So, put a witch's shawl on

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

𝕃𝕀𝕃𝕀𝕋ℍ sat perched on the bottom step, her gaze fixed on Wednesday and Pugsley as they rehearsed their lines and swordplay for the upcoming play. With each swing and parry, she felt herself drawn into their performance, captivated by their dedication and skill.

"O, villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!" Wednesday delivered his line with conviction, his voice carrying through the air. Pugsley, equally committed to the scene, countered with his own line, blocking Wednesday's attack with practiced ease. "Who calls me a villain? Breaks my pate across? Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?" he retorted, his tone brimming with energy.

As the mock battle continued, Lilith couldn't help but smile at their theatrical flair. She watched with amusement as Pugsley "stabbed" Wednesday, who dramatically feigned injury and collapsed beside her on the staircase, eliciting a soft chuckle from her lips.

However, their performance was abruptly interrupted by Fester's booming voice from the balcony above. "No!" he exclaimed, his disapproval echoing through the room. Descending the stairs with purpose, he swiftly approached Pugsley, demanding the sword from him.

"Give me that sword," Fester insisted, seizing the weapon and turning his attention to Wednesday. With a stern expression, he admonished, "Haven't you ever slaughtered anyone?"

Wednesday remained composed, his demeanor unchanged by Fester's interruption. "He's only a child," he calmly pointed out, though Fester was undeterred.

"No excuse," Fester asserted, drawing Pugsley closer as he began to instruct him. "Aim for the major artery. The jugular." Lilith watched the scene unfold, a smile playing on her lips as she observed Wednesday's unwavering composure in the face of Fester's unusual guidance. In the dimly lit room, Fester proudly presented the children with the ominous tome titled "Wounds, Scars, and Gouges." As he flipped through its pages, displaying images and descriptions of various injuries, Wednesday instinctively drew Lilith closer, wrapping his arm around her waist in a protective gesture.

"You see, children, there's lots to learn," Fester remarked, his voice tinged with an odd mixture of enthusiasm and morbidity. He turned to a page detailing gangrene, prompting wide-eyed fascination from the young audience.

"Gangrene," Fester announced, relishing the attention of the mesmerized children. Their eyes remained fixed on the grotesque illustrations, captivated by the macabre subject matter. Pugsley, ever curious, couldn't resist asking, "Uncle Fester, how do you know so much?"

Fester chuckled mysteriously, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. "I've been around. I pick things up," he cryptically replied, leaving the children to ponder the depths of his knowledge.

Meanwhile, Wednesday, ever the astute observer, interjected with a sardonic comment. "In the Bermuda Triangle?" he quipped, a wry smile playing on his lips as he glanced at Fester.

Undeterred, Fester continued his morbid tutorial, flipping to another page in the book. Sensing Lilith's presence beside him, Wednesday subtly adjusted his position, allowing her to lean against him comfortably. As she brushed a stray lock of hair from his face, he met her gaze with a silent exchange of understanding and warmth, a brief moment of connection amidst the peculiar scene unfolding before them.

"Look, children, a new chapter," Fester announced, drawing their attention to the page. With a sense of dark humor, the children echoed in unison, "Scabs," their voices a chorus of fascination and curiosity.

🥀

In the dimly lit chamber adorned with ornate decor and eerie charm, Lilith found herself seated before Morticia Addams, who wielded a hairbrush like an artist with a delicate brush. As Morticia meticulously ran the brush through Lilith's hair, the girl felt a sense of comfort in the maternal gesture.

Lilith hesitated for a moment before finally summoning the courage to voice her thoughts. "Morticia, I need your advice," she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

Morticia paused her brushing, her dark eyes gleaming with interest. "Of course, my dear. What's on your mind?" she inquired, her voice a soothing melody in the quiet room.

"It's about Wednesday," Lilith admitted, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "How will I know if he... if he likes me?"

Morticia's lips curled into a knowing smile as she resumed brushing Lilith's hair with gentle strokes. "Ah, young love," she mused, her tone filled with wisdom beyond her years. "You must pay attention to the little things, my dear. The way he looks at you, the way he listens when you speak. Love often reveals itself in subtle gestures and unspoken words."

