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[attr="class","ic_year"]Alternate Reality
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[attr="class","ic_message_scroll"]At last, it was time for Rafail to start his final year of college.
Why he was here, he still didn't exactly understand. Usually, Daddy tended to give him free reign to do whatever he liked but, unfortunately, that had not been the case this time around and college it was. He had been livid, more so when Daddy had paid so much to ensure him a place and there was nothing he could do. Luckily, it hadn't been anywhere near as dull as he would have expected - and one of his professors had been a delightful lay for three years (if solely to ensure his grades were kept where he needed them, the same trick he'd used during a large part of high school) - but he was still thankful that he was finally a senior and he would soon be able to leave this hellhole.
There was one saving grace to the savagery that was his time at university, and that was that, in the three years of horror he had suffered, whenever he was in a stormy mood he knew he could retire to his excessively comfortable dormitory. Because if there was one thing he had made very, very clear to Daddy when he had arrived, it was that there was no chance Rafail would spend four years living in some hovel. He was accustomed to a very certain lifestyle and that was most certainly not going to change simply because he was no longer living at home. He wanted a large room for himself, the sort usually reserved for groups of three or four, and he wanted it of the very best variety, although, given the calibre of the university, it was an impossibility for any of the rooms to be less than elegant. He wanted an ensuite - with a bath, obviously - and he wanted a reasonably sized closet, and if he didn't have all of those things then he would sue. Who exactly he planned to sue he hadn't considered but, luckily, things didn't ever get that far before Daddy swept in to solve all of his problems.
The room he'd eventually been provided with after extensive additional...donations had been given was fitting to all of his desires, absurd as they might have sounded on paper. The walls were panelled in dark wood, and the floor had a plush red carpet covering it. The place was luxurious and had managed to make the past three years somewhat more bearable, not to mention the girls he brought around to his dormitory were always impressed and usually wanted to come by again. It was the one thing Rafail looked forwards to when, mid-August, he returned to the university for his final year of study. That and the fact that there were always new freshman girls who were interested in the rich, older boy and were, therefore, easy targets.
Daddy was busy at work that day which meant that Rafail was being forced to handle everything himself, something he thought unacceptable, especially when he was wearing such a costly suit and jewellery that day, none of which he planned in ruining in any way. At least Sofia had wished him a proper goodbye (she had even offered to help him move in, though he had declined her offer because he would never have put his sister through something as strenuous as that). Instead, he was moving in solely with the assistance of the two members of the staff at home he considered trustworthy enough when it came to his belongings. Barnabas could take him but Deucalion (what a stupid name the man had!) would have to drive separately: Rafail would not be sharing his sleek Rolls with all of his baggage, it was simply unheard of.
When they'd arrived at the university, he made his way directly to the same room he'd had for the past three years, assuming, of course, that everything would be the same as it always was, directing each of his companions in with one of his navy-blue-and-gold Louis Vuitton trunks in hand. "Don't fucking scratch them like you did last time," he commented as he leaned on the doorframe, inspecting his latest manicure as he waited for everything to be brought inside and the pair to start unpacking his bags before he entered himself. The 'R' in his carefully monogrammed initials had almost been rubbed off from their mishandling the cases last time, and Rafail had been forced to have the entire set of bags replaced as a result.
Wait.
Woah, woah, woah. This was not right.
Rafail furrowed his eyebrows together into a scowl, mouth shifting into an irritated pout as he entered and his eyes scanned over the room, sure he had come to the right one after so many years and yet now partially unrecognisable as a second bed had been brought in and his kingsize had been switched out for another twin. This was not alright and neither of his stupid, stupid servants seemed to care, acting like everything was absolutely alright. Snapping his fingers at Barnabas so the man would stop paying attention to his collection of shoes for a moment and start paying attention to him instead, he barked at him: "Call Daddy's secretary. Now. I'm not going to be sharing this place. I want my room back.". Rafail waited until he could be sure the call was being made (you could never trust the help) and then took the chance to move away, storming into the adjoining bathroom to splash some cold water on his face, just in case this was some horrifying nightmare and there was a chance of waking up.
