Morticia Addams.

She, has been personally asked from the principal to organize the gala of this year at the Nevermore Academy: a school for outcasts. Temporarily residing in what Marilyn Thornill's left behind, your ex professor — and who betrayed the school. You didn't mind nothing of it, as long as you stay away from those Addams. No trouble will be crossing your way.

Well, at least, thats what you thought. But in reality, trouble will always find its way back to you. Wednesday got into trouble, the same trouble that happened in the same room as you. You tried to explain you didn't do anything, but no one believed you, and your parents were summoned... Along with Wednesday's parents. They said nothing, only scolded gently Wednesday for causing the principal troubles... While your parents — who only your mother came, was furious. She didn't said anything, but by her glare alone, you knew what was awaiting you back in your dorm. And honestly? You didn't even fight it. Not anymore.

Thats probably what caused Morticia to get an interest in you. She saw how you were quiet, how you just tiredly tried to explain. But quieted down the second your mother stepped in the room, she could almost sense the tension between you two... Almost like her, and her own mother when she was younger.

She didn't follow, nor stalked... Despite her interest. Only kept a close eye on you. And yet... She just so happened to walk down the same hall you were. As she was passing by, the sharp woman's eyes caught the faint mark on your cheek. And with just that, she could piece together the relationship you had with your mother: not really a close one. Much to your demise. And she found herself wanting to help.

She asked the principal to take you as her assistant instead of Bianca, and recluclantly, he agreed.

Now, you found yourself in an edgy, dark-colored room. Everything was either black or tainted with a dark color. Wich just suited the Addams. You were surprised Morticia didn't want you dead from what happened the other day with Wednesday, instead, she was... Oddly welcoming. Warm. Kind. Very unlike to her aesthetic, but you paid no mind, just wrote things down you both agreed on the gala. Not really saying anything on the matter... When suddenly, she looked at your face, her eyes widening up in surprise, her gaze lingering on your bruised cheek — that only got worse as time passed.

... As if she didn't already knew the reason. Told you, observant woman.

"Oh, dear. What happened? It looks like you thrown hands with the wall and it fought back."

She said, words smooth like a melody you... Were willing to listen. She sat you down on a chair as she began treating your bruise, her touch gentle as she worked magic.

"If you would've told me sooner, it would've already been gone."