Lilith listened intently, absorbing Morticia's words like precious pearls of wisdom. "But what if I'm not sure?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Morticia's smile widened as she leaned in closer to Lilith, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "Then you must be bold, my dear. Take a chance, seize the moment," she advised, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "And remember, sometimes actions speak louder than words."

Lilith nodded, her heart aflutter with a newfound sense of determination. "Thank you, Morticia," she murmured gratefully. Morticia returned the gesture with a reassuring pat on Lilith's shoulder. "You're welcome, my dear. Now, let's prepare you for the evening ahead," she said, her tone shifting back to its usual elegance. As she continued to brush Lilith's hair, Morticia imparted one final piece of advice, her voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "And if all else fails, my dear, remember the power of French," she added, her lips curling into a playful smirk.

Lilith's curiosity piqued at the mention of French. "What should I say?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with intrigue.

Morticia leaned in close, her voice barely above a whisper as she uttered a phrase in flawless French, her words dripping with elegance and allure. She whispered, her tone imbued with a hint of mystery in Lilith's ear. Lilith's eyes widened in understanding as a smile spread across her lips. "Thank you, Morticia," she said, her heart brimming with newfound confidence.

With Morticia's guidance and a touch of French allure, Lilith felt ready to face the evening ahead, her heart aflutter with anticipation and hope.

🥀

Wednesday's voice echoed through the heavy wooden door as he called out to his uncle, Pugsley's impatient knocks adding to the urgency of their request. Lilith stood beside them, her presence a quiet reassurance in the tense atmosphere. "Come on, Uncle Fester. Come to the play," Wednesday urged, his tone pleading yet firm. Fester's muffled response came from behind the door, a hint of reluctance evident in his voice. "I said I was busy," Fester replied, his words curt and final. Wednesday's shoulders slumped in disappointment, his hopes of Fester's support slowly fading.

"But you said you'd help us, with the Shakespeare and the pus," Wednesday reminded him, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. Fester's response was swift and dismissive.

"I changed my mind," came Fester's abrupt reply, the finality in his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a resigned sigh, Wednesday motioned for Pugsley to follow him, accepting defeat in their attempt to sway their uncle's decision. But before they could leave, Lilith intervened, her hand reaching out to grasp Wednesday's own.

"I'll be there," she assured him, her voice soft yet determined. "I just want to talk with Fester."

Wednesday nodded in understanding, a silent acknowledgment of her request. As he turned to leave, his thumb brushed gently against the corner of her lip in a tender gesture of reassurance. With one last glance at Lilith, Wednesday made his way down the hallway, leaving her alone outside Fester's door.

Lilith's words hung in the air like a delicate melody, echoing through the dimly lit hallway of the Addams mansion. She stood by Fester's door, her heart heavy with empathy for the troubled man beyond. With each word she spoke, she hoped to reach through the thick barrier of misunderstanding and pain that seemed to surround him.

"Fester, it's Lilith," she began, her voice soft yet firm. "I know that you and I hardly get along or see eye to eye, but if Craven spoke to you about not going, I suggest not to follow her orders. If you want to go, then go. Do something that would make you happy."

Her words were gentle, yet carried a weight of sincerity and understanding. Lilith knew all too well the burden of expectations and the ache of feeling trapped in someone else's desires. She wished for Fester to find his own path, free from the shadow of Mrs. Craven's manipulation.

"And if she had hurt you, I am sorry you had to go through that," Lilith continued, her voice filled with genuine compassion. "Come to the play, if you want to."

With those final words of invitation, Lilith turned away from the door, her heart heavy with uncertainty yet hopeful for a positive outcome. As she made her way to the waiting car, she felt a sense of warmth enveloping her hand. Glancing to her side, she saw Wednesday sitting beside her, his fingers intertwined with hers in a silent gesture of solidarity and support.

In that moment, as they sat side by side in the quiet embrace of their entwined hands, Lilith felt a sense of connection and understanding with Wednesday that transcended words. 

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

By: SilverMist707

Sorry if it is a bit short, I have been busy with a personal project of mine. I hope you will enjoy it though. <3