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[attr="class","ic_year"]Alternate Reality
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[attr="class","ic_message_scroll"]There was a particular reason why Rafail had requested he take a study period first thing in the morning, and that was for the simple fact that starting your education at seven in the morning (ignoring that extra half hour that existed for whatever the reason) was an absolute atrocity. He had a reputation to uphold, and a part of that reputation lay in his extraordinarily good looks, and without the time to spare in the morning ensuring those good looks remained exactly that, well, what was a man to do?
Pavlos, who was still loitering uselessly around the Marikas household - Rafail wasn't sure why he couldn't spend his time in the house Daddy had bought for him and his fiancée - had commented that no one cared how he looked and, anyhow, the masses of high school were hardly going to notice if his hair wasn't slicked back in just the right way.
"I doubt you would know anything about hair styling with that caterpillar you call a moustache," Rafail had answered, setting down his half-eaten hot chocolate croissant and rising from the dining table. Why he had opted to take meals in his dining room as opposed to the usual choice of his own room he had no idea. "I don't have time for this, I still have a headache from last night, and it's far too early. I loathe first days. Speeches." He scoffed, tightening the belt of his dark grey silk robe around him as he exited the room, only glancing over his shoulder once more to call out: "Oh, and if you have the chance, Pav, call Daddy's secretary and have her book me an appointment at the spa later. I'm too busy otherwise."
For the most part, Rafail made a habit of wearing those dark bespoke suits which so suited his complexion and frame but, alas, his education forbade it of him, no matter how often he had assured them that Daddy would pay an excessive sum to ensure his comfort in style of dress. At least the royal blue of the uniform blazer, with its golden accents and the contrast of the crisp white shirt and blue and gold silk tie looked marvellous on him. It was kind, one might say, of the school to have elected to use colour so complementary to him. Rafail selected a neatly ironed shirt in crisp white from the pile, fastening the cuffs easily with his set of golden owl cufflinks - so cute, an early gift for his eighteenth - and carefully adjusting the collar so that his carefully monogrammed initials were visible. The trousers were the same bright shade of deep blue and the classic Oxfords a black Testoni leather. For a school uniform, it looked as exceptional on him as it would have had he had the suit designed personally.
"Call the car out," he waved over at someone, gods be damned if he knew any of the staff's names.
With such an early wake-up (5.45 was nothing short of an atrocity) there was hardly time to plan his appearance as he might have wanted. The facial had been done the night before, and, now meticulously cleanshaven so that he might not suffer the same ludicrous facial hair that his brother had before him, all that remained was to slick his hair back and look stunningly superb.
It was only a fifteen-minute drive to the school, though it felt a fucking eternity as Rafail sat in the back of the Black Badge Wraith, drumming his fingers on the deep blue armrest. He ran over the options for his speech in his mind, having failed to write anything of use in preparation for this assembly because, honestly, what Marikas had the time to be writing his speeches? Rafail was almost sure Daddy didn't write the ones he gave at official functions every so often, although given that he was quite the workaholic - the youngest Marikas son had learned that much during his nightmarish internship at the family company earlier that summer - perhaps he did. Besides, Danae would probably have fussed enough over the occasion to have something suitable ready for him when he arrived: she had implied as much during the preceding week's open house.
School was a dark red brick building, tall and imposing and built in a style which might have reminded one of the late 18th century if one were architecturally inclined. Rafail was not, and he strolled through the crowd gathering out front with little interest, adjusting the strap of the Louis Vuitton messenger bag as he pulled it from his locker and swung it in the direction of the closest person who seemed exploitably vulnerable. "Put this in my locker. 525. Go, hurry up, I have a speech to give." In...five minutes. Urgh. Luckily, it looked as though Danae had not let him down (utter shock!) for she was hovering in the wings of the stage with the sheets of paper he could only assume were the speech, an irritated expression resting on her face, although it came as no surprise. His cousin had always been a master of the resting bitch face.
"I could say 'I can't believe you didn't write a speech'...but we all saw this coming," she whined at him as she thrust them in his face, so annoying, always wailing like some stupid woman. "Now, don't fuck it up."
Yeah, because Rafail would ever fuck something up. Please. Perfection didn't make mistakes.
