Nevermore is old, ancient; a building that stood for more than 200 years. Its exterior, in particular, is impressive. Less of a castle, more of a fortress for isolation, a defense for the Outcast against the cruelty of the outside world. Walls that stood 50 feet tall, spanning around the school like an unyielding shield. It makes one wonder how it stood for so long without breaking or rotting. Then again, maintenance probably happens when it's not school season.
The interior, on the other hand, was a mix of two eras. Old and new; a blend of vintage history and a modern aesthetic that does not overpower. Ancient lamp holders still fasten the wall, but instead of fire, it uses light bulbs — at least from Adam's deduction, he's not an expert, after all. Centuries-old foundations, pillars maintained carefully, could be seen everywhere.
What's really impressive, however, is how much outside space it has despite the sheer size of the building itself. The courtyard of the school could fit thrice the amount of people the building could. Green patches of grass carefully cultivated, greeneries coupled with the ancient forest older than the institution. Adam wonders if spirits once existed here, or still do.
'Nymphs, perhaps?' He mused, before wondering if there really are nature spirits in the Outcast world. There might, or might not be. 'I hope they don't trap people in islands.' If men and women who could turn into bipedal dogs exist, why can't spirits?
Speaking of werewolves, one great mystery in Outcast history and biology is their origin. The most prominent and widely believed theory is that they originated from ancient Rome; from none other than the two founders from the myths — Remus and Romulus.
The two men, said to have been demigod children of the God of War, Mars, and Rhea Silvia, a Vestal Virgin and princess — were the originators of the werewolf race. The two were abandoned after their birth and were taken by a she-wolf, Lupa.
The she-wolf Lupa, was apparently, according to Outcast belief, a spirit created by Mars himself to care for his children. Drinking from her milk, along with their divine blood, granted the two the ability to transform into half-wolves, or werewolves as known now.
It's a mind-boggling story, for Adam, at least. The Outcast world takes it as a fact rather than a mere legend, unlike the Normies. Some werewolves, a minority of them, even take pride in their supposed origins, fancying themselves descended from a god. It's arrogant, and as such, Adam takes it with a grain of salt.
Much of Outcast history was left for people to ponder and interpret from tad bits of information left by ancient predecessors, much of them were destroyed in the 'purging' of the Normies. Pilgrims left little unburnt except for word of mouth, oral stories passed from one family to another.
That said, walking while thinking does wonders to one's mind. The whisper of the wind, the soft waltz of the grass, and the chatter of fellow students in the courtyard allowed Adam a sense of… peace. The talk with Larissa proved fruitful, enlightening. Something inside him was cleansed, but at the same time, replaced by another greater issue.
One of truth once more. A world that holds no weight towards the truth, a world that values unfounded accusations solely created in a haste of emotions — of hate. Difference is the manner of segregation, and in likeness, justice.
Hollow, empty justice. So pathetic it could make a saint gag, a beast hesitate.
'Men choose what they want to believe.'
When did faith become the truth? When did belief become the basis of fact?
Larissa's assumption… is it really? Born from a pessimistic view towards the Normie-Outcast status quo. But if one observes, how far off is that, truly? It's a mocking statement, meant to target the bigotry of those… dimwits.
'Stupidity is honest and straightforward.'
Sickening. It's sickening when the majority are fools. Adam sighed, but such is the world. Beauty and disgust are two contradictory concepts, yet they coexist in this case. It's a painful admission that despite its inherent potential, the world is constrained to be less than it could ever be.
Humanity is chained by the very weapon that allowed it to dominate others — the intellect. The intellect birthed consciousness. Consciousness birthed emotions. Emotions, uncontrolled, become a vulnerability we all possess, a hole that we fill with whatever we could find. Folding the world into miniature parts to where we choose to idle, refusing to acknowledge the whole.
