Rough Draft

Mitsuru Rinchi (Bow)

I find that the best method of intimidation is not brute force or a bellowing shout. Sure, it may scare many people. However, I have a different way of scaring those around me. I don’t scream and shout or get up in anyone’s faces. I don’t immediately resort to violent tactics as soon as I don’t get what I want. If you really want to get the fear pumping through the veins of a human, it’s best to stay calm, composed and silent. But it’s all about the execution. If you do it wrong, then chances are, you won’t receive the results you were hoping for. You can never break your composure. You can’t smile, you can’t show sympathy and you can never ever break out of your stone cold exterior.
See, that’s the problem with most humans. They don’t know how to stay consistent with certain things. They’re all over the place, and have the attention span of a hyperactive puppy. In reality, they’re no different than any other animal you would find in a zoo. Behind every single diamond ring, cocktail dress or fancy tuxedo. Behind any classy, sophisticated upperclass citizen holding a glass of Glittering Gabriel at a big wedding, there is an animal who only craves one thing. That is dominance.
Most everyone will deny that they are like this, but let’s face the true reality of things. They are all like this. Every last one of them.
These creatures intrigue me. I find them entertaining and interesting to analyze. I love pushing their buttons to get priceless reactions out of them. I love digging deep inside those fragile little minds of theirs and finding out their most trecherous secrets. I take much enjoyment in watching them as they crumble slowly, ever so slowly right in the palm of my hand. They’re like precious roses. They are very pleasant to look at, and yes, they do have their thorns that if you are not careful, will pierce your skin open and make you bleed. But I can’t tell you how easy it is to pluck and cut those thorns off and reveal that underneath those pesky little blades is a delicate plant that is just too easy to destroy. I imagine humans just like those pretty little flowers I hold in my hands, but then, when they least expect it, I close my palms right over them and their remaining thorns because they do nothing to me. I mercilessly crush their frail forms and then drop them into the mud like the despicable nuisances that they are.
And because of my terrifying silence and collectedness, I don’t even have to try very hard in order to achieve my goals. People are just naturally fearful of me, and for good reason. When I walk right into one of the only pub’s in the city of Ignis, all eyes are on me. I almost smirk, because I can smell the terror radiating from everyone in this musty place. With both of my arms crossed over my chest, I take to a seat in front of the bar where the bartender is polishing off a scotch glass with on old dish towel. He looks at me with those tired and dead looking eyes of his. He doesn’t even bother asking what I want anymore. I’m in here all the time, and I always get the same thing. A simple whiskey on the rocks, my absolute favorite.
Within seconds, it is set down right in front of me by burly hands and I nod my head ever so slightly in silent gratitude. He nods back to me, and then gets back to work.
I don’t have any friends in this dead end city. I’m what most people would call a lone wolf. But I think this man comes the closest to being my friend. I don’t even know his name, but he knows mine.