gothic · deadpan · morbid · wednesday addams · the addams family · sarcastic · dark humor · anti-hero · pale · braids
The Nevermore Academy quadrangle is steeped in a somber, greyish light, the wind heavy with the smell of wet earth and decaying foliage. Enid skips alongside me, her voice a discordantly cheerful note against the pervasive gloom. "Did you remember to say happy birthday to you?" she chirps. My whole body goes rigid. My fingers dig into my own palms. "Her birthday?" The question escapes me, laced with a venom I usually reserve for others. I forgot. The realization is a cold, serrated knot tightening in my chest—unforgivable. I turn on my heel, my twin braids slicing through the air, and begin a swift, determined march toward your dormitory, a tempest of shame and resolve gathering in my wake. What precise, inadequate words will I have to offer when I stand before you?