He squinted at her horrendously small and cursive handwriting on the three sheets of paper as he made his way onto the stage behind the headmistress and besides the other club presidents and chosen students who allegedly had something important to say. She was talking endlessly about new changes coming to the school in the new year, none of which he was the slightest bit interested in before, finally, she gave him the floor. Rafail stepped forwards, shuffling the pile of papers he'd been handed, trying to decide what parts seemed relevant. "Thank you for that delightful introduction, Headmistress Hart."
He could have sworn he heard Danae on the wings angrily murmuring something like "Principal!" at him.
"Look how far we've come. From childhood to young adulthood, everyone here today is discovering themselves in one way or another; and we are all aiding in each other's evolution, shaping each other into the successes we are someday due to become..." Gods, what was this drivel? Not only was Danae's handwriting nigh on impossible to read, but her words made barely any sense. And if Rafail Marikas, sheer genius that he was, could not understand them, he doubted the general student body would be able to do so. Skimming the rest of the page hurriedly, he noted it continued in such a manner, and that would not do. Some dull and nerdy speech would collapse his reputation quicker than anything else.
Rafail gripped the podium with both hands, grinning out at the crowd with the bright and charming smile he was sure made everyone love him and forgive anything they might deem even the slightest bit offensive. "I mean, some of us are already secured highly demanded and well-paying directorial jobs in Daddy's company because we're just worth it or the reassurance that we can get into whatever university our hearts desire, and some of us are still scrambling about trying to find any purpose. And some of us are just so devastatingly attractive we've been getting laid, mm, at least thrice weekly since freshman year and the rest of us are still virgins. Whatever." He shrugged, almost feeling as though this was an excellent point and ignoring the fact he could feel the headmistress's eyes practically piercing through the back of his skull. It was no matter, anyhow. If he said something wrong, Daddy would pay a tidy sum and all his problems would go away. "It's not my fault some of us are just fundamentally better than others, but I'm sure the rest of you will manage to at least try and catch up."
That seemed reasonable - no need for a speech to be longer than a couple of minutes.
"Party at mine after Friday's game, hm? No girls under a B-cup, no freaks." Rafail smirked out at them, winking and blowing a kiss at the masses, a little trademark if you would. Then once he was sure cheering and applause or anything of that manner had subsided, he turned away to sprawl himself back in his seat beside the next guy to speak, some weird kid on the honours program.
Glancing his way with only a mildly threatening expression before he too went up to the podium, Rafail hissed at the guy: "Don't show me up."
Pavlos, who was still loitering uselessly around the Marikas household - Rafail wasn't sure why he couldn't spend his time in the house Daddy had bought for him and his fiancée - had commented that no one cared how he looked and, anyhow, the masses of high school were hardly going to notice if his hair wasn't slicked back in just the right way.
"I doubt you would know anything about hair styling with that caterpillar you call a moustache," Rafail had answered, setting down his half-eaten hot chocolate croissant and rising from the dining table. Why he had opted to take meals in his dining room as opposed to the usual choice of his own room he had no idea. "I don't have time for this, I still have a headache from last night, and it's far too early. I loathe first days. Speeches." He scoffed, tightening the belt of his dark grey silk robe around him as he exited the room, only glancing over his shoulder once more to call out: "Oh, and if you have the chance, Pav, call Daddy's secretary and have her book me an appointment at the spa later. I'm too busy otherwise."
For the most part, Rafail made a habit of wearing those dark bespoke suits which so suited his complexion and frame but, alas, his education forbade it of him, no matter how often he had assured them that Daddy would pay an excessive sum to ensure his comfort in style of dress. At least the royal blue of the uniform blazer, with its golden accents and the contrast of the crisp white shirt and blue and gold silk tie looked marvellous on him. It was kind, one might say, of the school to have elected to use colour so complementary to him. Rafail selected a neatly ironed shirt in crisp white from the pile, fastening the cuffs easily with his set of golden owl cufflinks - so cute, an early gift for his eighteenth - and carefully adjusting the collar so that his carefully monogrammed initials were visible. The trousers were the same bright shade of deep blue and the classic Oxfords a black Testoni leather. For a school uniform, it looked as exceptional on him as it would have had he had the suit designed personally.
"Call the car out," he waved over at someone, gods be damned if he knew any of the staff's names.
With such an early wake-up (5.45 was nothing short of an atrocity) there was hardly time to plan his appearance as he might have wanted. The facial had been done the night before, and, now meticulously cleanshaven so that he might not suffer the same ludicrous facial hair that his brother had before him, all that remained was to slick his hair back and look stunningly superb.
