Soth, or what was left of him after being ripped out of his body, made his way through the blue phenix gates. The water was up to his knees and his heavy clothing was already getting soaked when he just got it dried.
That dwarf finished washing his face and was making his way to the well. It was now his turn to wash his face. Well he would if he could. It was up to the child to wash his face into these ‘holy’ waters. Alone in the chamber Soth removed his face.
He, who was Red, stood alone in the chamber, holding the black mask in weak hands that would not stop shaking. He had caused so much trouble making all his companions walk back to this temple. He was eager to remedy the issue and stop being a giant burden to the party that he already was.
Staring into the glass clear water, he could see no sign of dirt or otherwise, just purity. Upon that purity was a putrid stain, his reflection. He saw himself in unwanted detail, red flesh that seemed to barely cling to the bone, lips rotted away to show yellow teeth. An eye socket filled with putrid growth and the other an eye still sat in his skull but sickly and distorted with unnatural color that almost seemed to glow. All of his ugly mug framed by the long black flimsy hair that he had left draped down and around his face.
He was revolted by what he saw and he couldn’t imagine how others would feel being forced to see such an abomination. Closing himself from the sight of himself, he dipped his head into the too clean water. Red has experienced being in water twice in his life, both were horrible. Not only was his mouth uniquely bad at keeping water out of his throat, but the water on the outside always found its way to the most soar and vulnerable flesh, stinging and burning him. His dip in the sea to avoid a metal dragon's fire was a parctically painful memory. Yet again, so was almost drowning just half a day ago.
Wait he did for the pain and discomfort, for the invasive drowning liquid to violate his throat, but it never came. A gentle touch to the irritable, a caress to the sore and a rejuvenation to the worn. He lifted his head from the water, its droplets streaming down his collar to embrace the rest of his turmoiled body. His body shivered, his thoughts ran dry as his mind was overwhelmed by the sudden lack of suffering. As his skin dried and his flesh was his again, his mind followed suit and was embarrassed realizing he just had been staring at a hall for an extended point of time. He quickly put the mask back on, he had wasted enough time.
Soth shuffled down the temple's halls, his boot swashing in the knee deep water. The light that found its way into the halls, refracted against the water giving the temple a proper ocean feel. By the time he got close to the well, the dwarf was already leaving the small corridor, stepping aside to allow him access. Enter he did with the calm and curtain step of death. Down the dark shadow hall he went, following the curve of the hall intel the well was in site.
“UNNNnnnCleeean!”
The wall turned and twisted as pitch black shapes pulled free of the wall. Soth took a step back and the masses returned to their two dimensional domains on the wall. He stook his foot out.
“Unnn-“
He drew foot back in and back out again multiple times watching the walls react with meta-mechanical exactness. He withdrew from the dark hall frustration hot on his steps. Exiting he was met with not only the dwarf but the half breed, lyric, for some reason she has fallowed.
“It doesn’t work, we need to move” Soth said with unrated sirtenty.
“It didn’t work? Didn’t you wash your face Eros?” Replied Lyric.
“You think I'm a liar?”
“…” Lyric didn’t reply to the accusation which was fair.
“Maybe it’s the mask, when it turns black your presence becomes… uneasy” she put it gently.
Soth wanted to rebuke but it could very well be the case, he himself was not loved by the gods. His very presence washed or not has to be the reseon, so what was the remedy? He could let Eros take center stage but fuck that asshole. No he will force the child to do it even if he didn’t want to. He could feel him shaking with anxiety already in the back of his mind.
“You may be right Lyric, such a simple solution I shall try it right away” Soth said to her with buried frustration before turning back to the black hall. When he reached the well room once more he ripped his face off with an angered huff.
He who was red was now alone in a very dark room with monsters that lived within the walls, waiting. Nope, nope nope! He slapped the mask back on but Soth just peeled away his face once more to Reds sorrow. He held the mask in shivering hands, stationary with uncertainty. Only after an extended period of fear feuled stillness did he bring up the courage to stick his tootsie out. There was no reaction, so he stomped his foot on the ground. There was still no reaction so he took a step, then another. He continued like this at a snail pace intel he was finally at the well.
He look down it’s infinit abyss and hefted up his offering. An assortment of valuables given to him by the party. He hefted the not heavy sack and sent it down for it to be consumed by the shadow. Nothing happens, why did nothing happen? Don’t tell me it has to have value to the individual not the value in the physical sense! Not the very same day he lost his bag!
Red collapsed onto the cold hard floor, was he doomed to be a burden for ever? No he did have something, he had two something’s. He had his arcane focus which was given to him by the patron god of his people, David. There was also the mask it self. But Losing any one of those things would make him useless to the party. He couldn’t function without any of them could he? Could he?
He look down at the mask, the mask made him useful and functional part of the party, but he can’t be eather without the temple's blessing.
He stood up and look over the well, the mask in shaky uncertain hands. At that moment the mask shifted into shades, one white, one black.
“What are you doing! This is my redemption!” Soth screamed.
“Damn you, I’m the chosen one, my apostles need!” Eros screamed in his other ear.
“Your right I’m sorry but.. but..” Red whimpered
“Your selfish child! This not about you! Your just going to throw me away after all I have done for you? You are creature of Tiamat essence you need to be in check!” Soth yelled, his voice threatening to shatter Reds ears.
“You're a demon, a plague upon this world, a curse to MY apostles! You deserve to die, to be cast aside, not me!” Eros screamed righteously.
They were right, so right. He wasn’t strong enough to do this, to live without them, better men. He closed his one eye in sorrow, a plea echoed in his mind to something greater for strength he did not have.
In that place of places something answered, claws slid down his arm and hooked around his fingers. He could only feel the claws but not see them, but that didn't make them any less powerful as they pried one finger from the mask, one by one. The claws did it with no kindness or empathy, like a stern hand of a father and before Red could even think of risiting the claws, the mask was free.
It tumbled down and hit the inner side of the well, tilted at the edge and slowly tumbled into the well's mouth. Red reached out and managed to grab the mask with just two fingers. He held the mask with all the strength he could muster through his fingers, but they faltered. The mask slipped from his finders and into the abyssal mouth of the well.
Before it was completely consumed it stilled, like a ship on a shadowy sea. It slowly began to crack, the different shards taking the color of either white or black. As it fractured different colors. Green and blue, what could have been. Then it finally shattered completely, energetic sparks of light flying from well, generated by cooped up magic within. The small magic motes slammed into Eros and he was brought to his knees.
For the first time in a long time, he was once again alone and there was no hiding. As responding to the claim, the power within whispered of an arcane mask he could weave himself. Latching onto the offer, he wove a face to wear, a face of a proper young elf, the face of his brother.
On shaky legs he stood and made his way out of the shadowy room. What he did not see as he exited was a new mural on the wall. Two men pulling and fighting for a familiar mask. One man is a tyrant with a broken crown and covered in false idols. The other a knight with a broken sword, armor rusted and ruined.