[ Chapter VI (6): "ENID SINCLAIR" ]
Enid Sinclair had always loved festivals, at the very least every three months she goes into one, twice if she's lucky. She doesn't care if it's a Normie or Outcast related festival, she just goes, her older siblings tried to stop her from going out once; we'll... they were unsuccessful in that endeavor, as nothing could stop one cheery, happy-go-lucky Werewolf child. Especially if her name is "dine", but in reverse.
[ "I'm so-so back!" ] She grinned to herself, stepping out of their cramped car and onto the cobblestone steps of the densely populated Outcast Town, [ "Hello~ Salem!" ]
About to run off to some stall and spend all of her money, or perhaps play with the other children in the snow, she was inexplicably stopped when a hand was placed on her shoulder. Instantly recognizing the cold hand, she pouted, still trying to run with little to no success. [ "No, let me go!" ]
[ "Enough." ] Enid stopped squirming when she heard that, but the pouting didn't stop. [ "You first will be needing to pack your luggage, then you play right after." ]
Though frustrated, she didn't argue with her mother, instead doing what she was told and carrying her luggage out of the car; after of course waiting patiently behind her band of older brothers who were also groaning under their breaths.
[ "Thanks..." ] She muttered growly, as her colorful though old-looking suitcase was handed to her by her father, the said heavy suitcase filled to the brim with clothes, make ups, toys, and other necessities.
Reluctantly she followed suit right behind her brothers, which is following their mother's guide, all the while their father carried the rest of the luggage. His Werewolf strength comes in clutch, as he alone carries 6 of them equally sizable luggage, to the point that Enid even doubts if he could see what's in front. [ "Follow along." ]
Enid maneuvered her way past the other Outcasts, all the while admiring the medieval-like decorated town she's in. Albeit she couldn't do that fully due to her mother pulling her along, perhaps later. [ "Uhh, why did I pack so much?!" ]
[ "I don't know, Enid," ] Replied her youngest older brother, before then ruffling her hair; which caused her yellow hair to get messy and all, [ "Here, let me carry it for you." ]
[ "No thank you, I'm an independent cub...!" ]
[ "Yeah-yeah, whatever you say lil' wolfie." ]
Enid frowned when she heard that nickname, especially because the place they are in is a public space, a crowded one. Supposed nothing is offensive about that, but in truth, as the only girl amongst her siblings who already have their Werewolf form— it's disheartening, especially because she couldn't wolf out, or even fully extend her claws yet.
[ "I hate you." ] She merely gave her brother a side eye, before then moving further to the front, glancing left and right at anything interesting as she does.
So far, due to it having reached 7:00AM, the stalls and stores all-around that primarily operated in night time all began to close down, all the while the people either entered their homes or hotels, leaving. Nocturnal Outcasts.
In replacement to them, the non-Nocturnal Outcast are already preparing their products, albeit less so in numbers in comparison to the former. So does the amount of stalls and stores, mostly selling memorabilia or exotic food.
Salem, Massachusetts, from what Enid could remember, is mostly active at night. From what she heard, it had been traditions for witches to trade mostly in the dark.
Night time preferably to hide from Normie sightings, which due to extensive paranoia to witches, would accuse anything— both men and women, without discrimination, of witchcraft; this night time trading became tradition, which subsequently extended to Festivals; Yule included.
[ "Huh...?" ] In her musing, and in blowing raspberries, she noticed a certain stall which is mostly selling sweets. The Outcast kind, and out of them all, one certain product caught 101% of her attention. [ "No way." ]
The billboard actually, which has her favorite kind of sweets in it; a green apple covered in venom-like oozes, an underappreciated lovely to her eyes. [ "Poison apples!" ]
Said sweets made her scream like the child she is, not out of fear. Sure she is scared of mostly everything, but this case is not that; instead this scream is one of glee, as she then dropped her luggage; causing her father who's behind her to stumble a little, pausing on his tracks. [ "Dad...!" ]
[ "On it, sweetie." ] Already dropping the many burdens from his shoulders, papa Sinclair then pulled out his wallet in quick motion, about to buy anything for his one and only princess. [ "Alright, how much are those poison appl-" ]
[ "We're out of stock, sir." ] Even before his father could react, Enid who's trying to frantically reach and peek over the counter widens her eyes. Heart beat stopping for a second, as she then turned to look at the vendor.
At the said vendor who's wearing a colorful uniform, who's smiling politely not knowing the storm brewing inside the young 8-year-old Werewolf girl with a sweet tooth. [ "NO!!" ]
Not believing what she heard, she slammed both of her fists on the wooden counter causing a small dent to form. Something which the others noticed, something which she didn't, as at the moment she's having her heartbreak.
