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Of course Nevermore would elect to have the Gala theme as Pre-Revolution France. They were dressed as flamboyant aristocracy indulging in h'ordeuvres when masked among them was a deceptive leader exploiting them all. It almost too ironic, even for Wednesday. If all goes well tonight, she may get to bust out her childhood guillotine for a beheading; practicing on something other than her dolls.
Candelabras speckled the vast space, small flames dancing in the ambient lighting, a dangerous amount of fire for how much of the high-rise ceiling was draped with red velvet and surrounded by dead, dried out floral bouquets. The only way to make this masquerade more interesting on top of plotting the nefarious principle's downfall would be for this party to set ablaze. Thankfully, the night was still young.
Standing still as a statue on the mosaic floor, Wednesday crossed arms over her chest, scouring the perimeter of bobbing heads concealed with masks, instinctively searching the stairs for a certain wolf that should be arriving soon. Hopefully Enid's dullard date either decided to no show or somehow fell into a pit of bloodthirsty crocodiles. Either way, she couldn't comprehend why Enid was allowing him the privilege of escorting her to the dance.
For some reason, Wednesday wished she had that privilege instead. Instead, she's ensnared by the vicious trammel of a familial gathering.
"I'm sorry, Wednesday, I tried to get your favorite magician to come tonight, but he was fully booked." Mother expressed, clasping hands together at her waist, disappointment dragging down her porcelain stiff face.
Wednesday frowned. How unfortunate. Magnus the Magnificent had been a childhood favorite of hers, capable of disemboweling himself on stage and could put everything back inside, stitching himself up in record timing like nothing had ever happened.
"I'm sure we can get him in time for your next birthday, my little tormenta." Father reassured with a charming grin, cigar clutched between pearly teeth as he soothed Mother's arm, smoke ribboning into the air.
"Who will you get for my birthday?" Pugsley asked with annoying amounts of optimism, always forcing himself into the center of attention.
"A grim reaper to escort you down to the River Styx," Wednesday replied, side-eyeing her brother, "I'll even give you coins for the Ferryman."
"Sweet!" Pugsley exclaimed, pumping fists in the air, which caused the bells of his jester hat to peal.
"You costume is filling me with the indomitable urge to lure you underground with promise of Amontillado, only to seal you behind a bricked wall for you to die a slow, painful death where no one will hear your screams." Wednesday deadpanned, gaze darting up and down him judgementally.
Pugsley lit up and turned to their mother, "Can we Mom? Please?"
"Not now," Mother answered, but a small smile bloomed on her sanguine lips as she dipped her head and brushed a hand along Pugsley's back, "Maybe after the Gala."
Wednesday quirked her lip deviously. She'd been meaning to find an opportunity to freshen up on her masonry.
"Sounds far more thrilling than this insipid excuse for a Gala," Grandmama scoffed while sipping on an apple martini, making critical comments on the tacky decor with her eyes alone, "Your fifth birthday was more entertaining than this, Morticia. One of your cousins was eaten by a tiger before I'd even had my second drink."
"I remember, we had to haul him out of the tiger's throat," Mother reminisced, bordering fondness but a bitterness seethed beneath, crinkling her eyes, "You gave me my first taste of wine."
"Oh, that wasn't your first. We bottle-fed you cabernet. It was the only thing that would stop your senseless squalling as a baby." Grandmama cackled, sleeking back her silver hair.
Mother's smile tightened.
Wednesday stifled a groan of agony. If she had to endure this tortuous exhibition of mother-daughter estrangement for another moment, she may set this place on fire herself.
Her eyes flit to the staircase, where a figure as brilliantly luminous as a supernova dragged down the steps with the floating fluidity of a spectre, a hand tracing the banister.
Enid.
Wednesday's lips parted with a soft gasp.
In this moment, though she'd spent her childhood reading dictionaries and thesauruses to enhance her vocabulary, she found herself completely and utterly speechless.
The wolf is ravishing, ribbons cascading from her ivory and apricot dress like an ethereal jellyfish as she prowled down the grand staircase, gemstones and glitter catching in the light of the jeweled chandelier above. Head kept down, Enid peered through the crowd, and when their eyes met, Wednesday's heart sank.
Enid'a face was sunken with defeat, a melancholic gleam in her oceanic gaze.
Something was wrong.
