9 The Mask, Worn for Others

There is a certain pressure felt by seeing. Even if you yourself cannot know, you can always feel pinpricks of hair on the back of your neck stand when someone watches. An itch in the base of your skull. How can it be possible to know when oneself is being watched, if sight is a weightless thing? It's simple.

The eyes are a window to the soul, and a window goes two ways.

—————————————

The sunset behind the cobweb-coated window, frosted by dust. Cushions filled with concrete, bedsprings digging into my back through the fabric, a thin sheet providing any cover from the frigid air. The weight of soaked bandages around my stomach was noticeable, but not as much as the burning glare digging into my face.

Sitting up, I sighed. The bed sighed as well under my weight, the rotted frame threatening collapse.

"Is there an issue?"

I asked the source of this venomous look, Devyn. During our fight, I had expected and prepared for injury, but I didn't believe he was uncouth enough to attack a lady's face. With my mask broken, it was better to fake weakness and faint from my 'injury' to stop any immediate questions. Unfortunately, he had enough of a posh upbringing to know medicine and anatomy well and saw it fit to take me to an old house hidden in nearby woods to treat my wounds. Due to his decision, he immediately noticed something was wrong.

"'Is there an issue', OF COURSE, THERE'S A- gods and goddess above, and hells, how are you even walking?!"

It made sense for his shock. Most of my body was covered in rotten skin, the sickly sweet scent of the dead rising from the wounds.

"Well, I am not one to share personal information for free. Perhaps I'll trade, if you explain the reasons for your relationship with your father?"

I remarked with a grin. At the mention of his father, he flinched. Obviously a sore spot, but at least poking at it would get him off my back. Standing up, I examined the remains of the mask I had worn previously. The left of it was in too many pieces to count, but the luck of the gods had allowed the right half to remain almost completely unscathed.

"You... are suspicious as all hells. I swear to the fucking heavens, if you're some black ibis asshole who's trying to work into my wallet or something, I'll kill you."

Devyn grumbled. It seemed I lost most of what little trust I had gained a foothold on, yet another disappointing outcome of his unexpected behavior.

"Devyn, Devyn, Devyn. You know, we only met just recently. You shouldn't think a near-stranger suspicious just because you never spoke, correct? I can assure you I have no relation to this... Ibis, but I can't exactly explain my situation anymore than you can yours. Let us simply agree we are both under the strings of your father, and work on a simple job so we may reach our goals."

I spoke with a soft grin, placing the unbroken half of the mask on my face.

"To speak of simple jobs, before we left for our... conversation, I managed to get my hands on a request."

Taking out an envelope from the cloak I had worn earlier, I placed it on a dusty table by Devyn's side.

—————————————

The letter I had grabbed explained the job in some detail.

"Bandits have been attacking any caravans we send out, and we recently heard a rumor that they're organizing to target us directly! Please destroy their camp, and either kill or catch the bandits who live there!"

The requestor is a merchant, if it wasn't evident from the letter. With how small the bandit group is, it was marked low on the radar of many of the higher groups, mostly for the small pay. You'd think someone in danger of being killed would fork out a larger price, but instead, they listed the pay as 'advertisement' along with a few tens of silver coins.

"Valore Thawecliffe, huh...? Makes sense, fucker's cheap as shit, overreacts a ton too. I'd have few doubts if someone told me that these 'bandits' are just some kids with knives."

Devyn sighed, placing the opened letter back down on the table.

"Well, I'd say as a merchant, his offer of 'advertisement' is a bit more valuable than you place it as."

Izivel explained. He wasn't sure what to think of her, especially after seeing her situation. Did his father offer a cure? Devyn couldn't identify what sort of illness it was, or whether it was a curse or not. He supposed knowing something that had no record in any medical books he read was a good way to get someone as powerful as her on his side. If he still had his crystal ball, he would have been able to ask his father directly, but unfortunately, he had 'lost' the only one he had on hand.

"You seem to know about this sort of thing. Well, I can't say aren't right. He does have a few connections, but no small part of them are exactly great. I don't think it's a great idea to let him have our names."

As did many of the successful in Genkai did, Thawecliffe was intertwined with Black Ibis. He was sure he'd get paid plenty to share the location of himself, and knowledge of Izavel as a bonus. He still believed her to be connected to Ibis as well, too many things lined up strangely. His thoughts were interrupted by a prickly feeling on his neck, the devil herself holding her eyes on him unblinkingly. It made him uncomfortable, how no light seemed to be reflected in her glazed stare, like a doll's button eye. How she never seemed to change her blank grin to any other expression.

"Well, personally as long as our names spread, I believe it will be beneficial. You still hold use for me, so as long as you hold the name Ciadil, I can assure you that your life will remain intact, as well as the rest of your family."

She seemed certain of this fact, unwavering confidence in her own ability. He was equally unsure, as, despite her power, he doubted that someone who lost to him so quickly would hold up against... well, there was still the possibility they were on the same side. For now, he had no choice but to hold uncertain faith in her.