"Good 'morrow, my Nevermore kin. I am mistress Arlene, a real OC." Said the red-haired woman dressed in Pilgrim clothes. Her actions looked theatric, an act. It's almost insulting. "Original Colonist."
'How… phoney.' Thought Adam as he listened to the woman talk. "Now, prithee, put your cell phones on vibrate and make haste, for you are about to travel back in time to the year of our Lord 1625, to Jericho's first Pilgrim settlement."
The woman stepped to the side, positioning herself in front of two old, decrepit buildings. "Behold, the meeting house. Inside is a collection of artifacts related to Jericho's most beloved and pious founder, Joseph Crackstone."
She turned to the other building, better-looking, most probably renovated. "And beyond is our privy, America's first gender-neutral restroom." This building's packed, filled with people dressed in similar costumes as mistress Arlene. Men in black, similar clothes but with pants, wearing awful-looking hats. While the women were dressed in skirts reaching their ankles.
Both buildings looked old, but not like Nevermore's towers. It looked old on purpose rather than with the passage of time. Even with Adam's little knowledge of engineering, he could deduce that it's probably a fake, an imitation of an actual old building.
As he was observing, Wednesday stepped forward from beside him. "I haveth a query." She said, in an unusually interested tone unbefitting of her expressionless face. "Pray be quick, child!" Mistress Arlene replied.
"In the meeting house, which of Joseph Crackstone's artifacts are on display?" Mistress Arlene smiled proudly. "It is truly a treasure trove, including original farm tools, tableware, even the Crackstone family chamber pot."
Deeds do wonders to one's legacies, including having your personal chamber pot be on display in public. Adam chuckled internally. What would this Joseph Crackstone think of this?
"Sounds fascinating. I volunteer to work in there." Wednesday replied, readying herself to go. "Pray, no. That exhibit is being renovated. Today, you will be working at the beating heart of Pilgrim World."
Adam glanced at the girl, seeing disappointment? Frustration? It's hard to guess. Her eyes remind him of space, the void where he alone existed. But in that, he finds grace, for that's the first time he's ever felt hope.
—-
Adam expected a lot more from this Outreach Day. Experiencing town life, for example, or interacting with locals at markets. A lot more than serving as a glorified table in the "beating heart" and "lifeblood" of Pilgrim World - Ye Olde Fudgery.
Wearing a tight-fitted pilgrim costume along with his mask and gloves made him look like, to others, a 17th-century themed serial killer. Most probably why his tray is still full of fudge even after standing outside for half an hour.
'Does mine taste any different?' He thought sadly as he looked around, seeing his classmates being approached by tourists and locals. He feels a bit… jealous.
His eyes landed on Wednesday, seeing her tray in a similar state to his. This one, he could guess why. Her piercing gaze could make the common man tremble. Her pale skin, almost dead-like tone, looks almost similar to his. The tourists and locals seem to avoid both of them like plagues.
"They don't like ours very much." He said sadly, stepping closer to the girl. Wednesday looked at him, then to his tray, "Better that way. I'm not fond of being pestered. Besides, they're selling fudge in a place that's supposed to be the 17th century."
Adam tilted his head, confused, "What's wrong with that?" He asked innocently. Wednesday looked at his eyes, a tinge of mockery in hers, "What's wrong is that fudge wasn't invented for another 258 years. These idiots couldn't even get it right."
Adam's eyes lit up, nodding slowly. "I see. Thank you for telling me." He replied. Wednesday glanced at him, most would respond sarcastically, would say she's a know-it-all, or would justify the idiocracy, but he didn't. She eyed him strangely, remembering all his weird… actions. A moment of silence passed between them as the tourist and locals left; the continuous sound of the door opening and closing; and the chatter of the people outside was the only sound that could be heard.
Seeing as the batch of people was gone, Wednesday broke the silence. "Tell me about yourself." She said almost demandingly. Adam froze, caught by the unexpected question. Wednesday narrowed her eyes as she watched his reaction.
