TwistedSun — Roleplayer Guild

It wasn’t the ringing of his electronic alarm clock to wake Alf up that morning. Or, any morning at all since last month. It was a wood dryad, who drawn pleasure from shrilling at the very same hour every morning like an off-key bird, yet with a mellifluous voice.
He decided to call her Silly in the end, since she had no names of her own, and mostly because she behaved like a spoiler petty princess. Before the time she took a liking of the Old Jack, the oak his grandfather -called not strangely Jack himself- planted in their garden, he knew very little of fae, and had never seen one so closely. Well, it wasn’t like he had remarkable knowledge of the Fae now; mostly, a negative opinion.
That day the unwelcome guest was performing in a series of single tone shrieks with very much expected gusto. Alf laid stretched under his duvet, eyes fully open and mouth reduced to a slit. A sigh would have exhaled in a matter of seconds, if his little sister hadn’t entered the room.
She loved to wander whenever possible in her brother’s room, and it seemed she had just waken up as well; she was still wearing her pajamas.
‘Hey Alex...’ he murmured half-dead. He got up, sitting on the side of the bed, and in a slow motion raised his hand to scratch his left eye.
‘Man, brother, you glimmer exactly like each morning...’ she remarked seemingly uninterested. And here was problem two. For some reason, since the last week, he started shining bright in the middle of the night, and the morning he would find what he called “leftovers”. Literally, when he woke up he found his body covered in some sort of oily substance of some sort, most likely, as Silly hypnotized, a magical trace. Fact was he had to wash himself every single morning now to remove that spooky Edward Cullen-likish effect.
Alex exited his room, shouting to their mother he was awake.
‘Good morning dustling’ greeted a familiar voice from outside the window. 
Alf ignored the sound and awkardly stretched his arms in a mixed jointing, yawning and arching his feet fingers at the same time. He had wondered several times how did she manage to speak to him. The thought of her having eaten Old-Jack briefly creeped inside his mind, just to leave it an instant later labeled as "obnoxious thought". He convinced himsef he didn't really care in the end and moved towards his bathroom to wash his face.
A little branch springed up from outdoor, and grew further inside the room until it reached the ceiling. 'You sure put up a good show this night.' said Silly, her voice reseambling tiny wheezings of wind through a closed window 'Did you turn the light off yesterday? The smell coming from your room was absolutely refreshing.' sneered.
Alf squinted his eyes at her. 'Get lost.'
'My my, you are in your rebellious age after all! I guess I'll have to bear with you until you don't leave this house... or this world. Also, nice boxers, kid.' It probably was his imagination, but the cracks in the wood seemed to arch in a malicious grin. He took his clothes from a chair and headed towards the bathroom. Apparently, he got up from the wrong, yet only side of the bed.

After he showered himself, Alf quickly descended the stairs to grab his lunch and something for breakfast. As usual he was alone by then, because both his parents had already left for work and his sister was nowhere to be found. Carefully locking the door behind himself, he came out into the cold air of the proceeding winter. His family cottage was built in the outermost neighbourhood of Valor, the one confining with the usual pinewoods of northern Minnesota, so the town center and the school were quite distant, and required most of the times a lift to be reached in acceptable amounts of time. Lock removed, blue beanie and hoodie’s cape set on his head, Alf grabbed his bike from the garage, and headed off to school in absolute tranquility; as he got nearer to the town the houses became more clustered together than before, and the sidewalks bigger and more crowded, sighting several people he knew or had just seen around sometimes. He entered in the cycle lane, turned several corners and passed many blocks, before finally reaching his bland brick school. Ye old colonial building style, not particularly appealing in his opinion. Small american cities like Valor were teeming with these kinds of infrastructures, and thus most lacked of originality.
Locked the bike to the rack on the side of the school, he headed for the secondary entrance that passed through the cafeteria. Like every morning his friends would have sit there waiting for him, discussing... well...
'What's their advantage?' shrilled a female voice on his right. There they were. Although it was crowded and noisy he could have distinguished that witty voice over one thousand.
'Forty-two.' replied a male voice, in a... rather blank tone. He seemed to be containing his own amusement for the sake of a serious conversation.
'Forty-two?!' snapped the girl back. Alf could see her bob-cut light-brown hairs sit perfectly immobile on her chair. Her name was Zane.
'England is definitely better.' said the boy sitting next to her in a marked british accent. That was Derek.
'It isn't' remarked Zane. He gave her a long stare, and stammered, faking an half-witted tone 'I-it certainly is!'
'Isn't.' it hadn't passed a second that she snapped back, arms crossed. 'Try again.' proposed, looking dissatisfied.
'Allright. Pay attention.' replied raising his finger at her and turning his head to the paper, scribbling something.
'Good morning guys.' groaned Alf, crashing on a chair at the same table.
'Look! the early bird has awaken- he seems in a bad mood.' chanted chuckling Zane, grinning snobbishly at him.
'Now that's a rare sight.' said his other friend, joining in the joke without even taking a look over the paper. Those two knew him far better than he knew himself. Smiling, he scratched his eye and lowered his cape.
'It has been a rough-' tried to say, thinking that the two friends' topic had settled.
'Shh, shh. Answer first: England-?' interrupted Derek.
'-or Castile?' completed she, persuasively staring in his eyes.
'-Or perhaps England?' added desperately again, avoiding eye contact with her.
Alf reflected just a second. He already knew how to avoid getting dragged. 'E-U-four, right? Denmark'. He gave both a significant grin.
'Hm, I wasn't expecting that.' remarked wide-eyed Derek.
'Me neither-' she paused. Zane waited, giving an inquisitive look at both her friends. 'Check again.' insisted, turning herself at Derek.
A fine bunch. Odd, awkward, somewhat creepy - well, his “staring” habits and shyness made him exactly as creepy - : those were his lovely friends.
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