Wenclair One-Shots

A New Year

Summary:

It's New Years Eve and Wednesday is feeling murderous.... well, more so than usual.

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If looks could kill, Wednesday supposed, she would absolutely be a serial killer.

Well.

More of one.

Although, she thought; sipping her drink as she glared out at the party around her, killing everyone in the room would constitute mass murder rather than serial killing.

But either way, there'd be a lot of very dead nuisances.

And Enid.

And maybe Yoko because Enid would be all mopey if she lost her friend, or if her friend was sad because her girlfriend was dead. So that meant Divina surviving as well.

The point being, if looks could kill (And if any could it would be Wednesday's) there would be a rather impressive stack of corpses, the ones who survived would only be spared because of Enid.

Not wanting to deal with a moody Enid of course, not genuine concern over her feelings.

It was incredibly hypocritical, Wednesday admitted, that the only sure survivor of the massacre which she was planning in her mind, was the one who had put her in an even more murderous mood than usual.

Enid was insufferable, demanding, intense and overly involved, but, largely, Wednesday had, slowly and resentfully, begun to appreciate the exorbitant amount of space which her roommate took up in her life.

However this, what she had done tonight, was beyond the ability of even the most spineless God to forgive.

Not the dragging Wednesday to an asinine party marking an inconsequential anniversary which only existed because two thousand years ago someone was bored of maintaining the calendar, no that was, of course, an extreme irritant but was almost remedied by seeing Enid's grating excitement, and would be further addressed in due time in the usual fashion of leaving some delightfully horrific photographs laying around their room to terrify Enid.

How someone who routinely transformed into a terrifying, savage, and all together beautiful monster and who had beaten a victim into a bloody pulp could be unnerved so much by some still images, Wednesday would never understand, but it provided a convenient form of revenge.

And if that revenge leads to a nightmare-stricken Enid, sheepishly asking to sleep in Wednesday's bed... well that was an unavoidable cost of her scheme.

No, while Wednesday definitely harbored a certain amount of resentment for being forced to attend this pitiful excuse for a soiree (There wasn't even a sacrificial goat for the love of endless oblivion) that was not why Wednesday was plotting a series of gruesome murders, starting with the people closest to Enid.

It was the same thing which had the customarily hyper focused author finding her gaze dragged back to her friend, sending uncomfortably acute waves of anger, hope and resentment running through her mind.