Unmasked

Feathers

My thoughts cloud my focus on the girl. She simply lies in the contraption, unconcious, and unaware of my presence.

I think again of my meeting with The Supreme Leader. Neither of us said that the change felt wrong. It was simply a change, something we could not stop.

Now, though, I needed answers. I simply could not live with this girl in my every thought. She made so much sense, and yet she seemed otherworldly.

Her locks of red hair, like feathers, were no surprise, having spent so much time with Comander Hux. But there was something about her eyes, about her, that was not right. Not wrong either, but not right.

I felt rather than saw her eyes open. They found me immediately, and that seemed to calm her. She watched me carefully, and her eyes seemed to see straight through my mask. I hated it.

"Where am I?" Her tone was not desperate, but simply curious.

"I don't think your in the position of asking questions." I told her.

She raised an eyebrow in a defiant smirk.

"I see. Then what is it you wish to ask me?" Her question struck me.

I didn't even know what I wanted to ask.

"What is your name?" I started, figuring it to be a simple yet applicable question.

"Pixel." She stated.

I paused. I was lost for words.

She laughed at my silence.

"Not a common name, I know." She said.

I tried to think of a suitable response, but there was only one thing I had on my mind.

"Are you with the Resistance?"

Pixel gave me a long, thoughtful stare, than tilted her head to one side, a smile playing on her lips.

"This is rather unfair." She said.

I mimicked her actions, tilting my head in question.

"I was forced to show my face, but you choose to keep yours hidden." She said.

I paused for a moment, thinking about that, before deciding there was truth behind her words. I lifted my hands to the mask, and pressed until there was a click.

I stood from my half kneeling position as I pulled the mask from my face.

*****

Pixel's P.O.V

As he stood, his thick black curls surrounded his long, narrow face, shaped like feathers. They reminded me of a raven.

His eyes were like bottomless black pits, and I felt drawn to them. His skin was so pale in comparison.

He did not smile, did not show emotions on his face, but his eyes... I had grown accustomed to reading people's eyes.

Hurt. Bitterness. Calm. Self-control. All adding up to confusion.

Feelings that were never meant to mix. He had a past that had hurt him. That much I already knew. He had many regrets.

In the space of only seconds, I knew he was broken man.

Perfect.

Broken things need fixing. Fixing people, however, was my strategy. It was like fixing a toy for a child. You get to see their joy for a moment, and then they break it all over again.

I revel in their pain once they break a second time. Most people are weak and give up on life. Some never seem to run out of interest in life.

This man was not a quitter, but I was more skilled at breaking things than you might imagine. Especially hearts.