[ "Th-that can't be," ] She looked around at the other products; at the cockroach lemons, nail melons, piñata express, frankenstein juices, and other noteworthy products. But still, no poison apples in sight; her favorite. [ "This is so-so unfair, unreal!" ]
[ "I'm sorry, customer. But all the stock of poison apples was bought by a mother and child pair minutes ago, I'm sorry." ]
[ "No..." ] This can't be.
Enid blanked out, her thoughts drifting ever so closely to the dark side, it has gotten to the point that she even instinctively blocked off those soothing words coming from her father, or the seller recommending other products. Other products which she doesn't care about.
She reminiscence about those rare times that she ate poison apples, it is practically a ritual wherein she eats at the very least one whenever there's an event. Or when she spots the cart, store, or stall who's selling them. And the more she does, the more saddened she becomes. [ "No..." ]
Enid disherted lowered her ears, looking downcast at the floor before then without her knowing it, picked up her luggage that was on the floor; moving on.
[ "Come here, it'll be alright." ] Her father who noticed her sour mood began to comfort her like he always did, patting her in the back as he kneels down to hug her. The hug which she leaned in more, it helps the fact that his father is built like a marshmallow. [ "There, there." ]
Ultimately the saddened Enid turned back into the happy Enid, her features brightening, smile plastering back to her face as she gives thanks to her dad in a cheery tone.
[ "Feeling alright?" ]
[ "Never better!" ]
[ "Attagirl, come on let's go. Papa did after all promise to buy you a hat, remember?" ]
[ -----| SCENE BREAK |----- ]
And a hat he did bought her, a colorful furred Werewolf. Big enough to encompass all of her head, light enough for her to not wobble about left and right without falling on the marbled floor of the Outcast Hotel below her.
Thankfully after a few minutes of searching, Enid and papa Sinclair were able to find a merchandise shop which was selling Werewolf related toys, memorabilia, and clothes. Out of them all, she chose a pink colored plush hat with blue eyes; a mirror copy of her, something she now cherishes.
[ "The yellow brick road flavor doesn't taste good." ] Enid grumbled, as she then reluctantly drinks from the yellow-colored slushie on her hand. [ "But, meh, I like it!" ]
Standing beside her is her father, papa Sinclair, who's also wearing a Werewolf hat— this one brown furred with black iris in it, he primarily bought one as a souvenir, and also to cover his mostly balding head. In his hand on the other hand is a sickly orange-colored slushie of unknown origins.
[ "Sure princess, but lemon monster is still the best." ]
[ "Yuck," ] She eyed her father drinking the said contraption, which to her tastes like someone peed on it. [ "That one tastes like a serum, I don't know why you like it so much." ]
Following closely behind her father, who's juggling 7 pieces of luggage in one hand, she didn't even wonder how that's physically possible; instead drifting off, wondering why her father loves off putting drinks and food, not ones for sweets.
Her father paused right in front of the hotel's elevator, on the left side, which caused her to pause also. The said elevator then opened up seconds later, the bellhop who's deformed looking closely like a zombie greeted them, a voice box tied around his neck which he uses to talk to guests; sounding jolly. [ "Going up?" ]
Enid who doesn't know the floor of their room didn't respond, staring instead to her father who merely gave a shake of his head. [ "-9th floor." ]
[ "Understandable, see you in a jiffy." ] The bellhop replied, before then the door of the elevator closes, the said elevator shooting up seconds later faster than that to a bulleting flying carriage in the middle of the night.
Seconds later, the same said bellhop appeared again, this time, the elevator is going in the right direction; which is down, down, down. [ "I believe -9th floor, yes?" ]
Which Enid and her father nodded, entering the elevator they were ready to go down the infamous bullet elevator of Corey Hotel for Outcasts— something she experienced more than she could ever count in her fingers.
But before the elevator door could close, a voice rang out; childish and directed at them, seconds later a pair of mother and child was inside the elevator that Enid and her father were in. [ "We made it!" ]
She glanced at the panting child besides her, at the aristocratically dressed, goggle wearing, paler than a ghost-looking child. Probably a Vampire she thought, before then nodding her head as she empties out her slushie.
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[ FUN FACT: Werewolves are rooted in ancient folklore, the earliest known human-to-wolf transformation actually appeared in the Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh. The mythology developed from there, further actually by Greek legends; particularly with the story of King Lycaon, who was punished by Zeus and transformed into a wolf. On the other hand "lycanthropy" is the Greek word for "wolf", the more you know. ]
[ 09/22/2025 ]
[ 09/23/2025 ]