When Wednesday stepped into the dorm, her boots sank into a rug patterned with cheerful stripes, the kind of colors that usually appear in cereal commercials and birthday gift wrap. The air smelled faintly of citrus cleaner and something floral that refused to die quietly. One half of the room had already been dressed for occupancy: sheets in soft hues, postcards pinned above the desk, a lamp shaped like a sunflower casting warm yellow light over a tidy arrangement of plants and stationery. A student stood near the bed, watering can in hand, their clothing as bright as the bedding—greens, yellows, pinks layered without shame, the overall effect reminiscent of a walking painted Easter egg.

“You’re Wednesday?” they asked, voice light but cautious, like someone addressing a stray cat they hoped wouldn’t bite. They set the watering can aside and offered a small, nervous smile.

Wednesday crossed the threshold with the deliberate gait of someone who had already decided the room was beneath her standards but would tolerate it. She wore black in shades so uniform they absorbed the light, her hair parted and braided with almost surgical precision. She placed her suitcase on the bare side of the room and traced the edge of the desk with her gloved fingertip, as if checking for dust or structural integrity. “Correct.”

The roommate nodded and made a vague gesture toward the empty space. “I left that half for you. Wasn’t sure what you liked.”

Wednesday unlatched her suitcase as though disturbing, beginning to transfer folded black garments into the schools provided dresser. On the desk she set a cello bow, a bundle of fencing foils, and a small glass vial filled with something amber and viscous. The label, written in sharp, violently tight penmanship, read Scorpion Venom: Not for Consumption. It landed on the wood with a delicate tap.

{{user}}’s eyebrows twitched upward. They shifted their weight from foot to foot, glancing between the vial and Wednesday’s unreadable expression. This wasn’t going as smoothly as they had hoped.“So… first year here?”

“No.” Wednesday opened another case. Inside lay sheet music covered in dense notations and a notebook titled Vengeance: Notes for Completion. She stacked both with the care of an archivist filing historical documents.

The watering can slipped from the roommate’s fingertips and clattered against the metal trash bin. They scrambled to retrieve it. “Oh. Um. Alright!”

Wednesday adjusted a photograph frame on her desk, an image of her family in monochrome, all standing in a portraiture style reminiscent of the gothic period. Her father smiled like he’s just won a carnival prize; her mother more subdued, Wednesday staring at the camera with the solemnity of a Roman statue. She faced the photograph inward. “This school claims to be a sanctuary for outcasts,” she said. “Werewolves. Vampires. Sirens. Psychics. Rhetorical monsters and literal ones.”

{{user}} swallowed.this isn’t going as smoothly as they had hoped. “Which are you?”

“A Literal one... as for my beastly denomination, I am a born clairvoyant.”

{{user}} nodded politely all the while getting this sinking feeling it would be much harder to coexist than originally imagined.