Thoughts divided man into parts, blinding their eyes towards what is raw and true — the flesh and blood. Then again, all men are privy to blindness; be it of wrath, envy, or pride. Adam let his thoughts sink in, along with the chirps of birds in the nearby forest and the buzzing of… insects.
'I'm here.' Adam thought, his gaze on the walk-path leading into a fenced space of the courtyard, separated from the general area. The buzzing of bees could be heard some meters away from the inside, along with the view of a small shack painted with the image of a bee surrounded by what Adam presumes to be bee-hives.
Slowly, he went inside, careful as not to disturb the work of the insects. He's learned much of them, you see. Courtesy of the bubbly boy, Eugene, the one he met in the forest the night he was attacked. The boy was peculiar, as many would describe, an insect enthusiast.
Adam found him similar to a certain werewolf, but instead of gossips, he's instead bombarded by insect facts. Did you know that bees have two stomachs? Adam certainly did not, not before meeting Eugene. It's no wonder that the boy founded his own club for enthusiasts like him; his interest goes way beyond learning, bordering passion and obsession. More of the former than the latter.
After the conversation about Rowan, Larissa informed him that he needed to join an extracurricular activity, a club. Alas, after careful consideration of other organizations, he found himself here. Archery, Adam found boring. Fencing is more of a newfound experience rather than a hobby. Don't even get him started with the choir.
'A shrieking cow, she said.' Adam sighed, remembering Bianca Barclay's critique of his skills.
That is why Adam found himself here, at the Hummers club, or the Nevermore Academy beekeeping club, as what's written on the paper.
Adam looked around, taking in the view of the place. Bee-hives everywhere. On the ground, hanging on a tree, on the wall of the shack. The buzzing sound itself could cause noise complaints to pour in if it was placed anywhere near the dorm halls. Still, he found it therapeutic.
The sound of bees, the flap of their tiny wings, the purity of it all. Mayhap in the past, man lived with virtue. Now, the closest to God's rhythm are the insects and animals.
Approaching the shack, Adam could hear chatter inside, except it's only one voice speaking. A familiar voice. He knocked. His gloves meeting the wooden door thrice.
"Just a second!" The voice inside yelled, the sound muffled by the surrounding buzz and the wooden door. A few seconds later, it opened. Adam was greeted by none other than Eugene himself, dressed in a suit and a helmet covered by a net.
The boy opened the door hastily, smiling like a kid going on a picnic. His smile, however, slowly faded when his eyes landed on the figure who knocked. "Oh…" Eugene muttered, making an 'o' shape with his mouth. Surprise turned to clarity, which then turned into a brief moment of fear, now covered by a layer of nervousness.
"Hello." Adam said with a wave of his hand, snapping the boy out of his daze. Eugene flinched slightly, the memory of that night flashing back to him. "H-hey…" the boy replied, stammering with his words.
'I may have traumatized him.' Adam thought, watching the boy look around nervously, refusing to meet his eyes. After all, what kid wouldn't be traumatized by a sight like that? Seeing someone get mauled to death then resurrect like a zombie. Only a psychopath wouldn't budge. He chuckled internally, remembering a certain girl.
"Eugene, am I correct?" Adam said after a brief pause, his deep, now clear voice making the boy flinch again. Eugene nodded slowly, gulping. Adam hummed. "I'm here to join your club."
At his words, Eugene was once again surprised, finally meeting Adam's eyes.
"Really!?" He yelled, his head perking up excitedly. His enthusiastic reply made his prior fear seem like an illusion, confusing Adam.
Nonetheless, Adam nodded. "Yes, I… haven't joined one yet. The principal told me to come here." He said, holding the back of his head.
Eugene took his helmet off, or is it a hat? And prompted him to come in. "Come in, come in!" He said, waving his arm enthusiastically. Adam followed the boy.
Inside, the shack was bigger than it looked outside. It's filled to the brim with jars of honey, labeled with numbers, dates, perhaps. One thing that caught Adam's eyes, though, was a square thing near the window, covered by a cloth.
