Raelyse
07-16-09, 08:40 AM
closedIt’s never hard to distinguish an outsider. In a sea of homogenous characteristics, foreign traits are what separate the local from the foreigner. A country like Fallien, even in its comparative cosmopolitan capital of Irrakam, had almost a set of rules for what a person should be. Peer pressure existed everywhere to subliminally force local culture upon all those who visit. A glance that just lasts too long, whispers that are just a bit too loud and the most embarrassing of all, the visual aspect, the simple fact that if you don’t fit in, you’ll stick out like a sore thumb.
These pressures do not have as much effect when the subject of them has no self confidence and thus, cares little for the opinions of others. He does not want to fit in, because he sees their culture as inferior or strange. Thus, he does not care about what the locals think about him, because he sees them at such a lower level that they almost lack sentience in his eyes. He has this lens over his eyes because of an unwavering belief in himself, a strong sense that he is superior to all he sees.
He is Raelyse.
As he strides down a populated Irrakam street, he does not flinch at the attention he commands from the people of Fallien. He had expected it. In this matriarchal society, a man who stands tall, shoulders arched back and with confidence, authority and power in his every step is about as rare as snow. His silver hair shimmered like a daytime moon as it swayed in the blazing Fallien sun. His clothes were as outlandish to the locals as the rest of him. Raelyse wore a two piece suit, a type of clothing that was non-existent in this country for fashion and practical purposes alike. But despite the scorching temperature and the dusty road that he walked upon, the prince did not sport any blemish on his person or clothing, not even a single bead of sweat. In a land of sweaty, subservient men with little to no power, it was almost as if he was the last bastion of masculinity.
There was something off putting about Raelyse, an under boiling trait that all observers felt in their gut that prevented them from admiring his obvious wealth and exoticness. He was clean from well feathered hair to the glimmering black boots. His pale skin, untouched by the sun’s harshness, almost seemed to glow like an angel’s halo. But his expression prevented any form of purity to be in close association with him. Raelyse wore a condescending smirk across his face, so consistent that it almost seemed as if it were branded into his face. This man was too smug to be admired, but he carried himself with too much power to be confronted.
So the people of Fallien, with their first look of Raelyse, already had begun to hate him under their breath. A combination of jealousy, xenophobia and fear drove this animosity. They wondered why someone like this was here, why someone who would make no effort to fit into a society would travel all the way to their land just to look down on them as he walked through their streets.
Before the sun rose and set again, Raelyse thought to himself as he opened the door to his rented house. They would find out.
These pressures do not have as much effect when the subject of them has no self confidence and thus, cares little for the opinions of others. He does not want to fit in, because he sees their culture as inferior or strange. Thus, he does not care about what the locals think about him, because he sees them at such a lower level that they almost lack sentience in his eyes. He has this lens over his eyes because of an unwavering belief in himself, a strong sense that he is superior to all he sees.
He is Raelyse.
As he strides down a populated Irrakam street, he does not flinch at the attention he commands from the people of Fallien. He had expected it. In this matriarchal society, a man who stands tall, shoulders arched back and with confidence, authority and power in his every step is about as rare as snow. His silver hair shimmered like a daytime moon as it swayed in the blazing Fallien sun. His clothes were as outlandish to the locals as the rest of him. Raelyse wore a two piece suit, a type of clothing that was non-existent in this country for fashion and practical purposes alike. But despite the scorching temperature and the dusty road that he walked upon, the prince did not sport any blemish on his person or clothing, not even a single bead of sweat. In a land of sweaty, subservient men with little to no power, it was almost as if he was the last bastion of masculinity.
There was something off putting about Raelyse, an under boiling trait that all observers felt in their gut that prevented them from admiring his obvious wealth and exoticness. He was clean from well feathered hair to the glimmering black boots. His pale skin, untouched by the sun’s harshness, almost seemed to glow like an angel’s halo. But his expression prevented any form of purity to be in close association with him. Raelyse wore a condescending smirk across his face, so consistent that it almost seemed as if it were branded into his face. This man was too smug to be admired, but he carried himself with too much power to be confronted.
So the people of Fallien, with their first look of Raelyse, already had begun to hate him under their breath. A combination of jealousy, xenophobia and fear drove this animosity. They wondered why someone like this was here, why someone who would make no effort to fit into a society would travel all the way to their land just to look down on them as he walked through their streets.
Before the sun rose and set again, Raelyse thought to himself as he opened the door to his rented house. They would find out.