Young and in Love - Wenclair

About You

that night I had clasped my hands and knelt before the altar and in tones too low for god to hear I had wished, quietly, dangerously, for the stain of your vile blood upon my skin....

-

"What are you doing?"

Wednesday felt the skeleton of her body nearly jump from her skin at the docile voice speaking by the shell of her ear, but managed to keep her composure despite Enid's proximity.

This was happening more and more lately.

As time went on, painfully slow, Enid began to startle her, as she so begrudgingly had to admit. There was no other word for the way she felt her entire body set aflame by the other girl's presence, or why her macabre stories had slowly began filtering into something akin to a dark romance. Yes- her mind was startled, too. Her nerves felt electrified when Enid looked at her with cobalt blue, her skin feeling a little too tight when Enid would press up against her as they walked, and her heart squeezed like it was within the blonde's clawed grip. A little bit tighter, the nails digging into the raw surface slowly but surely until she was sure to give in and fall to her knees at the mantle of the other girl's altar.

Yes. Startled was appropriate here.

Wednesday tilts her head back to look at the werewolf, not accounting for the fact their cheeks were now nearly flushed together, the sheer warmth radiating off pale cheeks enough to send her body into overdrive. Far too much adrenaline, yet reflexes mollified with one half-smile.

Her thoughts had been startled so badly, too, that she now couldn't even fathom feeling reproachful toward her roommate.

Enid doesn't look at the pages coveting Wednesday's desk like a lamb skin, nor does she even try and read the latest instalment to her novel. A novel she had completely filled with whatever idiotic dreams or thoughts she had been having as of late, which usually involved the other girl.

No. Her eyes were warm, watching Wednesday with that same tender devotion her father watched Morticia with.

It had been coming to this since the return to school after the Tyler-Thornhill incident (and subsequently the rise of the undead pilgrim.). Each day got a bit more bearable to live, which left every night a bitter reprieve of remembering every detail about what Enid wore that day or what had been peaking her interest as of late.

She was intelligent, even with the affairs of the heart. An art befallen upon her since birth under her parents loving care, and even more nauseating display of affection to each other. She knew what this all meant for her. Knew what Enid's more skittish behaviour at the beginning of term, that's levelled to something nervous and unsure was.
But for the life of her, could not figure out why she was on the receiving end of such a loyal fondness when she'd done nothing but show Enid her worse qualities. Threatened her. Loathed her, even to the point she felt the ramifications of guilt.
Perhaps she's less startled now. Now she is nonplussed. So much so, she cannot for the life of her, force her tongue to work.

Releases a bit of the python grip around her vocal cords.
"Writing."

Enid hums, inclining her head. "Mind if I put some music on?"

Wednesday drags her teeth over her tongue, jaw jutting. Looks up to meet soft moonlit-eyes that she could see her own reflection in. She looks exhausted, and sickly. Enid looks like if Wednesday were to fall ill at that very second, she would spare her life in turn for Wednesday's survival.

Oh, how Wednesday thinks she would live for Enid. Nods curtly.
"Fine. But not loudly."

Enid's lips flutter into a smile like the gaps of sunlight, leaning down slow enough for Wednesday to move if she needed, but she doesn't, practically rooted to the chair as if it were merely an extension of her body. Lips press to her forehead in barely a brush, her touch featherlight and gone as though it never happened. Wednesday feels her body relax, inhaling shakily through her teeth when Enid's gone to fiddle with her speaker.