on the bedside table.
“Enid,” Wednesday looked down at her form, face hidden as it pressed against Wednesday’s torso. Her hands hovered over Enid’s shoulders, and, for once, Wednesday didn’t really know what to do with them.
“I know,” Enid muttered through gritted teeth. “Tears probably burn you or something.”
Her grip on Wednesday’s waist loosened, and Wednesday finally found the strength to put her hand on Enid’s shoulder. She gave it a light squeeze.
“I need a name,” Wednesday said quietly. Enid burrowed herself a little deeper into Wednesday’s stomach, huffing a breathy sigh.
“I broke up with Ajax,” she murmured. “So I feel like shit.”
“What happened?” Wednesday pressed. She felt that murderous part of her brain turn on, one that thought of a throwaway comment about a nail gun that would definitely be of use if she hadn’t left it at home the previous day. Perhaps I could get it mailed over. Or I’ll just buy one here.
“He wanted something physical,” Enid’s whimper held a growl, a deep sound that reverberated through Wednesday’s body. “An open relationship, whatever that is. I’m pretty sure it was a cover so he could cheat on me with Rona.”
Wednesday was silent. She knew, but would never admit, that she had an obvious lack of understanding for the social part of being a person. She understood grief and pain and loss as concepts and feelings, but she’d never had to deal with it from another person this closely.
She’d gone fishing with Pugsley to make him feel better about her father’s arrest. She’d heard Bianca complain about her strained relationship with Xavier at the Rave’N. All… disgustingly considerate of her, but still from a distance.
Wednesday had never dealt with a best friend crying into her sweater about a boy who broke her heart, so she responded the way she usually did with most threats.
Senseless violence.
“Thing, fetch my nail gun,” Wednesday commanded, and the appendage jumped from his velvet pillow, moving toward her suitcase to search for a possible spare. Then, more quietly, “Nessuno spezza il cuore del mio lupo e se la cava indenne.”
She knew her use of Italian was a cover for something building up deep within her, but she decided that she didn’t have the time to think about that just yet. Maybe she never would.
“Don’t,” Enid muttered, voice muffled by her position on Wednesday’s lap. Wednesday moved to get up, only to be clutched tighter. “Don’t go anywhere. Just- just stay here.”
“Stay with me.”
--
Enid was sure Wednesday was just going to wrench herself out of the vice grip she was held in. It was a long shot, sure, but Enid didn’t expect her words to actually work.
Sure enough, she heard an intake of breath and what appeared to be a curse from the girl.
“Cara mia,” she hissed through her teeth. “Se solo sapessi l'incantesimo che hai avuto su di me.”
It was spoken with the same, strained sarcasm that Wednesday always put out, but there was an undertone to it that made Enid want to look up from her position on Wednesday’s legs.
Since she’d shifted for the very first time at the blood moon, heartbeats had come easy to her due to her heightened sense of hearing. It wasn’t something that she really had to focus on with her family, strong werewolf hearts pumping at eighty miles a minute whenever they were awake.
But with Wednesday, Enid had to concentrate to hear the faint beats of her heart. Wednesday was always half dead, she supposed, but it was difficult to discern her pulse unless she focused really, really hard.
So it came as a slight shock when Enid noticed the very slight spike in Wednesday’s heart rate, like a defribrillator jolt had kickstarted her pulse once more.
Enid knew that Wednesday dealt in small emotions. A small quirk of her lip was a toothy grin, a huffed out chuckle was roaring laughter. It made sense that her heart would behave similarly… but the reasoning didn’t quite make sense.
Why would her heart rate increase at Enid asking her to stay? Was she upset? Angry? Perhaps Enid had pushed her too hard—
“Fine,” Wednesday murmured, settling back to their original position. A hand found itself in Enid’s hair. “But we’re going with my plan later. Nail guns and all.”
Enid’s eyes widened in surprise, then closed as she broke into a smile.
“Thanks, Wednesday,” she sighed, taut muscles relaxing into the body of her best friend. She saw Wednesday reach toward her book from the corner of her eye, picking it up with one hand and turning the pages with her thumb. Her other hand was stroking Enid’s head, and Enid felt a laugh bubbling up within her.
