Masks

Success

Set after Further After.

It's an off-hand comment, made just before he signs off from discussing resource exchanges and drops with Narqueth, one of his friends in the Rebel Alliance whom he's known since the initial uprising on the prison ship.

"By the way, Spark, when did you get a new mask? I thought that ratty old thing was supposed to be your good luck charm or something?"

Matt frowns, running a hand over his face subconsciously. "What do you mean? This is the same one I always wear."

"No it's not," Narqueth insists, "The colours are different."

"...as far as I know, this is the same one I've been wearing the whole time you've known me, but I'll get back to you on that," Matt says, more cheerfully than he feels, then cuts the connection after a quick farewell.

The instant his friend is gone, however, Matt is all but yanking his mask from his face with fumbling fingers and more than a hint of panic, because no no no, this can't be happening, not yet, it shouldn't be falling apart yet...

Most true masks are made of a substance that feels like a combination between top-quality leather and ocean-polished stones – smooth, but with just enough texture to it that it feels really pleasant to touch, enough flex that they're comfortable to wear and don't risk shattering if dropped. They can be damaged, yes, they're far from indestructible, but they're still very durable, strong enough to last a lifetime. Even the ties don't wear out like the ones on decorative masks do. You see a few made of more flexible materials, but even these show a remarkable resistance to the wear and tear of everyday life.

Matt's mask, in contrast, is made of fabric. Strange, grey-purple alien fabric, yes, but still cloth, indeed, cloth that was pretty worn even before he bet his all and used it to forge himself anew. It's a constant, quiet knowledge in the back of his mind, that, for all that this is his true mask now, there is every chance the Rebel he wears will not stand the test of time, and for all that it's with him constantly, tied around his right arm or being actively worn, he avoids looking at it too often these days, afraid of what he will see...

This course of action is no longer an option, though, not when the future may be coming faster than he'd thought possible.

His new eyes cut through darkness better than his old ones saw on a cloudless day, but more light is better if he wants to get a really precise feel for colours, more than is available in the communications hub he's claimed for rebellion work. He doesn't need light to pick up on other details, though, as he hurries through the corridors and towards one of the common areas, small changes he hadn't noticed until now, like the edges of his mask. They've always been ragged and slightly frayed – the result of being made from torn cloth – with the occasional thread working its way loose if he fiddles with the edge too much (an action he is much too guilty of (touching his mask has always been a gesture of self-comfort for him, and, even beyond that, the feel of the fabric is oddly mesmerizing through the cybernetic nerves of his prosthetic hand)).

Now, though, there are no loose ends – the edges are smooth and finished, as though the threads have been woven back into the fabric proper, no uneven jags or small tears. The eye holes are the same size and shape now, too, not just as close as he could get them, and though the majority of it is still soft and flexible, there is a stiffness around the middle portion, enough to explain why it's been shaping more securely around the bridge of his nose lately...

A bar of light crosses his path, and his only reaction is to turn into the open doorway, attention still fully focused on his mask. The texture of the fabric is different as well, and the whole thing looks sturdier, less likely to fall apart if you treat it too roughly, and sometime in recent months it's changed from the dark grey-purple of galra prison clothes to brown, the lines somehow fading from black to deep red and orange and – are those ones black or the deepest green he's ever seen? Has the star on the forehead always had that faint sparkle to it? What on Earth-