Chapter Text
Wednesday had always been drawn to the complexities and details of classic horror. They held their own bleak intrigue and tackled fables and truths-like Frankenstein-that had never made it into the sphere outside of creature knowledge prior.
Cthulhu for example. A ground-breaking concept woven into modern works like the Pirates of the Caribbean series. Spine tinglingly horrific… Fantasy. Or so mortals thought.
Wednesday curiously eyed the creature across from her in the student’s courtyard, his tentacles so grand they protruded from his blazer like Edward’s hands primed with scissors.
Yes, Wednesday thought. She quite liked it here among the creatures of true reality. The oddballs that lurked in the shadows brought forth to the light here.
“You’re staring,” Enid said.
“When someone has the bodily composition of a sea creature one is bound to stare. His form is quite magnificent.”
Narrowing her eyes at the boy, Enid straightened her back, feeling her wolf inside quick to anger with a flick of jealousy. “You’re attracted to him?”
“Of course not. Men are a pathetic waste of time. Taming them is most like training an animal devoted to running in circles after its own tail.”
“Oh.”
“Do you think he would give me one of his scales for a séance that must be performed on the blood moon? The books stated that Cthulian scales are far more powerful than that of any other sea creature for raising spirits for communication.”
“That sounds kinda unethical,” Enid said, laughing awkwardly.
“Ethics are a ridiculous game played by children who think they can impose order on an arbitrary universe.”
“An arbitrary what now?”
“I shall ask.”
“Wednesday!” she yelled, running after her friend before she could cross yet another student’s personal space.
For someone so consumed by the space of her bubble she often crossed those of others. Though Enid supposed it was without knowing. Wednesday’s social cues differed from her own. She would respect any boundary but only when it was made clear, whereas no one respected Wednesday’s boundaries even when clear. It was why she was so careful now about crossing them herself, not wishing to force herself into Wednesday’s space as others so often did.
Though she could remember the hug that one night like fire dancing across the backs of her eyelids. It had coincided with a change in her wolf scent that made something worryingly clear…
Her wolf had chosen Wednesday as her mate.
Something Wednesday seemed to have no clue about, though the signs were beginning to become unavoidable. Soon she would have to broach the topic though Enid feared such. She was already bracing herself for the immediate rejection.
The first thing she noticed was the heightened emotions, caused by Wednesday not acknowledging the bond. Then again that was likely Enid’s fault for not having told her about the existence of it.
“You can’t just kill him,” Enid said.
“Pugsley has stolen my beloved book on divination that is no longer in print. There are only three known copies in existence, and he is desecrating it with unwashed hands and breaking the delicate spine like an animal. He has tested the fates and now it is decided. Pugsley will pay for this offence with his life.”
“Can’t you just torture him as you usually do?” Enid found herself saying, voice high pitched with worry. “You know, roll him down a hill in a bin or bring out your electrocution station? That would be far more fun than murder, right? Like it sounds pretty fun and if you kill him, he’s no longer there to play with.”
“You do present a point I suppose. Though Pugsley has brought this upon himself. When one dabbles with theft, they know that they may lose a hand. This time Pugsley has called for his head.”
“Decapitation sounds kinda messy though, doesn’t it? All that cleanup. Yeesh.” Rocking back on her heels she let out a whistle.
Wednesday paced the room before her. Enid could feel her emotions rippling through their bond connection like a peripheral feeling there in the recesses of her mind. Though she was considering murder, Enid still loved her. She would take whatever Wednesday would offer even if it was friendship.
Though her wolf cried out, wishing to lay claim as her own. She was aware of the fact Wednesday didn’t like human contact, and she would never ask that of her. But to call Wednesday her girlfriend? Her soulmate? Well, that felt like everything and more. However even that felt far too much of an ask, so Enid took their friendship and treated that as the world instead. Anything would always be enough.
The issue was that wolves and their mates were awfully protective. “I’ll deal with him,” Enid tried. The last thing she wanted was for Wednesday to kill someone she loved even if she pretended not to.
“No one is allowed to harm Pugsley but me.”