It was only a fifteen-minute drive to the school, though it felt a fucking eternity as Rafail sat in the back of the Black Badge Wraith, drumming his fingers on the deep blue armrest. He ran over the options for his speech in his mind, having failed to write anything of use in preparation for this assembly because, honestly, what Marikas had the time to be writing his speeches? Rafail was almost sure Daddy didn't write the ones he gave at official functions every so often, although given that he was quite the workaholic - the youngest Marikas son had learned that much during his nightmarish internship at the family company earlier that summer - perhaps he did. Besides, Danae would probably have fussed enough over the occasion to have something suitable ready for him when he arrived: she had implied as much during the preceding week's open house.
School was a dark red brick building, tall and imposing and built in a style which might have reminded one of the late 18th century if one were architecturally inclined. Rafail was not, and he strolled through the crowd gathering out front with little interest, adjusting the strap of the Louis Vuitton messenger bag as he pulled it from his locker and swung it in the direction of the closest person who seemed exploitably vulnerable. "Put this in my locker. 525. Go, hurry up, I have a speech to give." In...five minutes. Urgh. Luckily, it looked as though Danae had not let him down (utter shock!) for she was hovering in the wings of the stage with the sheets of paper he could only assume were the speech, an irritated expression resting on her face, although it came as no surprise. His cousin had always been a master of the resting bitch face.
"I could say 'I can't believe you didn't write a speech'...but we all saw this coming," she whined at him as she thrust them in his face, so annoying, always wailing like some stupid woman. "Now, don't fuck it up."
Yeah, because Rafail would ever fuck something up. Please. Perfection didn't make mistakes.
He squinted at her horrendously small and cursive handwriting on the three sheets of paper as he made his way onto the stage behind the headmistress and besides the other club presidents and chosen students who allegedly had something important to say. She was talking endlessly about new changes coming to the school in the new year, none of which he was the slightest bit interested in before, finally, she gave him the floor. Rafail stepped forwards, shuffling the pile of papers he'd been handed, trying to decide what parts seemed relevant. "Thank you for that delightful introduction, Headmistress Hart."
He could have sworn he heard Danae on the wings angrily murmuring something like "Principal!" at him.
"Look how far we've come. From childhood to young adulthood, everyone here today is discovering themselves in one way or another; and we are all aiding in each other's evolution, shaping each other into the successes we are someday due to become..." Gods, what was this drivel? Not only was Danae's handwriting nigh on impossible to read, but her words made barely any sense. And if Rafail Marikas, sheer genius that he was, could not understand them, he doubted the general student body would be able to do so. Skimming the rest of the page hurriedly, he noted it continued in such a manner, and that would not do. Some dull and nerdy speech would collapse his reputation quicker than anything else.
Rafail gripped the podium with both hands, grinning out at the crowd with the bright and charming smile he was sure made everyone love him and forgive anything they might deem even the slightest bit offensive. "I mean, some of us are already secured highly demanded and well-paying directorial jobs in Daddy's company because we're just worth it or the reassurance that we can get into whatever university our hearts desire, and some of us are still scrambling about trying to find any purpose. And some of us are just so devastatingly attractive we've been getting laid, mm, at least thrice weekly since freshman year and the rest of us are still virgins. Whatever." He shrugged, almost feeling as though this was an excellent point and ignoring the fact he could feel the headmistress's eyes practically piercing through the back of his skull. It was no matter, anyhow. If he said something wrong, Daddy would pay a tidy sum and all his problems would go away. "It's not my fault some of us are just fundamentally better than others, but I'm sure the rest of you will manage to at least try and catch up."
That seemed reasonable - no need for a speech to be longer than a couple of minutes.
"Party at mine after Friday's game, hm? No girls under a B-cup, no freaks." Rafail smirked out at them, winking and blowing a kiss at the masses, a little trademark if you would. Then once he was sure cheering and applause or anything of that manner had subsided, he turned away to sprawl himself back in his seat beside the next guy to speak, some weird kid on the honours program.
Glancing his way with only a mildly threatening expression before he too went up to the podium, Rafail hissed at the guy: "Don't show me up."
[attr="class","ic_maintag"]@linos
[attr="class","ic_threadtype"]Private
[attr="class","ic_othertags"]Mihail of Thanasi @zoe
[attr="class","ic_ooc"]Permission from Maxie to GM Danae <3