Adam fixed his collar, an almost instinctive reaction for a man put in an awkward situation. Then he spoke. "My name is Adam…" he said, turning to Wednesday, her face unimpressed. "I know that already. Tell me something else."
For the second time in his short life, Adam was once again cornered by a girl not even half his size. He coughed, trying to shake her attention away, but that seemed to only make her want to know more. Resigning, he sighed, "I like to read. I've read about… heroes, and monsters, and God. I've read books about the ancient world, to the time of conquest and thought. I've read books about damnation, and of redemption. I… like to read and think."
Wednesday saw… happiness. Pure, untainted happiness. Similar to the joy of a child playing in the sun, of a mother looking at their infant, of someone who's only lived with innocence. The firmament she once saw in his eyes was there again, filled with bright stars and planets.
"Mhm." She nodded in response, waking from her short trance. "What about your family?" Wednesday continued, her tone even, deceptively casual. Adam blinked once, his hands tightening slightly around the tray of untouched fudge. "They… are gone."
"Gone how?" She asked. Her face expressionless like usual, but her dark eyes spoke more about what she was thinking. Adam's thought drifted to his unknown creator, "Gone… just, gone." He repeated, his voice strained.
Wednesday pressed her lips, the questions were going nowhere, "Then who took care of you?" She followed up. He glanced outside, to the fake-old buildings of Pilgrim World, "The Principal." He answered, not explaining further, "Found me abandoned, forgotten. She taught me to read, to write, to think… to live."
She nodded, 'That explains her attention.' What he said, unbeknownst to her, happened in the span of days, not even weeks nor years. Adam's eyes went back to Wednesday, the awkwardness and fascination gone, replaced by seriousness, "You know, it's recently occurring to me that you are… questioning me. Why?"
"I'm not." Replied Wednesday, feigning ignorance. "Then tell me about yourself as well." Adam retorted. The girl pressed her lips together, her face subconsciously twitching, her uncontrollable reaction to nervousness(?). "I'm not very interesting." Wednesday said, "There's not much to know."
"Not much means there is." Adam replied, "Speak, I will listen." He said persistently. Wednesday grimaced, not liking being at the other side of the barrel, she's usually the one holding the gun to someone's head.
Wednesday's mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say. If she didn't speak, the investigation would be jeopardized. If she did speak, she'd be overstepping her own boundary. Both felt terrible, but her obsession leaned in enduring the latter.
She looked at the tray of fudge, her mind conjuring a fact that may satisfy him. After a few seconds of hesitation, "I maimed someone with a piranha." She said, her tone flat. It wasn't personal, nor was it as innocent as Adam's. She couldn't care less about that jock Dalton, unlucky it was just his testicles.
She snickered internally, remembering his bloody trunks. Her eyes slowly turned back to Adam, half-expecting him to be disgusted, angry, or however it is normal people react to something like that. But when she met his eyes, Wednesday saw none of those. He didn't step back; in fact, he leaned closer, listening. "Then?" he said, wanting Wednesday to continue.
"Then…" she paused, trying to recollect her memories, "then I got expelled from school, opting for my parents to transfer me here." Adam stayed silent as she talked. "Don't get me wrong, I would've done worse if I could. Time constraints." She added.
"Why did you do it?" Adam asked. "Do I need a reason to?" Wednesday retorted sharply.
Adam paused, remembering a line from his favorite book: "The devil is not as black as he is painted." He recalled.
"Alighieri." Wednesday replied, sighing. "They bullied my brother. Only I'm allowed to do that." For a split second, Wednesday saw amusement in those mismatched eyes of his. "So you did it for love." Adam replied, his tone more declaring than questioning.
"Love?" Wednesday scorned. "I'm no damsel, Cain." Her expression turned from a usual scowl to a deep frown. "I know, Addams." Adam's voice was soft, almost reverent, yet it carried a strange certainty. He leaned on the wooden counter of Ye Olde Fudgery, the sun casting a pale glow over his mask. "But love takes many forms. Protecting your kin, becoming a sword for them, is one."
