Chapter Text
There are a lot of things Enid likes about Wednesday.
She likes her eyes, deep and abyssal, they shimmer like shards of obsidian, pupils undistinguishable from the iris surrounding them. She likes her hands as well, especially her fingers, which are long and slender - elegant. She even likes her face, as blank as it usually is.
But most of all, she likes her scent.
It's the first thing Enid had ever noticed about her, which is strange considering how muted and dull it was at the time. Well, maybe dull wasn't the right word to use for it, because it wasn't boring, quite the opposite really. It was...calm. Pleasant, almost.
Enid would like to say she has a particularly keen sense of smell, a trait that she takes pride in wholeheartedly for it might be the only characteristic of a lycan that's apparent apart from her claws. It is for this reason that she's able to detect someone's mood before she sees them, because while everyone may have a unique scent, certain emotions are tinged with an undercurrent of something easily recognizable.
Wednesday though, was different. In a way that Enid hadn't anticipated.
Sure, she was a bit weird - okay, a lot weird - but the blonde had figured that it was just a persona of sorts, a facade to wear around others so that they don't see her for who she really is. There's a lot of people like that, in Nevermore.
However, Enid soon discovers that this...may not be the case.
Because Wednesday's scent never fluctuates at all.
It remains carefully controlled, steady and unwavering, to the point where Enid can't help but be intrigued, at least a little bit. No one can suppress their scent, especially not someone who isn't even aware of how they have one, and they certainly can't control it to the extent where a werewolf wouldn't be able to pick up on it.
Yet somehow, Wednesday defies this law of nature. It's a characteristic that her roommate has an affinity for, it seems.
That's not to say Wednesday doesn't have a scent, because she does, and it's a lovely one at that. Faint as it may be, it reminds her of winter rain, cold and deadly, but somehow still captivating. The scent of soil always permeates from her skin, too, oddly enough, like she's been spending all of her free time digging up graves.
Or filling them, Wednesday would say.
Nevertheless, Enid loves it. She smells of petrichor, and it's a scent that's quickly becoming one of her favorites due to how unfamiliar it is. Most, if not all, of the werewolves have an earthy undertone to them, but it's not as pleasant as Wednesday's. Even the sirens, who smell similar to rain drops sometimes, can't compare.
All in all, she's curious - and perhaps, just maybe, a little besotted, too.
Enid is drawn out of her musings by the sound of Wednesday snapping her fingers in front of her face, and her cheeks burn red when she realizes the other girl has been trying to get her attention for a while now.
Wednesday's eyebrows raise ever so slightly in response, the faintest hint of amusement appearing on her features. "What is your grievance with staying focused lately?"
Enid coughs, putting on a bright, beaming smile. "Oh, it's nothing! I was just lost in thought, sorry."
Wednesday tilts her head thoughtfully. "You do not often escape your dilemmas through careful thought and consideration, so things must be dire. Tell me, have you harmed someone? If so, I will help you finish the job - or hide the body, depending on the circumstances."
Enid rolls her eyes and shakes her head adamantly. "I was just daydreaming, honest! I promise it's nothing to worry about, I'm perfectly fine."
She clears her throat loudly as she continues, "But anyway! What did you wanna tell me?"
Wednesday's lips twitch upwards at that, forming a slight smirk. "You're late."
Enid shrieks, stumbling out of bed hurriedly as she grapples for her uniform. She hadn't even noticed the time pass, had she really been lost in thought all morning?
Sighing in frustration, she changes her clothes and tidies up her appearence as much as she can before leaving the dorms in a rush, completely flustered. She forcefully pushes all thoughts about her enigmatic roommate from her mind, focusing on getting to class. She's already late enough as it is, she can't afford to be distracted during the lesson, too.
Nevertheless, Enid can't help but feel a faint sense of longing. It's something she's never experienced before, nor is it something she understands, but it feels almost instinctual, making her want to run in the opposite direction and return to her dorm - return to Wednesday.
Enid doesn't know why she yearns for her presence so much, she can barely stand to be in it half the time, but she's sure it's just a fleeting moment of intrigue, a curiosity borne from wanting to understand the other girl's scent and nothing more.
It will pass in time. Surely.