｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Lilith

"What did the Sheriff mean about Gomez?" I ask Wednesday as I lop down on her bed, my mother's instructions in hand "It seemed personal and- aggressive."

"I don't know. Weems knows something but she's keeping her mouth shut." Wednesday declares as she drags her cello to the window. "She must know something."

I hum in consideration, flickering through the detailed instructions of each impossible task my mother set for me to be able to obtain my birth right.

"Instructions from your mother?"

"Indeed." I huff in annoyance, flicking them onto the bed. "Impossible as expected. Each one warrants loss of life to achieve it no doubt."

"She wants you to find an egg I presume." Wednesday states. "Your father was obsessed with it during his main crusade was he not? That would no doubt be his request."

I wave her off. "You forget he was forced to give up that dream in favour of politics. He can't be seen to be trying to reclaim actual dragons for our people."

"And yet you let my father hunt for an egg on your behalf." It's clear she's angry and upset. She's not as emotionless as she would argue, in fact her lack of emotion makes each feeling more obvious.

"You know I cannot change Gomez's mind. I have tried, Morticia has tried and I know you have as well. Whether you admit it or not." I shoot her a glare when she goes to protest. "You know he doesn't really search through temples and boggy marshes, he's trying to reclaim the stolen eggs. They are the greatest slight to my people after all. An egg in a nest laid by mother with care is one thing. Eggs stolen as trophies and displayed in glass cases as if we did not love them as our children are another."

"Come give me a hand with this cello." Wednesday ignores my previous statement as she does most. "Thing is on the desk."

I let out a little squeal of glee, rushing to the little appendage I so love and haven't had a chance to properly greet. He waves in greeting as well but darts away when I go to pick him up. He hates when I touch him. My scent marking is too much for him. He favours hand creams.

Someone just entered one of the old dragon nests beneath the school.

I pause in curiosity at the little flame's words. I forgot they were there actually, Weemes had mentioned them in her letter to the Addams upon my application but they were of no use to me considering I have no mate or eggs to care for there. Nor a dragon body to appreciate the safety and nostalgia a nest would provide.

Thing patters over to Wednesday helping her move the large instrument out the window while I hang back and curl a hand through the flame lighting the brazier on the wall.

"You're right that they wish for me to reclaim an egg as a part of my trials, that is being classed as the long term one. The one that separates me from those who manage to complete most of their basic level tasks to get into our kingdom as adults." I dramatically bemoan. "But they have ensured I have the hardest tasks to restore some of our honour."

I trail after Wednesday, carrying out her music book for her.

"How riveting, can you grab the music stand as well." Wednesday calls and a flicker of hurt flares in my chest at her dismissal. Why can't she bring herself to hear my problems when she's always been happy to share her own? I know she cares for me, shows it in a different way than I do but- but I see the way she can make friends and listen to people. Yet she won't do the same for her sister.

I find it childish when she blames all of it on her being an Agnostos. Which is hard because her being an outcast is due to her oddities, to her favoured subjects and struggles with human communication. But why must she pick and choose when to care for others- when to care for me.

Thing taps against the floor to catch my attention. She cares more for the appendage. I think it's because he can't talk so he communicates in a different way, like Wednesday can't communicate how she feels like we do so she does so in her own way. I wish I could understand their language. Understand my sister.

"Do you want me to stay while you practise or shall I go?" I question, hoping she'll ask me to-

"You can go, I need to think and blow off some steam without any distraction." Her voice is monotone as I set up the stand in front of her and Thing take the music from my hand.

"Okay." I force a brightness I don't feel into my voice. "I'll see you tomorrow then, don't stay up too late."

I ignore the hollow feeling in my chest as I walk to my room in silence, not even the whispered words of comfort from the flickering flames lining the hallway brings me comfort. Why do I continue to expect Wednesday to conform to my standards? Why do I keep hoping she'll react the way I want her too.

I shake my head in disappointment, fighting back tears as I open the door to my room and swiftly lock it behind me. I descend down the curved stairs, one hand brushing along the wall as I take in the stars from the large widows encased by my now fuller bookshelves. I have far too many books.

Time slips by me as I organise the three bookshelves into 'reading for fun', 'academic reading, biographies and guides' and 'spellbooks, textbooks, forbidden books'. It works well enough as a distraction and my arms begin to tire by the time the moon rises.

Once the last of the books is shelved I pivot in place, folding up the last moving box as I do so. Surely there's something else I can do. I can feel the fire itching beneath my skin and the silence begins to get to me. It's like I can hear the crackle of the flames.

The flickers of orange and yellow dancing and shifting in gentle waves, each ribbon of silk reaching for the sky as the wood simmers and burns. The gentle crackle and pops sending bursts of embers floating into the skies. The small fireworks so close you could touch but their light burns out in seconds, the little fireflies dying out. The sound builds, the fire flickering and racing, convulsing over itself in rippling waves as it consumes log after log, the snaps and breaks louder and echoing as the fire comes to life.

A smile drifts onto my face as I begin to calm, the worries of the day floating away as the fire builds and builds. There's no need to worry after the murders, or Wednesday or Xavier, all I need is the comfort of flames and I'll be fine.

I slowly drift up the staircase, hand dancing along the bannister as a line of fire races along after my hand. The fire roars, building to a crescendo as I enter my room and lay down on the bed. The fire rages and building, consuming all in its path and I drift off to sleep with thoughts of roaring flames.