Wenclair One-Shots

Sweet, Sunny, Poison (Part 1)

Summary:

Enid Sinclair was poisonous.

That was the only explanation for how Wednesday felt. The metaphorical spiders crawling around in her stomach, the heat creeping across her face, and numbness of her sweaty palms.

All things that only happened to her when Enid was nearby.

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Enid Sinclair was poisonous.

That was the only explanation for how Wednesday felt. The metaphorical spiders crawling around in her stomach, the heat creeping across her face, and numbness of her sweaty palms.

All things that only happened to her when Enid was nearby.

Now, of course, Wednesday didn't believe the girl was intentionally poisoning her - not only did she believe Enid was incapable of performing such an act without her noticing, it was completely illogical. If she wanted Wednesday dead, she could have left her to die at the hands of the Hyde. The thought of that horrid creature crossing her mind left a phantom pain running through her gut, causing her eye to twitch very slightly. No, no it was much more likely this poisoning was unintentional in nature.

But how do you unintentionally poison someone? Wednesday knew, of course, much about the ways you could poison a human being - but none of them could be accomplished on accident, at least not without circumstances so extenuating she would be impressed by their occurrence once, much less every time the two girls met. If it was a substance she was carrying on her, certainly their room would inspire the same symptoms - and yet, phantoms of the symptoms would emerge only when she thought of the lycan, like a Pavlovian response. She chuckled to herself internally. Ironic.

So it must be the woman herself who was the toxin. Fascinating.

Wednesday was already seated at her desk - this was normally her writing time, but it had been commandeered into Investigation Time, as much as it pained her. It was the only time of day Enid could be bothered to stop following her around like a lost puppy, which was ever so important to the task at hand. Not that she minded the company these days, although she would rather string herself up by her cello strings than admit that to a living soul.

(Other than Thing, who was watching this entire series of events with great amusement regardless, and was already well aware of its master's proclivity for lost dogs, as it were.)

Wednesday went through the possible culprits in her mind. She supposed it could be her perfume - perhaps the dolt had bought some poisonous gas off of a man on the street. She would do something like that, after all, without a second thought. As incredibly funny as the idea was, (funny enough to make the otherwise soundless, motionless girl to blow air out her nose) others would also be suffering, and she was quite keenly tuned to the suffering of those around her. Ajax was the only person in her group of.... friends (she nearly gags at the thought) who had been suffering as of late, and while the cause was Enid, she doubted they separated because of toxic fumes.

So the poison was unique in affecting Wednesday. Perhaps another allergy to add to the list of the many she meticulously kept track of each day, avoiding at all costs.

An idea sprang fourth from Wednesday's mind like the goddess Athena from the godhead (although this metaphor would make her Zeus, which she would likely slay this writer in some indescribably awful way for implying). Hair dye contained numerous potential allergens, and remained in a tightly sealed container
Finally, a viable hypothesis that fit all of the criteria

Now, to test it.

Wednesday Addams did not half-ass anything, especially not the scientific method. She took both tubes of hair dye, pink and blue, out of their shared bathroom, and set them out on a table on the balcony, as well as several plates and her notebook. Obviously, to perform an experiment, one must have a control, so first she sat stock still, staring at the sealed bottles of Enid's dyes. Enid's eyes. She must admit, her roommate had every interesting eyes, a pale, almost grey blue. Like the sky with a thin layer of clouds over it, the end of a long, dark rainstorm that threatened to drown the coastline.

She jolted back to reality, flipping back to her page of symptoms and quickly scribbling: Loss of Focus, Easily Distracted. That absolutely could not stand. As with before, just thinking about Enid had heat playing across her face like she had just taken a warm bath, daddy long legs scurried within her stomach, and now she even felt a twitch at the corner of her mouth. Despicable.

Steeling her determination, she decided upon the blue dye first. Holding her breath, Wednesday gently squeezed the bottle, letting out the smallest, ideally easily missed drop of the bright, painfully blue substance drop onto the plate, like paint unto palette. She quickly tightly resealed the bottle, and, journal in hand, took a deep breath, waiting for the horrid feelings to return.

.
.
.

So. It was not the blue dye. That was acceptable, even. One of Enid's most palatable color choices, although she supposed that was quite like choosing a favorite bullet wound.

Onto the pink, Wednesday repeated the process once again, nearly vomiting at the sight of the neon pink dye. A truly horrid color, although she considers Enid wore it well. As well as one could wear anything Enid chose to decorate herself with. Beginning the experiment again in earnest, she took in a deep, long breath through her nose, being sure to get a dose of the frankly likely already damaging chemical smell of the dye.

Nothing.

This seemed unlikely. There was little else that could be causing this - she wasn't allergic to dogs, which she knew for a fact. She had quite the affection for Butcher, the Addams Family dog, although she supposed it wasn't an impossible candidate. She frowned, slightly, at the thought of it, before pushing it from her mind, not wishing to entertain the idea of an option she could not fix. Perhaps she simply needed another test. She grabbed one of the plates and held it up to her nose, preparing to smell again...

"Willa, what the fuck are you doing?"

Wednesday slowly turned her head to see Enid, the blonde standing in the doorway to the balcony, eyes wide and.... grinning? At the completely inexplicable display her roommate was in.

Wednesday gently put the plate back into the table. Laced her fingers together in her lap, and said, in the flattest tone humanly (or inhumanly) possible.

"Research."