Wednesday bothered no excuse pivoting away from the unofficial family reunion into the crowd, forcing her way through the sea of masked figures and ruffled dresses, assaulted by all sorts of silks and satins brushing against her arms, the candlelights flickering through her veil like stars.
She arrived at the stone staircase as Enid pounced down the final steps, shuffling her feet as opposed to her standard buoyancy.
"Enid?" Wednesday tested the waters, coming to a standstill but dipping her head aside ever so slightly.
Enid sniffled, tears shimmering in her steel blue eyes like diamonds, then patted her ducts dry and turned away with a forced smile, "Bruno's long-term girlfriend decided to show up."
Wednesday stiffened, a fury sharpening her features, then folded arms over her chest and intoned, "I never go anywhere without enough weapons to inflict several different types of suffering. Perhaps it's not to late for me to escort him."
"No, no," Enid insisted, waving hands at her to desist, a small blubber blurting out of her—wolf whimpers, as the lycanthrope had coined it—and she jerked away with a deep, forced inhale, "It's fine, he has a girlfriend, so what? It's not that, it's just," She paused, shook her hands, then tugged on a face-framing curl, "Now the pack is blowing up with all kinds of drama. And, drama during the full moon is the worst, it gets so toxic."
Though Wednesday questioned why wolves would poison each other for the sake of petty pubescent squabbles, she lifted her chin and assured, "None of that matters. I tried to tell you he wasn't worth your time."
"Guess you were right." Enid shrugged unenthusiastically, wilting over like a dying flower, sliding a hand along her wrist.
Wednesday's stomach knotted. She couldn't stand the sight of Enid's dimmed, gloomy eyes. It was an itch so deeply sown not even carving a knife into herself would relieve it, something she couldn't stand to bear a moment longer.
The orchestra stationed across the ballroom played a low, harmonious hymn to warm up the instruments, then started their first song. Dmitri Shostakovich's "Waltz no.2". A tastful choice even Wednesday couldn't complain about. Perhaps a dance would ease the wolf's nerves, the last thing Enid needed tonight was to wolf out over a boy.
Around them, people paired up with one another, congregating into a circular formation of rows.
Wednesday stepped towards her, extended a hand, and took a bow to beckon, "Come with me."
"What?" Enid gawked at her, lifting her brows, "Wednesday Addams wants to dance?"
"Dancing calms you down, does it not?" Wednesday quirked a brow back at her.
"Well, yeah, but it's not like I've ever waltzed or anything like that!" Enid replied, wringing her hands. "They don't exactly teach you ballroom dancing at werewolf camp."
"I've been waltzing since the moment I could walk," Wednesday revealed, dark eyes staring intensely up at her through her veil, "Follow my lead."
"If you say so." Enid sighed, starting to smile, then accepted the offered hand with a curtsey.
Without delay, Wednesday pulled her in, hands clasped together right above their shoulders, the other at Enid's waist—whose arm Wednesday guided onto her shoulder—and they strode in line with the other pairs, waltzing in a circle like clockwork.
"I can't believe Wednesday Addams knows how to ballroom dance." Enid giggled, still squinching apprehensively at her.
"Unfortunately, my family likes to throw balls for every minute achievement," Wednesday intoned, rolling her eyes, "They once threw a three-day long extravaganza when Pugsley finally managed to learn how to tie his shoes."
"At least your family is supportive." Enid muttered, stumbling along but Wednesday straightened up, solidifying her grip and steadying her footing until they stepped in sync—the wolf had sufficient footwork, that was for sure, "That explains how your mom was able to throw this all together so quickly."
Blank-faced, Wednesday replied, "This is nothing. My mother would consider this a Sunday dinner event. They didn't even include the Mamushka."
"Do I even want to know what that is?" Enid arched a brow.
"It's an Addams tradition. My family engages in a duel whilst dancing." Wednesday informed, her face stiffening with concentration, trying not to let her focus be bogged down by how warm the wolf's buttery soft skin was against Wednesday's ice cold fingers—Enid was always religious about moisturizing, and it showed, especially with her horde of Bath and Body Works lotions and potions of every scent that took up half their shared bathroom.
"Not to the death, right?" Enid twisted her head cautiously, their skirts tailing their movement as they danced around the encircled space, fabric dusting the stone floor.
