Men--my nemesis. Today I have to write from a man's perspective, and I find myself dreading having to do so. It's not that I can't write a male character; it's more that there are a lot of things going on with male anatomy that are simply different from women. That means that the way they move is going to be a little different. Also, men are generally raised in a different way than most women are, which I will admit that I find incredibly interesting. Why do we do that? Is it necessary? But more importantly, what does it change?
For example, most male children are expected to do things like play sports and own fast cars and ...*waves a hand* You get the stereotypes there, and I have to wonder why that's so. It seems to me that we've created an ideal for our society of "what men should be," and anything outside of that is called "problematic" or "unnatural". And I have to admit that I'm not a fan.
That said, ...I have no idea what having testosterone is like. Chemically speaking, men and women are hard-wired differently, and that's important to remember. I watched a TED Talk a while back about a woman who had had some brain trauma, and she and her doctors were having to synthesize a concoction of chemicals to simulate what should naturally be there. As it turned out, even small changes in the amounts of various chemicals could have extreme effects on how she felt, what she did, and what she thought about and wanted.
So when I say that I dread writing male characters, I mean more that I dread not portraying them in a realistic manner. And we, as writers, should really want to strive for realism. So, ...if I get this wrong, guys, I apologize. But perhaps you can offer some thoughts and insights on how I can make things better in the future.
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All right! So I took a day off to tackle my male issues, and today, I think I'm ready to get to work again. Let's see how this goes....
I took a page from the prompt (haha,) though Reliq's looking into his books and defeating his enemies is going to take a little longer than the scope of this story. We return again to John's and my book idea in today's story, and I hope you all enjoy it!
Relics of the Past
He watched as the people walked around him, never knowing that standing less than two feet away from them was one of the descendants of the Builders.
More like the destroyers, he thought to himself, never letting the frown of his thoughts touch his face as he purposefully made his way down the packed streets of Random.
Random was a city that thought itself at the heart of all things--a city built upon an island in the center of a river which wound its way about it on either side. Bridges spanned the river to let in people from both sides of it, making Random one of the noisiest, busiest trade cities along the Styx. It had had kings and queens to rule it from time to time, as well as councils and governments, but like the name of the city itself, its rulers never stayed the same for very long, some sort of revolution every few years or so. There was a saying in the other cities of Spheer: Whosoever can keep control of Random, they shall rule the world.
The city had settled on a council of guilds this time, and Reliq thought that it might actually last a few years longer than the others. But war would come, and the guilds wouldn't be able to hold off an army. It wasn't that Reliq could literally see the future, but he knew more about what was going on in the world than these people ever could, going about their daily lives with their own joys and troubles--never looking beyond the next few days or weeks.
Up above--where he came from--they were all ready planning Random's next iteration--as though they had the right to determine the fates of all the people of the world below.
Our ancestors couldn't have meant for this to last, Reliq thought once more, the frown finally finding his features as he turned a corner, stepping into a shadowed side street. This place wasn't much visited; older than the rest of the town around it, this was a place that no matter how Random changed, never did. Here stood the homes of the poor and the outcast--a realm ruled by greed and despair in equal measure. And this was where he had finally made his choice to go looking for the truth.
"Reliq! Stop!" Her voice called out to him, carrying through the columned gardens of Babylon. It was night, and the air was cool. The breezes carried the scent of night blossoms as it passed, and the moons caught the light, reflecting it back to them in white and amber hues. Below them was Spheer, the world their forebears had created after the God War, and she had told him that she'd finally found the missing pages of Grayne's journal--and what those pages had contained.
He couldn't help himself from doing as she wanted. She'd always had that effect on him; no matter what he knew or understood, she could always make him see it in a different light. And he valued that--more precious than all the power of the ruling houses combined. "It doesn't matter what one of the thirteen had to say, Maryn."
As he turned to look at her, he found his heart skipping a beat. She was breath-taking--brown hair that caught in waves around her face; green eyes that could say more with one look than any words ever could. Her skin was a soft olive, and her lips--lush and cinnamon and more expressive than ten other peoples' lips combined. Among the ruling families, she was considered the great beauty of their time. And she was promised to another.
"It matters," she said emphatically as she caught up to him, stopping near him in the shadowed dark. She smelled like cherry blossoms, he thought. She always smelled of cherry blossoms. "It has to. Surely the words of our ancestors should hold some weight with the council."
"And why do you think none of them have ever gone looking for those pages, Maryn? Why do you think Grayne's words were 'never found'?" He knew the reasons, even if she didn't want to believe it. But then, she still wanted to believe the best in others--even him.
She paused, staring up at him, lips parting for a moment before her gaze lowered. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to her--to drawn her close and hold her in his arms and never let her go. But it was not his place, and he was afraid that if once he did as he wanted, he might forever be tied to her--his soul along with his all ready stolen heart.
"I'm going to take it to the Council," she said after a moment, her tone touched with that stubborn confidence that won her so much admiration and love among their people.
"Maryn," he said softly, resisting that urge to reach out and touch her once more. Why couldn't she see? Why couldn't she understand? "The moment you bring his journal pages forward, they'll destroy them, and you along with them."
She did look up at him, then, her features slowly turning haughty and cold, anger caught in those usually-kind eyes. "Hah!" And then she laughed as she turned away from him before looking back at him with disdain. "They're not going to destroy me, Reliq. I'm one of their own, and unlike you and your family, my father is actually respected. He'll listen to me Reliq; they all will. They have to!"
She had stormed off then, back the way she'd come, her determined footsteps the last thing he'd heard of her, that angry determination the last look she'd ever shown to him in Babylon.
He paused in a shadowed alcove, buildings having grown up atop buildings there in the squalor of the city. And that was where he waited, knowing that in a moment more, she would open her door to those who had need. Even though she had so very little, she gave to the others around her freely. Even the crime lords didn't trouble her, some of them having come to her in their own times of need.
She grew herbs and made medicines for the sick and the dying, and though she could easily have plied her trade somewhere less dank and poor, her conditioning left her fearful of what lay beyond this alley.
It was agony, watching her day after day, sharing her smiles and her warmth with those who were so undeserving of it, but just as he couldn't have turned away from her back then, he couldn't stop watching over her now.
At night, when she'd shut her doors, he'd make his way through the shadows, leaving her little gifts; sometimes he left her seeds, and other times a pot, or once even, a ribbon scented with cherry blossoms. She called this bringer of gifts her guardian angel, and his own kindness had spurred the kindness of others in turn.
And yet, I couldn't protect her when she needed it most, he thought bitterly. I didn't stop her when I should have.
He knew her father visited from time to time, but he never stayed long. It had been he who had prescribed her conditioning even before she'd gone to the Council with her findings. And Reliq had only just found out what her father had done with Grayne's writings--buried them in a tomb among the ravages of War, here, in Spheer. This would be the last time he'd see her for a while--his hope that if he could return with the writings, he might be able to remove the conditioning; perhaps Maryn would remember, then, what her father had done to her.
Maybe then they could bring about the change she had wanted all those years past--whatever it was that Grayne's writings had revealed.
Leaning back against the stone wall, he sunk to the ground, a sigh passing his lips as he watched her open up her doors and begin the day for what was likely to be the last time in a long while for him.
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