Wenclair One-Shots

How You'll Be Remembered.

Summary:

Wednesday gets badly injured and has to come to terms with her feelings (romantic and humanity) while Enid plays doctor.

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"Jesus, what happened to you?!"

Wednesday winces at the influx of light assaulting her throbbing head, dropping her bag to the floor to shield her eyes. They snap comically wide when a warm hand wraps around her bloodied forearm, groaning at the searing heat from the wound that sends hairpin trigger shots of lightning up her spine. It feels as though every nerve in her body is being decompressed all at once, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

Grits her teeth, inhaling sharply. "Nothing. Just a little scrape."

She gently pulls her arm out of Enid's grip, going to walk around her. Enid stops her with a firm tug on the waist of her coat, and she's helpless as her feet stutter backward on the wood.

"A little scrape? I can see your bone!"
Enid says lowly, pulling Wednesday's arm back into her grip with a tenderness that her eyes do no carry. She looks furious, eyes ping-ponging across the eaten up flesh in a desperate twist of ochre and blue.

The other girl inclines her head, feeling something light in her chest. It's almost like the golden hour of day kissing the sea's surface, and it's harrowing.

Wednesday sighs in resignation to the attentiveness of her roommate, tilting her head back when a wave of dizziness makes itself present, crawling from the throbbing base of her skull and streaking to her aching temples.

She'd just returned to the dorm- the clock had hit 3 am when she'd attempted sneaking back into the room. Of course, Enid was acutely aware of even the slightest sound like a feather falling on a cloud, and had appeared at her side before she'd even had the door shut properly behind her.

She truly hadn't anticipated the fact Thornhill might go all "Home Alone" on her family house, booby traps that were far too advanced for even Wednesday to disarm. Most of them had been easy enough to dismantle or avoid, but as she ventured deeper into the dark catacomb of a building, she'd found herself with her skull bouncing off the bottom of a snake pit. Having to defend herself from the venomous reptiles with her hands and feet alone took up more of her energy and concentration then she had to spare, and was left at a disadvantage clamouring up the moldy and decrepit grave of dead snakes, and along the hall to her final destination.

Her first mistake, was even allowing herself to fall into the Punji trap of nocturnal ambush predators in the first place. The second, not noticing the artillery that had carved its path into her flesh.

When untying the snarled up snood from the handle, she was so disoriented from the head injury and overexertion of feeble muscles- (mentally promising to train with Xavier at a later date)- that she hadn't realized the the caltrop had been triggered.

All she could really remember was the excruciating feeling of metal splitting open her arm, cinching its spike deep within her muscle tissue. She'd seen the tear in her coat and the rusted tip of the spike, soaked with her blood but hadn't anticipated the severity of it.

Enid used her claw to remove the jacket from the elbow down, gasping at the sight of 3 inches of weaponry lodged into pale skin.

Even Wednesday's nose scrunches at the scent of festering flesh, it nearly choking her from the thickness of it. Some of the fabric was lodged into the open skin, crusted with blood and pus. The iron caltrop must have had some form of poison on it- the skin was eating away at itself to expose more and more of the quickly paling hypodermis with every passing moment.