“But wouldn’t it be more exciting to scare him with another creature? A wolf could scare him far more than death would. Death is easy in comparison.”
“You would shift and scare him for me?”
“Yes. At your instruction,” Enid nodded rapidly. “Anything you ask.”
“Hmm,” Wednesday pondered. “I suppose it would offer a fresh take on the torture. You would be fine with this?”
“Totes.”
“Then I shall take you up on your offer.”
That was how Enid ended up shifting, teeth-baring at Pugsley as she backed him into a coffin that weekend, Wednesday smiling over at her.
The next thing was her scent.
Wednesday felt incredibly itchy as she returned to her room from class. It was as if a million insects were crawling over her skin, like the feeling of wool clothing only even more abhorrent.
Cursing she showered and redressed in her softest clothing, but the itching persisted. Only growing as the minutes passed. Her nails scrubbed at her skin in annoyance, fumbling to loosen her collar. However, as she paced something caught her attention. Enid’s ghastly jumper sat there on the back of her chair. It was horrific, palatable to only the likes of Care Bears or Jojo Siwa, yet she found herself drawn to it.
The material felt soft and smelt comforting like the pool of blood that leaked from the boy who bullied Pugsley as the piranhas nipped at his never regions. The metallic tinge to the air was almost as satisfying as Enid’s smell.
She debated it for a while and sat on her bed, shoulders straight as she considered it. The jumper was ghastly and abhorrent, yet it called to her. Her fingers danced against her limbs as they scratched searching for relief from her discomfort until Wednesday finally gave up, pulling the jumper over her head.
The itching subsided immediately, the scent comforting as it surrounded her. Sighing, she curled up on her bed, choosing not to question her choice as she pulled out The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe.
“Are you wearing my jumper?” Enid entered their room an hour later, face twisted in confusion though a grin was also there. Taunting.
“I find it to be quite comfortable, even though the colours are vivid enough to down an aircraft or remind the elderly of the time they took questionably sourced psychedelics at Woodstock.”
“You like it.”
“I hate it,” she returned. “This jumper is the epitome of everything I stand against.”
“Then why are you wearing it?”
“Because I’m itchy, and for some reason, the material is soothing the annoyance of that problem.”
“You’re wearing my jumper,” Enid repeated.
“Is that a problem?”
“No.” She grinned. “Not at all.”
“Good. I shan’t wear it in public though. Far be it for the students here to get the idea that I’m personable.”
Enid crossed the room, pulling on a black jumper she had knitted for Wednesday. It had a white spiderweb cascading across each shoulder and a single spider on the left elbow. Though Enid was sure Thing appreciated it more than she did. Thing often used it as a sleeping mat.
“Why are you wearing that?”
“It’s cold,” Enid said. Though it wasn’t. In reality, Enid understood the signs of a soulmate missing her scent. As such she pulled on a jumper that she could leave her scent on, knowing Wednesday would wish to wear something of hers to class even if she didn’t understand why.
Wednesday watched her quietly, barely bobbing her chin in acceptance.
It spiralled from there.
“Would you like to go out sometime?” another wolf asked her at lunch, pushing his chestnut brown, floppy hair away from his eyes.
“Oooh,” Eugene cooed jokingly.
“I-” Enid swallowed awkwardly, letting out a nervous laugh. She was hardly one for saying no, in fact, Enid was normally so polite she ended up doing three people’s homework each week. The stack was becoming unbearable.
“No,” Wednesday said for her. “She’s busy.”
“I haven’t said what day yet,” Aiden laughed.
“Enid has too much to worry about without you taking up more of her precious time. May I suggest you look elsewhere?”
“What are you? Her guard dog?”
“Yes,” Wednesday replied coldly. “And when I bite, I rarely choose to leave limbs.” He walked backward, eyeing her warily. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“Like what?” Enid asked.
“Oddly. Like Pugsley when he finds an eye of newt.”
“Oh, I guess I’m just happy.”
“Happy?”
“The emotion that’s the opposite of sad. You’ll feel it someday Wes.”
“Don’t call me that. And how dare you suggest I’ll ever feel such horrors.”
