Full of Woe

Wednesday’s knife lowered slightly in disappointment when her teacher spotted her. She was too exposed. She knew her error without being told. 

Shadows. We live in the shadows. Blend with the light.

When her mentor put her finger to her lips, she felt a sudden shift in their training. Noise had not been her downfall, not this time. Perhaps she was tired of this training and needed another way to teach her.

Very well.

She followed her mentor down the passageway, careful to stay silent as she moved. When she saw her start to climb, she understood. She needed this practice as well because there were sure to be times it would be needed to find and eliminate a target.

She sheathed her knife and followed after the red woman. 

Natasha skimmed lightly across the rooftop, her eyes roving as she sought out the best path.  She kept a small fraction of focus behind her to listen to Wednesday’s muffled sounds of pursuit.  The girl seemed to be coping well with the abrupt change in plan.

Worry snarled another fraction of her focus, and the woman let her thoughts wander to possibilities.  To tell the girl?  But she would be frightened, and fear can lead to mistakes and regret.  To keep the secret?  She would begin to wonder, to question, perhaps to distrust.  Trust is an important thing to keep, but is not the lesson to trust no one?

She dies, or we both die.

Natasha took another step back, her eyes lowered as she listened for any sign of movement from the other side of the door.  ‘Arranging it’ meant elaborate, if Wednesday’s family was to be deceived, it would require a noisy, visible death, enough mutilation to make a simple assassination look like -

Her stomach turned and her jaw clenched.

No.  No, not to one of hers.  Death was easy enough, all men must, but in return for no crime, performed for no price, to save the face of the Faceless.  No.

Her gaze flicked upwards and she locked eyes with the girl.  Well done, flickered through the back of her mind, a moment of distraction and complete silence.  Very well done.

She held the look only for a moment, a split second decision suddenly concrete in her mind.  Her finger rose to her lips, indicating complete silence, and she drifted away from the wall, turned, and ran.

Reaching the end of the passageway took only seconds, she would follow, she must, onto the overlook and steady a hop to the rail, straighten and reach for the carvings below the cornice, find a foothold, pull.  The girl’s climbing skills needed practice, anyway…

Wednesday’s knife lowered slightly in disappointment when her teacher spotted her. She was too exposed. She knew her error without being told. 

Shadows. We live in the shadows. Blend with the light.

When her mentor put her finger to her lips, she felt a sudden shift in their training. Noise had not been her downfall, not this time. Perhaps she was tired of this training and needed another way to teach her.

Very well.

She followed her mentor down the passageway, careful to stay silent as she moved. When she saw her start to climb, she understood. She needed this practice as well because there were sure to be times it would be needed to find and eliminate a target.

At the top, she stepped through the passage and out onto the walkway encircling the courtyard.  There was no visible sign of Wednesday, and Natasha kept moving.  The walkway would be expected - there were two rooms opening off the passage above the stairs, both essentially dead ends.  Another passage lay ahead, dim in the shade, and ending in the railed overlook on the outside corner of the building.  Two doors opened from it, two more dead ends.  Beyond the passage, the walkway made the sharp right turn towards the tower in the center.  More doors.

Natasha chose, and turned down the passage.  Over the railing and up the ornate carvings to the roof would be simple enough, and test the girl’s climbing skills.  Hovering in the shadows along the wall, she moved silently, listening.  Her ears caught voices and she paused.  The door on the left.  Business conducted behind closed doors was not unusual, but - she cast half a glance over her shoulder.  Neither sight nor sound of Wednesday.  Better not to have your back to an empty hall, so she stepped past the door and turned, her back to the wall and her ear close to the joint of the hinge.  A shadow of a frown crossed her face.  She knew that voice.

“For her to stay will be trouble.  They will be persistent, and not silent, and much attention will be drawn.”

“Our purpose is no secret, we are well-known.”

“We are Faceless for a reason.  She cannot stay, and she has been here too long to return.  She must be killed.”

“Killing the daughter may not silence the parents.”

“It is a long and dangerous journey.  Accidents and raids are common, they can make no complaint.  The Red Woman will arrange it.”

When she felt as though she was getting close, she paused to remember all of her teachings. Soft steps. Blend with the light. Quiet breathing. She started to approach where she thought Natasha would be again, her knife at the ready. 

starter  |  @wednesdayfaddams

The sun beat down and the red-haired woman closed her eyes.  She basked for a moment, enjoying the heat, and listening.  Her ears caught just a whisper of leather against stone.  There.  Good.  And then…  Oh, gods.