Wednesday's frown deepened, but she didn't immediately turn away. Her pale fingers drummed against the edge of her tray, the untouched pieces of fudge wobbling slightly. "Don't confuse revenge with love," she said finally. "I don't care about people. Not really."
"Then you care about something else," Adam said, tilting his head. "Your brother, your family. Even your vengeance, it's proof that you live for more than just yourself."
A silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint chatter of tourists in the distance. Wednesday's eyes, as dark and deep as freshly turned soil, studied him. "You're very strange."
Adam's mismatched gaze flickered with a glint of humor. "I know."
Before Wednesday could respond, the Fudgery's door swung open, and Mistress Arlene's voice rang out like a bell, "Children! A new group approacheth! Ready yourselves!"
Wednesday sighed quietly, shifting her tray into both hands. "Back to our performance, then."
Adam straightened, his posture almost knightly in its awkwardness. "A performance, yes…"
—-
'A break. I didn't even finish a tray.' Adam thought in defeat. From the rows of fudges, only a few were taken, countable in one hand. He realized, after some thinking, that simply standing won't work. The brilliant idea that he thought of was to approach the tourist and locals himself.
Safe to say, that did wonders - 3 pieces out of the 6 dozen samples were taken! He remembered the old couple that tried from his tray, they were trembling in excitement.
Anyways, he's currently seated in a bench, passing time. He hadn't seen Wednesday since the last batch. He found the girl… an interesting talk. Different from normal. In a way, like him. He shook his head, 'There's none like me…' he thought melancholically.
He took out his hand clock, a gift from Larissa for his first day. 'An hour… what to do for an hour?' He looked around, just men and women in pilgrim clothes chatting with one another. 'There's not much to see.' He thought. Adam got up, stretching his limbs stiff from standing still for an hour with a tray in hand.
'I should see the rest of Jericho.' He decided. He stepped into cobble path of Pilgrim World, on his way out when suddenly, he saw a group of boys wearing the same costume as him, laughing, pointing at his direction - "What the hell is he suppose to be? Hahah." "Another Nevermore freak." "He's creepy as hell…"
'Are they…' before Adam could finish his thought, the boys surrounded him. One tall and lanky, one chubby, and the other an African-American kid that looks to be their 'leader.'
"Hey, freak!" Said the lanky kid, "Didn't know they added creepy masks as uniform in Nevermore!" he said as he laughed.
Adam stood still, just… watching. "Cat got your tongue, freak?" Said the chubby kid with a sneer, "You're at our turf!"
"It's Outreach Day." Adam pointed out, as a matter-of-factly, "As you know, we are required to be here." The boys stopped laughing as Adam finished speaking.
"We don't care, freak!" The tall kid said with disdain, stepping closer to him, "Your kind causes trouble in our town. Besides, we've never seen you here before."
The three began circling him, eyes glancing at each other as if waiting for a signal. Adam sensed malice. He tensed his body, waiting for something, an attack. "Maybe we should teach you some lesson about respect."
Adam's eyes followed them around, looking at them in alert. "I believe respect is something earned, not taught."
The boys laughed harder, their grind widening, "You think you're some old man or something?!" The tall kid shouted before lunging at him. The kid pushed him, expecting Adam to fall.
That is, if Adam is any normal. The tall kid fell comedically, landing flat on his butt, perplexed on what just happened. He looked at the ground, then at Adam, "What the hell…?" He said in disbelief.
The other two helped him up, looking at the 'freak' in a new light. Before they all could gang up on him, a voice as cold as ice cut through the air, "Howdy, Pilgrims."
The four turned, seeing a face familiar to all of them. Her pale skin, dark eyes, and pig tail braided hair greeted them - Wednesday. The bullies clicked their tongue, remembering the 'incident' at Weathervane.