"Depends." Wednesday said, stepping back to lift up her arm and spin the wolf towards her, whose rococo dress fluttered as she twirled. Pressing her breasts up again Enid's shoulder blades, she jutted her chin over the wolf's shoulder, outstretching one arm and placing the other one Enid's corset.
"Good to know. I don't think I'll participate in that dance if I come to visit your house." Enid snorted with a nervous side eye, her cheeks radiating heat against Wednesday's forehead, then her gaze fell, "If I don't wolf out and never get to do anything human ever again."
"You won't wolf out." Wednesday urged gruffly, digging her chin into the wolf's collar, taking in the scent of cherry blossoms and lavender in the peachy curls springing around her face. It disgusted her how fixated she could become on such a scent that wasn't the delightful odor of putrefaction.
"You don't know that." Enid snapped, turning her head away though they continued to sidestep together, switching from left to right in a zigzag motion.
"I won't let it happen."
"You can't control everything." Enid said somberly—though Wednesday certainly begged to differ—threading her fingers tighter into Wednesday hand, gripping them firmly, "With the pack divided like they are now, they'll be no help with this Alpha stuff. I haven't even told them. They're already worked up, and if they find out I'm an alpha, they'll literally want to kill me–"
"They won't." Wednesday hounded, returning Enid's grip with a firmer on, one so tight it left white indents on the wolf's outer hand.
"Mrs. Capri said it's in their werewolf genes, who knows if they even have a choice," Enid nervously stammered, her eyes going wide, "The pack is supposed to keep me from changing, but with all the drama going on…what if I wolf out and they all hunt me down?"
"You won't wolf out." Wednesday repeated, stonefaced as she spun Enid out along her arm until they faced one another, hands still clasped together at eyelevel.
"You don't know that." Enid cried, taking a deep breath but waterworks continued to gather in her eyes, making them shimmer like sapphires, "I wolfed out without a full moon for the first time while dancing," She gasped and gaped, "What if it happens again tonight, on stage–"
Drawing the wolf in as they formed an arch overhead out of their arms, Wednesday dipped her head and vowed, "You said so yourself: I'm your pack. I won't let you wolf out. And, if you do, you have nothing to worry about with the other wolves. If they're intent on killing you, then they'll have to miraculously survive me first. I wouldn't mind a few werewolf skin rugs."
"I don't think werewolf rugs are very ethical." Enid grimaced, her breath hot and airy against Wednesday's frigid nose, "Pretty sure they're illegal."
"I have no qualms displaying my vanquishes of those who dared to harm you." Wednesday intoned, taking a step back until their arms were in straight line, and they held each other's gaze.
"Good to know." Enid smiled warmly, baring pearly canines, crimsoning through her porcelain foundation with rose blooming beneath her pink blush.
Wednesday swiftly glanced away, swallowing hard, then twirled the wolf towards her to resume their first position with them breast to breast, one hand on Enid's corset and the other intertwined with her fingers at their heads.
"Wolves and ravens often form a symbiotic relationship in the wild," Wednesday informed, lost in Enid's prismatic glow from the candle-lit grand chandelier above, her focus zeroed in on the splash of aquamarine glittering in the inner corner of the wolf's eyes, "Ravens are omnivores and scavengers; they'll feast on cadavers, but lack the ability to tear open hides themselves to access the meat. The ravens will lead the wolves to prey, and they all share the carcass."
"So, ravens eat dead bodies. That's a totally not creepy fact. You sure know how to set the mood." Enid nervously laughed, loose ringlets sweeping over her luminously highlighted cheekbones as she swayed her head—Wednesday would never admit how much she was capable of adoring something as abhorrent as glitter when it decorated the wolf's supple features. "Why don't the wolves just eat them instead of sharing?"
"Because their relationship is mutually beneficial," Wednesday added, "Ravens help keep lookout, and assist the wolves' hunts by searching for potential prey and calling them with their findings. They all share the spoils. Ravens will even play with the wolves' young."
"I didn't know that." Enid said softly, and with the way innocence rounded her face, Wednesday can't help but think she bore a striking resemblance to Marie Antoinette in a way that made her want to devote her life to protecting as if she were a knighted guard.
"I see that potential with us, a partnership of mutual benefits," Wednesday admitted, and for some reason, her cadaverously cold cheeks started to warm, then as the song began to reach its finale, raised her hand to spin Enid under her arm and around her in a circle. Bracing the wolf's shoulder blades to dip her back with their linked hands extended out, Wednesday hovered over her, eyes boring into hers with unprecedented sincerity, "By the laws of nature, we are bound to form a bond that transcends species.
