Wednesday (One Shots and Imagines)

Ferry {Wednesday x Male Reader}

Walls of stone reverberate the gutteral hum of the bioluminescent green leaves- each leaf pitching and casting light in alternating patterns like fireflies in a lush meadow. The glowing bushes looked unkept and full of life, left to strive despite its obvious designated outcropping it resided to along the pathway- a pathway Wednesday found herself awakening opon.

She wasn't exactly sure where she was, why she was there, or why the ivy green leaves of the humming plants were all watching her like snake heads, but she couldn't deny their eerie beauty.

The ground beneath her palms was smooth, and it looked like some sort of polished, black marble- and it was seemingly frictionless as she pushed herself up into a seated position, and then onto her feet- those leaves following her every move.

With the green flickering plants lighting this strange place, she looked down either side of this hallway she woke up in. Both ends- ahead and behind- looked as though they might never end- and the ceiling arched like that of a catacomb or dungeon tunnel. The walls were much the same, with tidy stone carvings of symbols unknown to her. Upon further observation, she realized there were no windows in sight- no possible way for these bizarre bushes to get the nutrient sunlight they surely needed. She would be lying if she said she wasn't fascinated.

With one last look in either direction, she set on heading forward as her bare feet pushed off the marbled floor, white-green eyes watching as she wandered. Wednesday would have guessed she had been walking down this identical hallway for half an hour, at least, and yet she seemed to be no further along than where she had woken up. If she'd had her watch, she would have checked, but it seemed she didn't have her usual wrist wear- in fact, she was certain that even the clothes she donned were not her own. Sure they were mono-coloured in black and loose as she often prefers. But she certainly didn't recall owning such clothes, what seemed to be a long black linen shirt and free flowing charcoal pants.

Wednesday found herself at a loss. She might have been walking in circles or not moving at all on the slick flooring. These clothes might well have been hers but she had no recollection of owning them. It wasn't often that Wednesday felt panicked, but this instance was one such rarity.

In a mix of frustration and defeat, she huffed and sat on the floor. There seemed to be little use in rushing around when she didn't feel like she was getting anywhere. She opted for a new approach. Patience. Yes, Patience. These halls were built by somebody and built for a reason. Surely some form of solution would come along eventually. She just hoped she wouldn't starve to death by then.

Wednesday was left waiting. And waiting. And waiting. With knees pulled to her chest, and chin on her knees. She attempted to count how many minutes, hours or even days had passed- and she couldn't place her finger on any number. All she knew was the sound of gutteral humming emitted by the plants was beginning to get on her nerves.

At some point, echoing of footsteps began to sound down the tunnel. Wednesday, startled by the nearing approach, scrambled to her feet and faced the direction they came from. Again, she waited. The steps got louder, like a hard soled shoe clanging down an empty chamber. So loud that she was certain the source of these sounds were right before her, and yet she saw nobody. The footsteps stopped. The long tunnel was unchanged and she was alone. She swiped an arm in front of her. Nothing. Not even a whisper of a breeze.

"Excuse me." A man's voice called out.

Tense, Wednesday narrowed her eyes to see down the hallway. She saw nothing but the unending tunnel and those same eerie, ever observing bushes.

"Behind you." The voice spoke up once again, this time, softer. Lower.

Slowly turning, the pale girl found a boy with a broad frame standing behind her. With narrowed brows, Wednesday observed him. He was handsome- at least, by what she believed- though by her estimations she couldn't decide if he was above or below the threshold of 20 years of age. His face was... Illusive in that sense. The figure was smartly dressed in some kind of dark clothing that somewhat resembled a suit, though it was long and flowy, but not oversized. And in his arms, open, he cradled a large book, bound in leather that looked older than the very tunnel she had been wandering about in for who knows how long. She watched with a narrowed gaze.