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 everything was great until the fire nation attacked, yb vs mars
honey nut yurios · 15 · Fifth · A.E.G.I.S · Halfblood · 5'8"
Gryffindor Beginner
Awards: 23

Mar 3 2018, 09:00 PM   Link Quote
Handing power to somebody like YB Yoo was like throwing a lit match into a fireplace, and then being surprised when the fire would ignite. He was a loose cannon, one slight movement from letting go and exploding. Fire was something that was commonly associated with the Gryffindor boy, its destructive ways and uncontrollable nature, with the way it harmed everything it touched. He was calamitous, a walking hazard with his cinnamon coloured eyes always fixated in a glare and darting around like guilt was what weighed down so heavily on his shoulders. His palms were well acquainted with his fingertips, nails digging into the scarred skin on a daily basis; playing with fire always got you burnt. YB's skin was always rough, nerves practically fried, but it made his random acts of violence more tolerable. He was a flame, flickering bright before fizzling out at the slightest drop of water. Unreliable. That's what the Korean boy was - amongst many other things - but he revelled in his spontaneity if you could even call it that. His stepmother would use different words, ones that hurt him a lot more, but it wasn't like he would ever let down his armour enough to ever demonstrate how much damage it did. 'Mistake' was a common one, though YB couldn't argue against that. Being the product of an office affair between the boss and the employee never really led to planned children... this wasn't some television show, but was it even real life?

Prefect duty was unexpected, something that had caused carob brown eyebrows to raise close to his hairline, a laugh that would sound bitter by bubbling in his chest, the corners of his lips twitching. It must have been some kind of joke. People like YB didn't deserve positions of power. What part of walking-talking safety hazard did nobody understand? A rare smile would always grace his features, like a wolf that had finally caught up with its prey, smug with the way it had trapped the innocent animal. With the faintest smile on his features, he feigned innocence; this was going to work to his advantage. Giving an anarchist power... what sort of catastrophe were they hoping for? The entire school to burn down? Well, to be honest, that was likely. YB didn't deal well with responsibility - it was as if it was against his programming, the ingrained and the innate processes that made him who he was. It definitely came with its perks though, which the Gryffindor boy was more than happy to exploit to his every whim and desire. Being able to give detention to whoever he pleased, especially those who irritated the everlasting daylights out of him, and there was the bathroom. Large and expansive in its design and decor, it reminded him vaguely of his home back in Seoul, where the boundaries of his life stopped at the front door, with his nose pressed right up against the window, a firm pout on his bottom lip.

Sometimes, just being able to go where he wanted still felt so strange to him. YB was now allowed to go wherever he pleased whenever he pleased, and he answered to nobody. Only himself. He didn't need anybody but himself. Going to the bathroom was like a little sanctuary for himself, if only for a while. It had become one of the many hiding places the boy kept dotted around the castle, though he was most likely going to keep this one, even when his term as Prefect would end. Walking in and seeing somebody else there was definitely a mild surprise, like an electric shock being passed through his body by his forefinger, causing the hairs on his arm and the back of his neck to stand on end. Then, his eyes narrowed, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip before he tilted his head up, turning his nose to the ceiling. "Yah, can't you read? This place is for prefects only, or are you being deliberately thick?" YB's words were ice cold as he slammed the door behind him with a push of his hand, the sound ricocheting through the tiled room like a bullet from a gun. The fifteen-year-old was unfazed, undeterred. He had power now, authority. What a disaster. What was going to stop him now? "Maybe I need to spell it out for a 백치 like you." One pause. "Get. Out." Territory was important, especially to a lone wolf with its hackles raised and teeth pulled back in a snarl.

@Martín Marzán
백치 = idiot

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