"Don't slouch, Uriel. Have some manners," A tall lady scolded, red lips moulding a venomous tone as she eyed her son across the vast plain of the table.
"Yes, Mother."
"Do not slurp, Uriel, the mere sound makes my head ache," a pale faced man scowled opposite Uriel, rebuking even before said male even inched a finger.
"But I didn't even-"
"Do not talk back to your father," he temperamentally grimaced, massaging the bridge of his nose. Barely two minutes fluttered away, the impregnable silence broken by the belittled boy.
"Can I- um, can I be excused? I have lots of homework to do," Uriel timidly enquired, pushing his seat back marginally. His mother eyed each and every detail the tall boy had to offer, before scowling.
"You've left your steak untouched; we went through great lengths to acquire such meat. You dare leave it?" the woman probed, challenging his son.
"I just really need to finish this binomial homework, I-"
"And yet, you bring home Fs and Us every term. Enlighten me, are you doing your homework, or do I need to take away that- what even is that thing? That little virtual toy of yours?" the pale man impatiently cut in, hands tapping against the lignum table.
"What? I already promised I'd work harder, I got a D last time!" Uriel floundered, chestnut tresses bouncing with his every movement.
"Butler, escort this boy to his room," the woman sighed, finalising tone bellowing through Uriel's bones. With a bow, the butler scurried over, walking the sulking boy up the quartz stairs.
If you couldn't quite grasp it just yet; Uriel had more than a few pennies in his pocket.
Far more.
Money that could buy a luxury hotel six times over, and still have enough to frivolously spend without regrets. More money than anyone could dare to imagine. Even then, he still wanted more. He didn't hate to admit it; he loved it, in fact. Not a single finger had to be lifted, and everything could be given to him on a glimmering golden platter.
He is the winner. Trying, or not, whether he likes it or not, playing genuine or dirty, he wins. He controls anything and everything, and didn't need to worry nor care. Why should he bother plaguing his mind as such?
He dashed towards his room, slamming the oak door in the elderly butler's face, yet he remained unfazed. It was a fairly normal occurrence, this scenario. Someone as entitled and impudent as him only became this way thanks to his parents' handiwork. Bouncing on his plush bed, he reached for the headset, along with one of many the game cards he bought a few days back. Well, his parents bought.
His parents were brilliant actors, ones who amused the role of the worrisome guardian. Yet, beyond the great automatic doors, and past the indoor fountain, and into their main lounge, the couple sat on the velvet couch removed their rose-tinted masks, as their great big smiles reduced to a downturn in their eyebrows and lips. All they wanted was to look good. And that, they did. If they had to bribe a few universities with money and a good rating, so be it. No one cared enough to object.
He decided to play a game he brought home just yesterday. 'Parvaneh', it read. The word for butterfly, in Persian. Ironic, since this game was anything but delicate. It contained quests, battles, homes, everything that could spark Uriel's interests. A game that jests reincarnation. Maybe that's why it's called Parvaneh; after all, butterflies represented spiritual rebirth. Not that he'd need it. He fully believed with his heart and soul, that he'd become the best player on there within two weeks tops. And maybe he would, one way or another.
He gazed just in front of him, a painting of heavenly bodies bathing in the dusky sky gazing right back at him intensely. Looking back at the headset, he sighed.
The brown haired boy slid the headset atop his head, already loathing the feeling of the cold metal grazing his forehead.
Couldn't they put a heater in it, or something?
An unfamiliar sensation overtook his body, as he felt the warmth of his bed anesthetise into nothingness. An absent feeling, void of any sensation. Eyelids feeling heavy, they batted open, surprised that he could feel his virtual body at all. Squinting his eyes, he briefly looked around, unimpressed.
"Is this it..?" Uriel squinted, scoffing. "Is this what all the hype's about? The sky could be bluer, or the ground could be groundier," Uriel scoffed, kicking the ground. A white bearded man cloaked in royal blue approached him, signalling him to trail behind him with the simple flip of his finger. Running to follow the AI character, he doubled over in fatigue, watching his stamina bar hit zero. Groaning in frustration, he just walked.
"Are we there, yet?"
"Be patient, young adventurer!"
"I don't fucking care. How much longer?"
"Be patient, young adventurer!"
Uriel grumbled again. "Of course, the response is bloody automated."
Vibrant, vivacious trees wavered in the breeze that Uriel could've sworn he felt on his cheek, still bewildered at how he could feel anything in a virtual body. After the unhurried stroll, the elder man simply pointed to a little building to guide Uriel, before throwing a crystal into the atmosphere, and vanishing into thin air. Utterly baffled, he just stared at the spot the man used to be in. He simply assumed he teleported. He chose not to care, and pushed the door of the cosy building open.