Who would have thought? Wednesday Addams, the scariest person she’d probably ever met, letting Enid hug her while she ran her fingers through her hair.
Enid shifted her position to look up at the girl, twisting slightly to accomodate the hand on her head. Wednesday looked as unbothered as ever, but there was a slight tinge of pink to the tips of her ears. She seemed to notice Enid’s staring and pulled her snood (she was wearing her snood!) a little closer.
“Not. One. Word,” Wednesday muttered, predicting Enid’s inevitable comment. She exhaled slightly, eyes drifting back to the book in her hand. “I’m not usually this nice. It’s… unbecoming.”
“I hope you’ll be more unbecoming with me, then,” Enid replied. Wednesday’s heart rate spiked once more, but Enid didn’t really find it in herself to care. “I’ll treat you to coffee at the Weathervane. As a thank you.”
Wednesday merely hummed, eyes scanning the pages once more.
I’ll take that as a yes.
--
{ba da da dum *snap snap*}
mère: how is everything going, my raven?
figlia: About as well as you’d expect, Mother.
figlia: All of Enid’s siblings are terrified of me.
padre: ah, you always have such strong first impressions
padre: how is thing?
figlia: Annoying as ever.
figlia: Enid took him out to get their nails done. She spoils him.
mère: that vain appendage. well, i suppose he deserves a break sometimes.
figlia: A break is putting it lightly. He hasn’t lifted a finger since we got here.
sohn: someone sounds jealous
read by figlia at 14:03.
--
“It’s the blood moon tonight,” Enid’s mother explained to Wednesday that evening. “It’d be best for you to stay indoors.”
“I’m more than capable of handling myself, Mrs. Sinclair,” Wednesday shot back. “I’ve hunted with wolves as a child. We have an understanding.”
“It’s still not safe,” she insisted. “This is Enid’s second time shifting during the blood moon, and she’s tended to be… unstable when in normal full moons.”
“I’m sure I can handle myself,” Wednesday said. “Besides, you can’t lock me in my room. Even high security prisons can’t keep an Addams out.” She paused. “My uncle’s escaped three this month.”
Esther muttered something to herself before turning back to Wednesday.
“Enid isn’t a normal werewolf,” she sighed. “I always knew she’d be a little… odd, but she doesn’t act with the pack, even in her werewolf form. She always ends up hunting by herself and—well, it’s just not how we are. I want to keep a closer eye on her, and I don’t want distractions to keep her from progressing.”
Distraction. Wednesday wondered how Enid lived so long with people who barely acknowledged her life outside of their common traits. All this talk of normality almost made her want to go back the the Addams Manor; surrounding herself with oddities and unique experiences was a part of her family’s charm, and part of the reason she attracted so much trouble (not that it was unwelcome trouble).
“I thought she’d already told you she’d progress on her own,” Wednesday recalled in a past conversation, and she noticed Esther stiffen slightly.
“I want what’s best for her,” she crossed her arms.
“Enid can forge her own path,” Wednesday replied. “What’s best might not be what she wants.”
Wednesday knew she was behaving… oddly. She noticed it the moment she replied to Enid’s very first text. Then she replied to another. And another.
It wasn’t the protectiveness she felt for her brother or Eugene. Not the aloof conversations with Xavier and Bianca. It was different. It had to be; she was sitting in a home with a pack full of rowdy werewolves with the alpha female lecturing her about a blood moon she’d already done enough research on to teach it herself.
Wednesday figured this was just how they were. According to Enid’s own annoying words: they worked. Enid never flinched at Wednesday’s dry sarcasm and Wednesday put up with the rainbows and k-pop and hugs.
Maybe she more than tolerated the hugs.
But now wasn’t the time to dwell. Wednesday had things to focus on. The stalker, Nevermore’s second semester, the upcoming blood moon.
She’d just stick with murmured Italian for now.