Agape, Enid stared up at her, her weight entirely supported by Wednesday's arm on her back and the other hoisting her wrist in a death-like grip that left no fear of falling in her eyes.
Sparks zapped through Wednesday. She went stiff as a statue. A restlessness scratched at her chest. For a moment, she thought she was having a premonition, that her psychic ability had finally returned.
But instead of seeing a vision, the only thing revealed to her was an inexorable fascination with the girl beneath her who, only a year ago, she couldn't stand to be around and now, Wednesday found the idea of living without her emotional outbursts, pop music jams and eyesore clothing choices intolerable. It was a pain inside her that visiously pumped her blood unlike anything else before, a curse that willed her to be at this wolf's mercy and allow someone to be her equal.
"You're the first friend I've ever had." Wednesday can't believe those words just left her mouth, and yet, she'd been aching to find a way express these gnawing, irksome emotions that'd been eating away at her like acid. It was a disease that only the wolf seemed to inflict.
"You're the first one to accept me for who I am, and didn't care if I ever wolfed out or not." Enid admitted, pressing her dangling hand against Wednesday's collarbones.
By all technicalities, it didn't make any sense. It was a scientific marvel. Enid was everything Wednesday thought she hated: pink, preppy, emotional, needy, affectionate, all thing she should abhor; and yet, she yearned to have this wolf as a fundamental part of her, an extension of herself, for Enid to be her's and no one else's.
"I think you're the only person I can ever tolerate to be around," Wednesday said softly, lost in the wolf's luminescent eyes, "You have cursed me to feel emotions I would prefer to keep locked away in a box for all eternity."
Enid smiled—a weapon so lethal it should be outlawed as a war crime—craning her neck up towards her to implore, "Do you promise you won't let me be alone?"
"Enid," Wednesday sibilated, dipping her head downwards until her face was in hers, gaze narrowed fiercely and squeezing Enid's wrist, "I would crawl to the end of the Earth to save you from solitude. I wish nothing more than for you to be an inextricable part of my life."
Enid swelled with adoration, the pulse thrumming against Wednesday's fingers skipping a beat. Inching her hand up towards Wednesday's collar, Enid's gaze flicked down to her to lips, where her own glossed florid lips parted, and then locked eyes with her once more, a carnivorous gleam in her enthralling gaze.
"Wednesday," Enid whispered breathily, almost in the tone as if she were about to ask a question, and as slow as honey, started to lift her head towards her, eyes wide with equal amounts of hunger and apprehension, "I think, I-I don't know, but I, the way I feel about you, I see you as more than a friend."
Muddled, Wednesday arched a brow, shooting her an inquisitive glance, "Are we…best friends? Roommates?"
Neither of those felt right. The words Wednesday searched for all doomed her to repeat a cycle she never wanted to live, but, the words felt right only for the wolf.
"No, I think it's more than that," Enid elucidated, hand sliding up to Wednesday's neck, and she licked her lips, "I…God, it doesn't make any sense, but, I think I'm…I have feelings for you. More than friend feelings. More than best friend. A roommate, but for life. You know what I mean?"
Brows creasing, Wednesday wrung the wolf's wrist, cradling it to her ear, the drumming pulse music to her. As Enid elevated towards her, eyelids fluttering to half-mast, her lips separating with a clear course towards her own.
It was at this moment that Wednesday recognized the familiar scenario. Her first kiss with Tyler—while a regret, it served its purpose as an experiment—and all it's clear signs replicated before her. Was Enid wanting to kiss her?
Was Wednesday not entirely against the idea?
Why did a gravitational pull drive her closer to the wolf below her, unable to tear her eyes away, each second closing the gap between shared breath, to go from two separate beings to a single one.
Wrapping a hand around Wednesday's nape, Enid closed her eyes and hoisted herself up.
Wednesday, eyes wide open and unflinching, watched the advance with the intense anticipation of a scientific experiment that could blow up in her face at any minor mishap or miscalculation, pulling the wolf closer by her shoulders, feeling back muscles ripple against her forearm.
She doesn't dare to blink and miss it.
"Enid?" The soft, sultry voice can belong to none other than Isadora Capri, bringing down the axe on the suddenly tension that'd amassed between the two girls.