A boutique-esque setting surrounded by makeup, clothes, and wigs was presented before Uriel. The average person would gleefully cheer across the room, but of course, Uriel wasn't quite as simple as that. He silently cringed, not wanting to be near an ounce of makeup, be it virtual or real. He had his 'masculinity' to defend. A shorter, youthful AI bounced in his vision, clapping excitedly.
"Welcome! Here, we will be designing your avatar! Please tap the crystal to your right to view your reflection!" the small lady beamed, her bowl cut Prussian blue hair and short shorts flowing despite the lack of wind. He just shrugged it off as a cool effect. Unenthusiastically, he tapped the emerald green crystal, leaping backwards in utter fear when a mirror popped into view. No, he wasn't particularly scared of the mirror materialising out of thin air - he was much more concerned with the image reflected in it.
A pale, mint green skin tone was blemished yellow, lips tinted a pretty pink, bald head shining beneath the piercing boutique lights. "What the..? I look like a damn troll!"
He hastily tapped all sorts of weird and wonderful buttons, only panicking more when he grew a four foot long beard out of nowhere. Releasing a chunky gruff, he breathed lowly, sprawling his eyes across the screen. Finding a reset button, he hurriedly pressed on it, as all stiffness flooded out of his joints upon witnessing his original figure. Sharp, uneven eyelids coating his strident black orbs, his tall nose hovering atop his rounded lips, all worn on his golden skin. Wavy chestnut hair brushed his forehead, reaching just above his eyes. The constellation of moles dotting the bridge of his nose and under his eye resurfaced, eliciting a sigh of relief. He decided against changing his avatar, even by the slightest smidge.
"I'm too flawless to change shit. Let me leave, little birdie," Uriel declared.
Stumbling out of the store, he used one of the three free teleport crystals given to him as a welcome gift to zap him into the lobby. Chucking it into the air to activate it, he felt the world materialize around him. He actually felt it; no matter how much he complained, beyond his conscience he knew he would never get used to feeling this world. It was already the evening in this game, much in line with his own timeline. The stars were dotted across like white ink blocks, spiralling into galaxies. He peered at the glittering galaxies, remembering the painting in front of him. He silently whispered to them.
"How ugly."
He triumphantly walked up to the launchpad, bumping into whatever and whoever, not necessarily caring. His eyebrow raised upon skimming through the board, smirking as he took notice of the Battle Royale. There were an array of teams joining, all in teams of six; apart from one. A lone player, with stats higher than anyone could imagine, though Uriel reckoned he could beat those 'weak numbers' in a few days. They go by the name of 'Blue', which already had Uriel convinced that that person was a twelve year old.
"What a gay name."
Having a victory complex didn't help his already unlikeable personality, but having questionable morals, too? Not exactly ideal, but he did he really seem like the type to spare a care?
I bet this minx feels all high and mighty going solo, he silently thought to himself.
"In that case, I will too," he grinned forebodingly.
A shrill shriek of a bull echoed from the tree trunks of the dense forest, as Erin's ears perked lightly in interest. Raising his head from the bush he hid in, he heard the bellows of a boy - a rather loud one, at that. So loud, his own prey scurried away in fear. Mentally sighing, Erin got up from his bush, irely hopping towards the source of the sound sagaciously."Fucking stay still, you mutated excuse for an orgasm!" a boy fought verbally, as the exceptionally large bull tried to charge into his body."I think you mean, organism," Erin bluntly corrected, as he mentally typed in the chat. Emerging from the tree behind the boy, he activated his mask to hide his face, lean figure lightly stepping towards him. The virtual message swiped into the boy's vision, indicating he's opened and read it.Do I help, or do I kill? Erin considered in his cognisance."Am I in a spelling class, yo
The deafening sound of nothingness loomed its way past every floating particle of air, an elegant breeze fondling Erin's sunken skin, and right there and then, he could've sworn he was the most at peace right now than he's ever been in years. "It's already been so long." A sigh he didn't know he released reverberated in his ears. "Hm." It's been a while since his hospitalisation. Since his own flesh and blood betrayed him, exhaling him like smoke in the air. It was that easy for them, and it hurt Erin a little less, day by day. No matter how little it shrunk to hurt, it would never reduce his hatred for even leaving Gihyun behind. The Sun meets the Moon at all hours of the day, never missing the chance to beam at each other - we are all under the same stars, Moon, Sun; yet, we are all so vastly beyond the word different, so very unalike. The inky moonlight commenced its grand return, cradling