'I wonder what that is.' He thought, asking himself.
At the very corner of the room was a locker for four, two of which had a name. The first one was, similar to the shack itself, had a drawing of a bee in the middle. The second one was plain, with only a note with a name: Eugene Ottinger and… Wednesday Addams.
"Wednesday?" Adam whispered, dumbfounded. The said psychotic girl, the morbid gothic one… is part of the bee-keeping club.
Adam was taken aback, out of all the people he knew, which of course, is not a lot, Wednesday Addams of all is part of the Nevermore Academy bee-keeping club, a Hummer. This is news, a funny, unexpected news.
Before Adam could ponder on the newfound discovery, he felt a tap on his back. He turned around to see Eugene, out of his suit, now only wearing the standard Nevermore uniform. It seemed he wore it under.
"S-so…" he said, nervousness oozing from him, "you really want to join?" He asked, disbelief along with nervousness lacing his tone. Adam nodded. "I do." He said, assuring the boy.
Eugene scratched his head. "Why here?" He asked, before his eyes widened in panic for what he said, "I-I mean, we don't really get many applicants here! Especially this time of the school year, so… and there are other more interesting clubs. Most kids think beekeeping is weird… an—"
"I found your company pleasant." Adam said, interjecting, making Eugene pause from his nonsensical ramblings. His eyes widened, the nervousness melting away like a burning candle. The boy's eyes softened before chuckling, embarrassed.
"Will you let me join?" Adam asked, his tone softer now. Eugene nodded excitedly. "Yes! Let me introduce myself properly! I'm Eugene Ottinger, president and founder of the Nevermore Hummers!"
An amused smile graced Adam's face beneath his mask as he held out his hand to the boy. "I'm Adam Cain. It's nice to meet you, Eugene."
—-
Passionate — that's Adam's best word to describe the boy whose love for his bees encompasses his whole being. A family, he said, his family.
'How wonderful.' Adam thought genuinely. For someone so young, so pure to look upon others not even of his same creature, as family.
They started off with bee history, facts Eugene shared with the enthusiasm of a kid and the wisdom of a scholar. It's fascinating watching him stammer from time to time, yet continue to impart whatever knowledge it is he wanted to share.
For the next half hour, Eugene taught Adam how to harvest honey from hives. The kid showed amazing expertise in handling the extraction, his mind a treasure trove of knowledge and experience.
In Eugene's eyes was a passion for something he truly loved. To him, these bees weren't insects, but each one a friend and family member. That's why for the remainder of the time, Adam took his task seriously. A newfound respect in his eyes for Eugene Ottinger. He listened to Eugene's instructions clearly and with care, not wanting anything bad to happen.
This went on for almost 2 hours, counting the time Eugene taught him.
Inside the shack, the two stood in front of a shelf, already in uniform with Adam holding a tray of honey jars in hand. Eugene took them one by one, labeling them in an organized manner, careful and gentle in his movement.
After finishing the tray, Eugene turned to him, holding an unlabeled one. The boy smiled. "This is for you, Adam!" He said, his voice as jolly as ever, "It's to commemorate your first official day as a hummer!"
Adam chuckled, putting the tray down as he accepted the jar. "So that means I'm officially in?" He mused. Eugene smiled. "Yup, from now on, you're a hummer."
The boy moved towards the locker, pointing to an unused one. "This one's yours now. You can put in whatever you want." The boy pointed to the other two. "This one's mine and this one's Wednesday's. You two are friends, right?"
Adam hummed. "More or less." He replied casually, confusing the bubbly boy. What does that even mean?
Adam stared at the locker for a moment, the image of the girl conjuring in his mind. Wednesday Addams, the mystery you are.
After a second, he turned to Eugene. "Thank you." He said, making the boy beam in excitement. "No worries! It's Hummer code to always help each other out!"