Though Enid squealed and backpedaled, Wednesday tightened her grip to haul her up to her feet, immediately ripping her arms away with a furiously frozen face as they both turned towards the teacher.
Smoothing out the fabric over her dress cage, Enid shuffled her feet, putting on her signature strained smile—that used way too much teeth in a wolfish way Wednesday found endearing—and cleared her throat as she suddenly stilled, "Yes, Mrs. Capri?"
Wednesday fumed so fiercely she's certain she was about to spontaneously combust, eyes nearly ready to pop out of her skull. She began to ponder how long it would take her to eliminate everyone in the room to ensure this embarrassment doesn't reach anyone else's ears.
"Your routine is about to start, you still need to warm up," Isadora cordially reminded, clasping hands together at the gathered waist of her cream gown, sending a swift glance to the both of them with a subtle smirk, then lifted her chin at Enid, "Where's Bruno? He'll need to warm up for the set, too."
Enid's expression plummeted. Tugging at her skirt, she bowed and mumbled, "Right," Turning to Wednesday, she wore a sheepish grin and glanced away, "I'll have to go figure that out now, I guess. Good luck tonight with the plan."
Unable to find a way to speak through the miasmal wrath seething within, Wednesday simply nodded, posture rigid as stone. How could she have let her guard down like that? Who will exploit this weakness of hers now?
Leaping towards Isadora, Enid snuck one last glance at Wednesday before shying away, and the teacher placed a hand on her back to lead her forward. Before they were swept away by the crowd, Isadora peered over her shoulder at Wednesday, tapering her gaze suspiciously before winking, then disappeared behind a masked guest.
With a scorned glare, Wednesday crossed her arms, confronted with a feeling that was a stranger to her. This embarrassment scorched through her like fire, longing to set the world ablaze for leaving her in this limbo of unresolved emotions.
What was Enid to her?
"I never thought I'd see the day my deathtrap willing waltzed with another," Father came sauntering to her side, sniffling and teary eyed, "You used to threaten to decapitate us when we had you attend lessons."
"The threat still stands." Wednesday deadpanned, lips curling into a sneer.
"Don't worry, I won't tell your mother." Father winked, taking a puff of the cigar and letting out a deep exhale of pride, "I just never thought it'd be with someone like her. She certainly has an…eccentric taste."
"For some reason I can't fathom, I find that things I normally can't tolerate aren't so unimaginable in her presence." Wednesday revealed, face losing all its pressure as she spotted a glimpse of Enid in the crowd, more ardent than a flame within the sea of people, before she was swept away once more, leaving Wednesday with a sense of longing she wished she cut out with a hacksaw.
"Love will do that to you," Father sighed, whisking his wrist, flicking the cigar at her, "It'll make you do crazy things, especially our family, we love deeply. It's worse than any poison, potion or spell."
Wednesday's throat tightened. Love. That's the word she's been avoiding. The word she feared the most. The word that would turn her into a hormonal monster like her parents.
"Is there a way to stop it?" Wednesday inquired with a side-eye.
Father smirked and shook his head, almost sympathetically, "No, sorry my vicious viper. But, love isn't a weakness, it's our family's greatest strength. Our love for each other is what makes us Addamses."
Wednesday's gaze fell, and a heartbeat passed before she asked quietly, "Is it still love if I don't always like to be touched, or want to have children, or be a housewife, especially the way you and Mother are?"
"There's all kinds of love, everyone loves in a different way," Father laughed warmly, giving her shoulder a gentle pat, "Only you would be the one to bring a werewolf into the family. I have to say, she reminds me of your Aunt Debbie."
"I feel as though they'd get along famously." Wednesday observed, straightening her posture.
"They're both man-eating monsters with razor sharp claws." Father jested, forming talons out of his hand with a cheeky grin at her.
"Father," Wednesday started, lifting her chin up to earnestly meet his gaze, "Thank you, for not telling anyone."
"You'll bring her to the family when you're ready, won't you?" Father pressed with a squint.
Casting her gaze aside, she hesitated. If she truly did love Enid, then that would be the reality of their future, wouldn't it?
But did Enid love her back?
Could Wednesday bear the idea of the wolf rejecting her?
Was the darkness inside of Wednesday too depraved for Enid to ever view her in that light?
Perhaps, even if they're separated by species and nature, they can learn to coexist in a way that is mutually beneficial to them.