"What were you doing talkin' to the hacker?" a random player asked, sharpening his sword simultaneously."It's none of your fucking business," V glared at the seemingly slightly elder player."Woah, no need to get defensive," the player murmured, eyes wavering here and there, everywhere apart from his face. "But, he's really good; like, insanely good, you know? I wouldn't go after him, especially since you're solo," he warily suggested."Piss right off, why don't you? You're a waste of my time," V pierced a hole into the player's now wide eyes, not even bothering to stutter a sentence before he messily jogged away to his teammates.A familiar head of bowl-cut blue hair flicked into the midnight sky, as the AI leaped and soared across the terrain. As she fluttered across the terrain, her flamboyant voice boomed out a speech. "Welcome, players! This is the Parvaneh Battle Royale; a place to sprea
"My voice is ugly." V didn't know what to say. He shrugged, feeling a tinge of something unfamiliar ascend from his stony layers. His lips scrunched into a small grimace, as he faced the other direction. "Don't be dramatic." "I'd rather not." "Do you honestly think I give one? Just keep it on," V said absently. Erin's eyes spat insults that his mouth couldn't. His voice was soft. And to some extent, Erin himself didn't mind it, but with what is very statistically likely, potentially, a prepubescent sat across him, it wouldn't make the night any easier to manage. It's not like he'll see him after today, or ever again by the end of this month. What a beautiful advantage. Definitely outweighed out the cons. He flicked around his fingers, tapping whatever button he needed to on his hovering menu. "Mic's on. Happy?" V r
Awakening from his battle, Erin saw his dear brother tightly clutching his hand, asleep on a chair beside him. Chuckling slightly, he wriggled his hand out of the grip, ruffling the younger's hair cheekily."Wake up, sleepy," Erin fondly cooed.Stirring in his sleep, his eyes began to flutter open, smacking his lips distastefully. He craned his neck upwards, and Erin watched any ounce of drowsiness present in his body completely eradicate. He couldn't help but beam at Gihyun."Erin! You're back, how was it?" he excitedly inquired, loud and clear.He laughed. "Shh, headache. It went...really, uh, quite good," he noted, then eyeing his brother. "Oh? You got your hair cut," he chuckled, ruffling his brother's hair. "This cut suits you well, Hyunnie," Erin praised, happy to see his brother happy."Thanks, but, Rin, you all good? You seem a little weird.""Gooder
A day might've passed, or a week. Uriel trudged down the stairs and wormed his way into the dining room. "Ah, good to see you, Uriel," his mother blandly muttered in a forged sophisticated tone, setting a plate of king prawns and carbonara against the firm table. Bowing lightly to his mother, he sat down alone, forking a prawn. "Don't eat too much, we will be visiting the Kwons for dinner." "Hm, what for?" "Marriage to their eldest daughter." He inhaled his water far too sharply, causing tiny sprinkles of it to dot around his mouth. "Pardon, what? Again, already? I thought we're meeting them later. I'm not getting married, I just barely turned nineteen!" "Remember who you're raising your voice at, boy. Do not forget who raised you. We are going, and that is final. Should you wish to object, then leave this household and all the items we purchased for you," she
When you're constantly confined into suffocating whirlpools, and never ending bottomless spirals, floating above those waves and soaring against them feels like a dream so out of reach. A peculiar fantasy. For some, anything is ever so simple to overcome, but many others frantically struggle to breathe, gasping for air, when you're not even drowning. The shrinking pool of ragingly deep oceans, physically non-existent, yet, why do some people feel a lump in their throat? Some call this intense feeling chronic demons, some call it fleeting emotions.What appeared to parade as a silent night was in fact the loudest night of Erin's life, for the more quiet it became, the more his inner thoughts screeched and clawed at his brain. His chest tightened marginally, as his hysterical mind clutched his throat ever so gently. Those superficial spirals seemed inevitable as they only grew tighter and deeper, locking Erin in its terrifyingly firm hold. They strove to suffocate
"Good morning, Erin. I see you've slept well," the same nurse from earlier chirped, brightening his day, just a tad. No nurse could burn as bright in the dimmest of rooms as she did, for she was one of those rare glistening gems who inflicted an unmatched calibre of love for her job, even Erin. It was a bond similar to a distant aunt and nephew, which Erin truly treasured.Erin himself wore a smile, despite the dull ache in his thin cheeks. He arose as if the ongoing saga of bruises didn't cling to his back, as if he wore the same sickly smile every single day of his life. Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe that's a bad thing. Erin can't decide. "Morning. What shot is it today?" Erin enquired, readying his arm for his usual dose of medicinal drugs.She had a yellow glint in her round eyes, pushed into thin lines as she squeezed a smile through her plump cheeks."Actually, surprise! I threw on a few bits of cash to pay for