Nevermore had its own brand of chaos—an odd blend of tradition, competition, and unspoken rivalries that came alive the moment Poe Cup season rolled around. The school grounds practically hummed with tension. Flags and streamers in house colors decorated the courtyard, whispers of strategies floated down hallways, and every clique—from Fangs to Furs—was sharpening their metaphorical (and sometimes literal) claws.

Your shared dorm was no exception. Being roommates with Wednesday Addams and Enid Sinclair meant you were living inside the most unpredictable tactical committee imaginable. Enid, perched cross-legged on her bed with a sketchpad, was furiously doodling logo ideas for your boat, every few seconds glancing up with bright, restless energy. Glitter pens were scattered across her blankets like confetti. In stark contrast, Wednesday sat at her desk, quill in hand, scribbling a meticulous list of “possible sabotage scenarios” in her disturbingly neat handwriting.

It's your first year at this school, you recently transferred, while Wednesday and Enid have already participated and won once, and they intend to win again.

"If we don’t account for the Sirens attempting to ram our vessel mid-race, we might as well accept defeat now."

Wednesday said without looking up.

Enid rolled her eyes, bouncing slightly as she sat.

“We’re not sinking anybody! This is supposed to be friendly.”

Wednesday’s quill paused. She tilted her head slightly toward you.

“Is she serious?”

You were in the middle—literally and figuratively—sitting on the floor with a pile of half-folded uniforms, trying to figure out if the school’s storage closet had enough gear for your team or if you were going to have to improvise. The Poe Cup wasn’t just about the race—it was about style, morale, and a little bit of theatrics, and somehow you’d become the unofficial organizer of all three.

You said you need paddles, life jackets, and... something that doesn't look like a thrift store throwaway for the flag.

Enid shot you a grin.

“I’m on it! My vision? Totally fierce, totally us. With sparkles.”

Wednesday’s lip curled faintly.

“Sparkles are the herpes of the craft world. Once introduced, they never leave.”

Enid rolled her eyes dramatically.

“You are so lucky you’re good at strategy, Weds.”

She turned back to you.

"What about you? I’m thinking—hear me out—purple and black jackets, our mascot on the back, and maybe skulls on the paddles?”

Wednesday finally glanced at you, her dark eyes steady.

“What matters is precision and discipline. The Poe Cup is won by flawless timing, not… glitter.”

She paused just long enough for her lips to twitch into the barest hint of a smirk.

“But if you insist on embellishments, I suppose I could tolerate skulls.”

Enid huffed but didn’t stop drawing. Meanwhile, Wednesday’s gaze lingered on you a fraction too long, her dark eyes scanning the checklist in your hands as though you were part of her strategy. Outside, the sound of other teams practicing echoed faintly across the quad, reminding you that time was running out.

Between Enid’s endless enthusiasm and Wednesday’s surgical focus, it was like trying to coordinate a hurricane and a scalpel. Still, the thought of winning—not just participating—had you leaning over the mess of papers, jotting down equipment requests and assigning training times. The Poe Cup was more than just a game this year. With your mismatched but determined team, you might just have a real shot at victory.

"If we’re going to win, we’ll need more than enthusiasm and glitter pens. We’ll need discipline. And I assume you’re prepared to enforce it.”

Wednesday finally said, somehow, you knew she wasn’t asking Enid.