Enid smiled anyway, taking a bite of her steak. Wednesday was jealous.
Wednesday figured it out on the day after a full moon.
Enid had shifted to hunt in the forests leaving her alone with the itchy feeling that returned in full force. As she migrated to Enid’s side of the room, burying her form beneath her sheets, she knew something was awfully wrong.
Wednesday was attached.
The moon went on for far too long, with tears threatening to fall that certainly weren’t the enjoyable kind brought forth by torture.
They were the product of something far more heinous.
Emotion.
She pulled the blanket taut around her, walking down the large spiral staircase bound in it. People shot her curious glances, laughter that she opted to ignore in its entirety.
Continuing she glanced around her, opening the door to the hidden library.
Whatever this was; Enid was responsible. A traitor perhaps, Wednesday should have known better than to trust someone who wore such a vast array of colours. Maybe it was the result of some form of poison.
Perhaps she was trying to kill her. Slowly.
Her hands trailed along the spines of aging texts; everything from botany to satanic rituals, poetry to science.
Werewolves, An Encyclopaedia of Tendencies and Traits
Perfect.
Wednesday instructed Thing to remain silent as they left, the hand crawling up the blanket and onto her head as she trawled back to her room. Thankfully her traitorous roommate was absent upon her return.
Symptoms and Powers
Her fingers scrolled past the expected: increased strength and endurance, appetite changes, pack mentality. Alpha standings had a whole chapter none of which was any help, then her hand stilled as she turned the page.
Soulmates and Fated Partners
Intriguing… likely not what she was looking for, but Wednesday had previously thought such things to be fables spun by humans with little understanding and overly emotional dreams.
Werewolves may mate with anyone. Though mates are most common among their own species, some wolves have been known to pair with humans, witches, and mermen to name but a few. Mating bonds bind the souls of two (or more in poly mates) together, beyond intervention. Meaning that both tied by the bond are at its will.
Bonds may cause:
Need for proximity,
Comfort found in their scent or belongings,
Heightened emotions,
Jealousy and conflict with potential threats.
The list went on. Wednesday felt nausea roiling in her stomach at the knowledge that all these things, oddly, seemed to fit.
Symptoms of bond denial include:
Emotional instability,
Itching or a buzzing under the skin,
Sickness,
Lack of sleep,
Possible death.
She held the book in a death grip, suddenly feeling like it was a dirty secret as she wedged it beneath her bed.
Enid was her soulmate. A soulmate? The fates were surely finding a sense of humour when it was least appreciated.
She stewed; sat there as she contemplated what on earth to do. Her hands trembled lightly, something they had never done prior. Wednesday did not do fear.
However, as Enid entered, pulling her snood from her face she knew she was aware of it. Enid pulled a knit jumper from her frame -one she had been wearing all day- passing it over to her. Sharing her scent.
“Did you ever intend on telling me that we are soulmates?”
Enid stilled, her smile dropping from her face as her chin lowered. “Wednesday-”
“Don’t. Would you have ever said?”
“No. Probably not.”
“Why not? Am I not what you wish for?”
“You’re fated to me. Of course you are everything to me.”
“Then why not tell me? Why not say a word about such things?”
“Because you like your bubble. I didn’t want to intrude on it.”
Wednesday stood, walking to stand in front of her as she eyed her features. Silently taking in each curve of a bone beneath. Her cheek, her jaw, her eyes. She sighed, holding out her hand.
“What are you doing?”
“This is what mates do, is it not? Hold hands?”
“But your bubble.”
“I’m not offering to kiss you. Maybe once in a blue moon when the darkness leaves me reckless, I may need of a reminder of how horrific such things are. But I suppose you can hold my hand, should you wish.”
Enid beamed as she laced her fingers through Wednesday’s. It brought her so much comfort that she leaned in, resting her cheek against Enid’s shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure. Though, I do feel more settled beside you like this. You smell like the first spill of blood on a winter's day”
“Thank you?”
“You’re welcome.”
“Would you like my jumper?”
“Please. The atrocious pink one, it’s softer.”