--
{best friends}
wolf: we’re on our way back
raven: Already?
wolf: yeah
wolf: blood moon tonight’s got me really jumpy
wolf: can’t really sit still for manicures
raven: Speaking of the blood moon.
raven: I’d like to join you.
wolf: ARE YOU CRAZY
wolf: NO WAY
raven: I can handle myself, Enid.
wolf: I CAN'T CONTROL MYSELF YET WEDS
wolf: literally wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you got hurt
wolf: plus my mom would actually kill me
raven: Your mother came to the logical conclusion that there would probably be no way to keep me in your home.
wolf: ugh of course
wolf: but i can't allow it
raven: What makes you think I needed your permission in the first place?
wolf: you asked.
wolf: you wouldn’t have asked if you were gonna do it anyway
wolf: you’d probably trick your way into coming with us
wolf: why do you wanna come along, anyway?
raven: Call it morbid curiosity.
wolf: so… moral support?
raven: That’s not what I said.
wolf: that’s what i heard!
raven: I think I’ll stay behind, then.
wolf: good!
raven: … I see.
raven: You’ve backed me into a corner, Sinclair.
wolf: checkmate, addams.
--
Enid’s heart rate began to pick up when she smelled blood. It wasn’t human, but it put her on edge as she walked through the door to the Sinclair Residence. It wasn’t time to wolf out; the moon hadn’t even risen yet, so hunting was out of the question. What unsettled her even more was that Thing had disappeared from her sight the moment they’d arrived at the house.
As she moved cautiously toward the smell, she noticed that it was coming from Wednesday’s room, followed by a sickening crack of metal.
“Wednesday?” she called out.
“Enid, perfect timing,” Wednesday’s muffled voice came from the door. “Thing, let her in.”
“Is everything alright?” Enid asked as the door swung open, and she was buffeted with the intoxicating yet nauseating smell of red meat.
Still fresh, her heightened senses added unhelpfully.
“What is this?” she asked, feeling fangs against her tongue.
“I don’t make empty threats, Enid,” Wednesday was standing across the room, nail gun in hand and a blackboard in front of her. There was blood on her face, and the terrifying reality suddenly set in.
If he breaks your heart, I’ll nail gun his.
“Wednesday, you didn’t—” she almost gagged before Wednesday crossed the room, thrusting smelling salts underneath her nose.
“I didn’t,” Wednesday said, a hint of disappointment in her eyes. “As much as I’d have liked to, I figured you’d want to kill him yourself. I decided to focus on… symbolism.”
“Oh my god,” Enid took the salts from her, exasperated. She inhaled deeply, but the smell of fresh meat didn’t wash from her memory. “I leave you alone for two hours and you’ve already taxidermied something.”
“It’s not taxidermy,” Wednesday said, dragging the board forward towards Enid, who took another deep breath of the smelling salts. It was getting intoxicating, and Enid was growing curious. “It’s a gift.”
When Wednesday turned the board toward her, Enid’s eyes widened.
“Elk heart,” Enid whispered. And so it was, blood neatly mopped off and placed in a bowl underneath the pinned-up organ. The needles were masterfully placed, and Enid knew that a single tug would cause all of them to fall with ease.
“Reed told me it was your favorite food and I made him drive me,” Wednesday said, donning black rubber gloves and carefully unpinning the heart. “Tule elk are surprisingly simple to shoot.” She paused. “I figured that this would minimize the whining you’d do about Ajax. It’s gotten insufferable already.”
Enid noticed Thing from the corner of her eye.
She wants to make you feel better, Thing signed, and Enid could barely hold back a grin.
“Refrain from talking about me behind my back, Thing,” Wednesday muttered. “Unless you want another stab wound through your own.”
She handed the heart to Enid gingerly, with the precision of a surgeon.
“Considering the blood moon, I expect you’d prefer it raw?” she asked, and Enid stared at her, unable to stop the toothy smile that spread across her face.
“Absolutely,” Enid replied, feeling the small ache of her canines morphing to be sharp and deadly, perfect to tear into fresh meat. “Thank you, Wednesday. I owe you twice now.”
“It’s nothing,” Wednesday turned away, but Enid could hear the small smile in her voice as she took the first mouth-watering bite. “Just returning a favor.”