Why he was here, he still didn't exactly understand. Usually, Daddy tended to give him free reign to do whatever he liked but, unfortunately, that had not been the case this time around and college it was. He had been livid, more so when Daddy had paid so much to ensure him a place and there was nothing he could do. Luckily, it hadn't been anywhere near as dull as he would have expected - and one of his professors had been a delightful lay for three years (if solely to ensure his grades were kept where he needed them, the same trick he'd used during a large part of high school) - but he was still thankful that he was finally a senior and he would soon be able to leave this hellhole.
There was one saving grace to the savagery that was his time at university, and that was that, in the three years of horror he had suffered, whenever he was in a stormy mood he knew he could retire to his excessively comfortable dormitory. Because if there was one thing he had made very, very clear to Daddy when he had arrived, it was that there was no chance Rafail would spend four years living in some hovel. He was accustomed to a very certain lifestyle and that was most certainly not going to change simply because he was no longer living at home. He wanted a large room for himself, the sort usually reserved for groups of three or four, and he wanted it of the very best variety, although, given the calibre of the university, it was an impossibility for any of the rooms to be less than elegant. He wanted an ensuite - with a bath, obviously - and he wanted a reasonably sized closet, and if he didn't have all of those things then he would sue. Who exactly he planned to sue he hadn't considered but, luckily, things didn't ever get that far before Daddy swept in to solve all of his problems.
The room he'd eventually been provided with after extensive additional...donations had been given was fitting to all of his desires, absurd as they might have sounded on paper. The walls were panelled in dark wood, and the floor had a plush red carpet covering it. The place was luxurious and had managed to make the past three years somewhat more bearable, not to mention the girls he brought around to his dormitory were always impressed and usually wanted to come by again. It was the one thing Rafail looked forwards to when, mid-August, he returned to the university for his final year of study. That and the fact that there were always new freshman girls who were interested in the rich, older boy and were, therefore, easy targets.
Daddy was busy at work that day which meant that Rafail was being forced to handle everything himself, something he thought unacceptable, especially when he was wearing such a costly suit and jewellery that day, none of which he planned in ruining in any way. At least Sofia had wished him a proper goodbye (she had even offered to help him move in, though he had declined her offer because he would never have put his sister through something as strenuous as that). Instead, he was moving in solely with the assistance of the two members of the staff at home he considered trustworthy enough when it came to his belongings. Barnabas could take him but Deucalion (what a stupid name the man had!) would have to drive separately: Rafail would not be sharing his sleek Rolls with all of his baggage, it was simply unheard of.
When they'd arrived at the university, he made his way directly to the same room he'd had for the past three years, assuming, of course, that everything would be the same as it always was, directing each of his companions in with one of his navy-blue-and-gold Louis Vuitton trunks in hand. "Don't fucking scratch them like you did last time," he commented as he leaned on the doorframe, inspecting his latest manicure as he waited for everything to be brought inside and the pair to start unpacking his bags before he entered himself. The 'R' in his carefully monogrammed initials had almost been rubbed off from their mishandling the cases last time, and Rafail had been forced to have the entire set of bags replaced as a result.
Wait.
Woah, woah, woah. This was not right.
Rafail furrowed his eyebrows together into a scowl, mouth shifting into an irritated pout as he entered and his eyes scanned over the room, sure he had come to the right one after so many years and yet now partially unrecognisable as a second bed had been brought in and his kingsize had been switched out for another twin. This was not alright and neither of his stupid, stupid servants seemed to care, acting like everything was absolutely alright. Snapping his fingers at Barnabas so the man would stop paying attention to his collection of shoes for a moment and start paying attention to him instead, he barked at him: "Call Daddy's secretary. Now. I'm not going to be sharing this place. I want my room back.". Rafail waited until he could be sure the call was being made (you could never trust the help) and then took the chance to move away, storming into the adjoining bathroom to splash some cold water on his face, just in case this was some horrifying nightmare and there was a chance of waking up.
[attr="class","ic_maintag"]Timaeus of Valaoritis
[attr="class","ic_threadtype"]Private
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