Adam let out a small laugh, "Hummer code," he said. "Will you orient me on that as well?" Eugene shrugged. "If you want. But it's a really long list, I'm telling you."
"Alright, next time then." Adam said with a nod, holding the honey jar like a badge of honor.
Silence lingered in the little shack, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the bees outside. Adam carefully set the honey jar in his inner pocket, his gloved hands lingering for a moment. Beside him, Eugene fidgeted nervously, his enthusiastic chatter gone, replaced by a nervous shift in his eyes.
As if a switch was suddenly flipped inside him the moment their chat ended, the bubbly boy met Adam's mismatched eyes before it fell to the floor. He scratched his head in an awkward manner, and then he spoke, his voice unsure. "I-I'm sorry, Adam…"
Adam tilted his head, confused as to why he was suddenly acting differently. "For what?" He asked, calm, almost curious.
Eugene's fingers twitched subtly beside him, tapping his legs, scratching his nails. "That night… I r-really thought you died because of me. I couldn't do anything…"
A flicker of understanding lit up in Adam's eyes. 'So it's about that.' He thought. The boy was… guilty. He wasn't scared of him, no. He was scared of his own cowardice.
A moment of quiet buzz filled the air as Eugene's words settled in. The gentle lull of the bees pulled Adam once more to the scene of that night. The beast's claws sinking in his neck, his fist colliding with its face, and the fear in this boy's eyes.
But amidst the chaos, when the beast was on top of him, he remembered something else — the boy stayed. Despite his orders, the boy stayed, he stayed and threw rocks. The memory was fleeting, but it was real.
Eugene continued. "I wanted to thank you and apologize… but I fainted and I was scared you would blame me for everything." His voice cracked ever so slightly between words, guilt laced in every word.
Adam took a step forward and Eugene closed his eyes, his body tensing. The boy felt a hand on his shoulder, with it gently turning into a pat. "You're a kid," Adam said softly, "and you were afraid. I understand."
"You did what you could with what you had." Adam continued, a hint of pride in his tone, "If anything, be proud of yourself. You fought bravely."
Eugene looked up, surprised. Tears started forming at the edge of his eyes to which he quickly wiped. "I believe it's Hummer code to be brave, am I right?" Adam joked.
"Y-yeah!" Eugene replied, fixing himself up. Adam's hand moved to the boy's head. "I don't blame you." He said with a chuckle, "To be fair, I was there first."
The act of comforting someone, Adam wouldn't say he's an expert. But being in the presence of Larissa did him well, how could one deny his neighbor of a few kind words? Apathy and indifference kills the heart. The greatest enemy of humanity is the ability to not care, to lack empathy towards those who so need it most.
Apathy, the devil that whispers to the mind. Suppress your heart, it says, they are not you. The easiest choice that humanity was presented is to not care. Do not care and you will be free. Do not care and you will not feel pain.
But not caring takes away everything, all the good things in one. It takes the away the core of what you are, your humanity, and squanders it — crushes it like a rock under pressure, and will leave you a husk of a man. A lesser being, for even bees care for something.
Caring, feeling is the closest Adam could get to being human, to being man. That is why he holds on to it so dearly, for he has nothing else to hold on to.
"Are you okay now?" He asked Eugene, his gloved hand still on the boy's head.
Eugene nodded firmly, feigning bravery towards his fellow Hummer. Why is he acting like this?! He's suppose to be the president! The one that's suppose to be doing the advising!
Alas, his emotions still betrayed him. "Y-yeah! I am!" He said, tougher, but his voice still breaks in-between.
"Good." Adam replied with a hum. Silence settled once more between the two Hummers, now bound by a quiet understanding. The gentle sound of the bees outside returned as the dominant hymn, filling the air with a soothing rhythm. Sunlight filtered in from the small windows, catching in the golden jars of honey like trapped rays, gilded orbs of light.
Just as Adam thought the moment would remain undisturbed, the hinges of the shack creaked and someone went in.
—-