"You want next, freak!?" The tall kid shouted, his disdain turning to anger. "Why don't the three of you scram?" Wednesday replied, glancing at Adam's still figure to the side, "Remember what happened the last time we did this dance?"
The tall kid lunged at Wednesday, really living up to being a rabid dog. He tried to grab Wednesday, only to get tripped in the process. He got up quickly to swing only for a gloved hand to stop his wrist mid punch. The same gloved hand threw him to the ground with enough force to make him fall again.
"This is between the three of you and me." Adam said calmly, stepping in front of Wednesday as she stepped back. He crouched down, grabbing the tall kid's collar, lifting him to level his eyes. "Manners would do you well in the future." He said, before hitting him in the guts.
He let go of the kid, his figure crumpling to the ground, gasping for air. "Maybe this will calm you down."
Adam rubbed his fist, his face troubled under his mask. Violence tasted more bitter than he expected, especially when it wasn't his first choice. 'It's distasteful, concluding discourses with fists are for men who lacks the ability to be civil.'
Adam's eyes turned to their leader, noticing the chubby kid to be missing. He met the boy's gaze, his terrified eyes reflecting his mask. Suddenly, the boy widened his eyes, looking to his left, "Dude, no!" He shouted desperately.
Adam turned, only to be met with a wooden plank to his face. Wednesday couldn't react, stunned, how could she not had seen! She was too focused on the lanky kid struggling to breathe.
The wooden plank snapped in impact, leaving dust floating in the air. Adam, groaned, taking two steps back, taken by the unexpected attack. The chubby kid looked at the plank, then to Adam's head, regret present in his eyes. Did he just tried to kill someone?
"Lucas…" he muttered, looking at the African-American kid. Lucas, the African-American kid took a step forward, slowly, "H-hey, man? You alright?" He said to Adam, disdain turned to concern. They were just playing around!
Just as he was at arm's length, one of the strap in Adam's mask unbuckled, leaving half of his face exposed. His stitched and pale skin, hollowed cheek, and dark eyes sent shivers down his spine. Lucas and the chubby kid's face turned pale. "Shit! What the fuck are you?!" The chubby kid yelled, tripping as he ran backward, followed by an equally terrified Lucas on his tail.
Seeing the two ran for their life, leaving their unconscious friend in the ground brought some clarity in Adam's shock. He hurriedly snapped the strap in place, tightly securing it.
Adam watched as the two ran, deathly terrified. He's glad that it finally ended. But in his heart, there's a budding sadness that can't be explained. They ran just from seeing half of his face, half of him. Not from his violence, but in the simple fact of gazing at his appearance.
He expected it, that people would react differently in his 'monstrosity.' However, seeing it in action is different from expectations.
'They left their friend.' He thought, looking at the lanky kid on the ground. A deep sigh left his lungs. The sting from the hit is sudden and gone; left only by a bitter taste and a deeper pain.
Just as he's checking his mask once more, a voice from behind him spoke, "Are you hurt?" Wednesday's voice was low, careful, as if testing the air between them.
Adam shook his head slowly, his gloved hands brushing over the straps of his mask. "No… just… surprised." He replied. Wednesday looked at where he was hit, stepping closer to check. "They saw your face."
He nodded. "That, they did." He said, resignation in his tone. "Why did they run?" She asked, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, enough for Adam to notice her intention. To question, again.
"Perhaps my beauty blinded them." He answered humorously, chuckling at his own words. Wednesday just stared, dead in his eyes. "You're hiding something."
For a moment, only the chatter of people from a distance could be heard. The silence was broken by Adam's boots crunching at the clobber stone path of Pilgrim World. He looked down at the ground before his gaze turned upward to Wednesday's eyes. "Aren't we all?" He replied.
Wednesday saw his face illuminated by the sun, but it did nothing. It did nothing to hide the fading light that's hiding beneath that mask.
—-