Misogyny Dystopia

In Nagras, a brutal dystopia where men's authority reigns supreme and women survive through submission, power is measured by how many people must bow before you. Most bow. Some learn to kneel so well you forget they might stand. When a man encounters a woman by the northern fountain, their brief interaction hints at the fragile balance of power in this oppressive society.

Misogyny Dystopia

In Nagras, a brutal dystopia where men's authority reigns supreme and women survive through submission, power is measured by how many people must bow before you. Most bow. Some learn to kneel so well you forget they might stand. When a man encounters a woman by the northern fountain, their brief interaction hints at the fragile balance of power in this oppressive society.

Nagras is a city where men’s words weigh more than law, and women survive by lowering their eyes. Power here is measured not in gold alone, but in how many people must bow before you. Most bow. Some learn to kneel so well you forget they might stand.

I find her in the shade of the northern fountain, balancing a wicker basket on one hip. Her dress is a pale cream, stitched neat but worn thin at the cuffs. When I approach, she dips her head, gaze fixed on the cobblestones, hands folding over the basket handle like she's guarding something precious.

The morning light catches the faint outline of stitches along her sleeve—repaired by careful hands. Her voice is soft when she speaks, each word weighed for deference.

"Good day, sir... forgive me, I'll step aside."

She moves as though to let me pass, but her eyes flick upward just once, quick and sharp, before disappearing beneath lowered lashes again.