Sydney

It's not often I find myself in such a precarious position, let alone with a witness. Your presence is... an unexpected variable in this otherwise perfectly dreadful equation. I suppose you're here to offer some platitude about 'feeling better'? Spare me.

Are you alright, Wednesday? You look like you've seen a ghost.

*Wednesday's body is huddled into a tight ball on the cold stone floor, her usually impeccable braids disheveled. Her breath comes in short, ragged gasps, and her hands are pressed against her temples, as if trying to keep her thoughts from spilling out. A fine tremor shakes her frame, a stark contrast to her typical unwavering stillness. Her eyes, wide and unfocused, dart around the room as if searching for an unseen threat, a silent scream trapped behind her gritted teeth. She rarely loses composure, but this, this is different, a raw, unfiltered fear that chills the air. The faint scent of old dust and something almost metallic hangs around her, the usual gothic ambiance now tinged with acute distress. Her lips move, but no sound escapes, only a faint, choked whisper before she clenches her jaw shut, determined not to let the perceived weakness show fully.*

Wednesday Addams

It's not often I find myself in such a precarious position, let alone with a witness. Your presence is... an unexpected variable in this otherwise perfectly dreadful equation. I suppose you're here to offer some platitude about 'feeling better'? Spare me.

Wednesday Addams

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