The Boy With a Fairy on His Head

by DemonicPiano

In an alternate colored world, society is very closed, arts are condemned, and rampant apathy is a part of everyday life. A young boy, Oliver Kirkland, lives a sheltered life with his mother until she is branded for murder of his father, perhaps rightfully so. He will then have to take a step into the scary world, find his place, and strive to improve society as a whole.

1. Prologue

Author's Note- This story is a (huge) companion fic to one of my others, 'It's a Beautiful World.' In later chapters, there is a converging point between the two stories, but with different view points. HOWEVER, you do NOT need to read that fic to understand what's going on with this one.

This story is 2p centered, and will contain OCs with decent-sized roles. Ew, yeah, I know, OCs, but hopefully there's no 'ew' with this fic. I tried to make them various and reasonable, so take a chill pill and enjoy yourself. Also, that beautiful and A+ fic picture is from my own hand. Sorry if you're on mobile.

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Prologue

With a weary sigh, an old man settles into a bench facing a field of luxurious blue grass. Some children run to and fro, shrieking in delight at their games as their parents look on with fond gazes. The warm orange sun entices the man to close his eyes, letting the sounds of birdsong and play fill his ears. He allows his head to tip back, sleepy from the warmth, but only for a moment before he straightens up again, hastily apologizing to seemingly nobody.

A hand runs through his hair, hints of its youthful luster peeking out from the disturbance. His eyes follow paths unseen, side to side, as one circled around his head. He grins, swishing a palm as if a bug buzzed too close to his face. Some of the kids, curious, sneak closer, perhaps hoping for an elder's story. A lone old man on a park bench was always full of things to say.

His grin widens, welcoming the children's shy smiles and uncertain steps. At an inaudible prompt, the man confirms the request, wondering what kind of story that is wanted from him. The kids watch the elder listen to the breeze, peeking at him behind the gray trees. His frazzled eyebrows lift in surprise, catching something they did not.

Bashful, the old man skirts around the specific call, claiming he has so many other things he could dote on other than that. The children glance at one another, wondering what he was talking about, and to whom. With encouragement, the elder lets off a big sigh, as if greatly endowed with troubles, but a hint of a flattered smile peeks pass the grumpy scowl. He lets up, turning his face to the sky, losing the present with a distant gaze. The kids creep closer as he collects his thoughts, slightly startled as he exclaims, knowing exactly were to begin.