Natasha spun, delivering a sharp slap to the top of the girl’s head.  “Keep your defenses up, you must be prepared.  I could’ve cut your throat by now.  Your footwork is good, much softer, but if you’re going to assassinate me, try not to breathe like a sow in heat.”  She almost smiled, and waved a hand.  “Go.  Again.”

When her instructor moved in a scarlet blur, she knew she’d failed. The slap on top of her head confirmed this. She gave a controlled sigh and lowered the knife. For her, it was almost an emotional outburst. She quickly composed herself and considered how to execute the corrections she would need. She watched her instructor dissolve into shadows once again. 

This time. She would get her this time.

Bruce wasn’t sure what to make of the little girl. Most children were more animated, but she didn’t seem to be scared and he didn’t see any of the other tell tale signs of abuse he knew too well. Her response to his question only answered exactly what he asked and didn’t offer further information which he found interesting.

He was taken aback by her question and the phrasing was odd. “I didn’t come here to cause trouble,” he said trying to be reassuring. “Or to steal anything. I just, um, I keep on the road and there was a problem. I was running away from it and happened to find myself here.” It was the truth for the most part. He did leave out the bit where he was big and green for most of that running. That only caused problems and he’d really like to get some clothes if he could before having to move again.

Wednesday looked at Bruce for a long moment and then continued. “Of course not,” she stated as if it were obvious. “You would not have changed back if that had been your intent.” She wasn’t sure why he thought she was concerned about such things. He was a terrible thief to let her see both sides of him and hear him so clearly. If he was a thief, he would know of her family. He would also know that if he harmed her, her father would stop at nothing to bury him in pieces all around the estate. “Besides, most thieves would know where they are before trying to rob it.”

Bruce thought the child was a little odd. Her affect was flat and calm which wasn’t usually how people reacted to suddenly seeing a half-naked stranger on their property. Obviously she hadn’t seen the Other Guy or her reaction most likely would have been very different.

“I’ll follow you,” he said getting up. His progress would probably be a little slow at first and he wouldn’t be much help having to use one hand to hold his pants up. If he got moving he hoped that it would get his brain in gear. “Do you gather mushrooms often?” he asked. “At night.” Even though it was on the grounds of an estate there were probably snakes or other things to worry about. Not to mention the fact that he might not have been the only person that has gotten on the grounds before.

Wednesday nodded and waited patiently for the man to gather up his pants. When he started to move, she turned and made her way towards the garden. She walked slowly, feeling no need to rush either of them.

“No,” she answered Bruce. “Once a month is all,” she looked up at the bright, full moon and then to Bruce. He clearly wasn’t some kind of lycanthrope. Because she had answered his question, she felt it was her turn to ask one. 

@startlingmetamorphosis

Wednesday had finished her homework so Grandmama had sent her to gather mushrooms from the garden by the swamp. She didn’t mind the walk. It was cold and damp and the ground started to seep as she stepped. It was a dreary night for tending the garden.

She saw the man when she rounded a corner and she stopped and stared at his back. He was tall, taller than Lurch and green. She considered him while he seemed to be preoccupied in finding a comfortable place to lay down and relax. 

She continued to watch him as he lay on the ground. She was unsure if she should approach or not until the most interesting thing that had happened to her all month happened. He started to shrink. She walked towards him at this point, wondering what he would become and was slightly disappointed when he stopped shrinking and looked like a normal man. Two arms, two legs, a head. She sighed. He wasn’t even green anymore. 

When Bruce came back to himself he saw that he was in a swamp of some kind.  He wondered how far the Hulk ran to find a quiet, safe place.  It took a few minutes for the disorientation to fade.  His mind felt jagged like his brain had been put through a blender.  There were vague flashes of memory though they were mostly too garbled by emotions for him to really get anything out of.  He hoped the lack of blood on his hands and clothes meant the men that attacked him survived.  It might seem like an odd thought, but it was just how he was.

"You are on my family's estate," she told him, her voice the same, passive calm as her face. "I have to gather mushrooms, but I can lead you to the house afterwards," she told him.

Always be kind to strangers. You many never know when you look upon the face of an enemy.