Bal•ter
(v.) to dance artlessly, without particular grace or skill but usually with enjoyment.
In which Y/n Addams is adopted into a family of pure outcast, being an outcast herself.
What will she do when she ends up going to a school that her ado...
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Dancing Under Beds
Wednesday had been giving you much needed updates of her plans and what's going on with what current times. Though in the end you don't follow right after her. Wednesday order. She had wanted to do this by herself. Hunting down the sight Rowan was killed. And you have come to accept that.
Instead you practice something your heart has always come to be set in. That helped you to see visions much more clearly, much more fluidly. Allowing you to look more in depth of things rather than get simple flashes of those.
Clearing some things off of your floor, it was empty allowing you to move around much more easily without tripping.
You headed over to your plant. "You need sunlight and water don't you?" You said, pushing the window open. The wind entered the room. The sun beaming down the white rose. You poured the water into the dirt.
Turning on a song that you placed on loop. You set your phone down while playing, Glory And Gore by Lorde. (If you wish to have a different song than you can.)
Standing in the middle of your room, your body started to move around, twirling in a circle, spinning like a ballerina. Your body guiding itself with each step that wasn't articulated. That wasn't thought of beforehand. Your mind wanders far from the current time, the present that you are currently in. The song amplifies your body's urges to dance without such grace or skill. With such art your body moves fluid. One eye clouds of a storm while the other clouds of pure white. Flashes of visions dancing across her mind.
Your body contorts beautifully. Twisting under the light beams and past the shadows.
Visions of Rowan's death coming to light. The dropping of books coming to light. From a library with a skull laying on the ground. One that you didn't recognize. Rowan standing right above it as he lifted his hand towards a section, a book flying to his hand.
He flips the book to the correct page, a page you recognized to land on his chest right after his death. A photo of Wednesday standing before a figure. Ripping the one page of Wednesday and holding it.
More emotions started to spew into the dance. Anger for the fact of Rowan's doing was all from a vision that happened all those years ago. Enjoyment as you felt lively with your dance. Joyous as your sister survived the attack. Sad that Rowan was killed with much brutal manners and didn't survive, even if he was trying to kill your sister he most likely meant well.
The dance was likely to become chancy as the emotions bled into it. Now rolling around in the air. Your body rattles with each beat. With each step. Eyes never blinking. Arms moving around frantically. Legs looking lively. The body collaborating with one another.
The events of the night falling into the visions pieces. Rowan stopped his run, taking the air from his inhaler needing it for his stolen breathe. Wednesday right behind him yelling his name. Words incoherent. Mouths move. Silence loud. Your sister flung high in a tree. Quiet yells that fell on deaf ears could never surpass. White clothes hiding behind a tree rushing towards Rowan. A snapping of bone never heard. A scream turned into whispers. The white disappears and reappears right besides the black. A large tall beast showing up. The huge claws wrap around Rowan, lifting him in the air and slamming to the ground. Dropping glasses just to hear them break. Red blood shed, splashing all over his face. His glasses are nowhere to be seen. The monster's big beady eyes staring into both of yours before rushing off.
