MASKTOURN

enya wakes

Enya wakes laying on a bedroll in a small room. It’s hardly comfortable, but it’s something. There’s no sign of the Lifebringer- or anyone, really. She'd soon realize her clothes have been changed- gone is whatever she was wearing before, replaced by a simple, robelike outfit entirely in white. Morning light filters in from the window, casting the entire small room in a dewy haze. The room is tiny- big enough only to fit the bedroll, a small basin for washing, a chest at the foot of the bedroll, and a low, small writing desk, on which is a folded piece of paper, labeled with Enya’s name, a clay tablet, and a porcelain face mask. The entire room is furnished in plain white tile, and opposite the window is a stone-paneled door leading out. The letter on the desk is written in ornate, swirling script, reads as follows:

Welcome, Enya Liamyouri Hayes!

It is my pleasure to welcome you, not only to the Halcyon Citadel, but to the Snakes! You have been selected, by the Great and Divine Lifebringer, to serve and compete alongside your fellow serpentine contestants and under my gracious leadership. If you have any concerns or run into any trouble, please do not hesitate to bring it to my attention. I’m very excited to meet you all! 

Please wear the mask provided, as it is part of your uniform!

Your Leader, 
Reagan Alizaydyeiren

The mask was of white porcelain, and would sit on Enya’s face without falling, held there by some kind of magic. It only covered her eyes and upper faced, and mirrored the look of a snake’s face. Despite no eye-holes, Enya would be able to see clearly even with the mask on. The clay tablet was just too big to be held in one hand, and was accompained by a small stylus for writing. Its surface displayed the #group-chat, and would update magically as more messages were sent. (edited)

@em || enya 💥 + kenji 🌫

Enya comes to with a groan, wincing slightly at the fading smell of smoke. Shit. There was another weird-ass dream she would have to try to never think about. Hopefully she didn’t burn through the sheets this time, though she doesn’t notice nearly enough smoke for that. She pushes herself up to sitting, one hand propping her up, and it isn’t until then that she notices the weird clothes she’s wearing. And the room, that is definitely not hers. And the desk, with its weird…objects. …….Christ. Enya climbs to her feet shakily, inching over to the table like it’ll explode if she looks at it wrong, as her face pales. Reading the words in the letter does absolutely nothing to reassure her, even with the seemingly upbeat tone. Bring concerns to this Reagan person, alright. Just being here wasn’t concern enough? Wrinkling her nose at the last sentence, her attention shifts to the mask on the table. White and uniforms and what looked like a required tablet, like some weird sort of ancient culty Catholic school knockoff? She’d had enough of that in high school. Regardless, she still hasn’t been able to shake that crippling feeling of smallness after speaking to Naiyta. And thinking about Naiyta makes her think about why she’s here, and— Yeah. She’d better find some others here before she just completely shuts down. …Enya takes both items with her when she leaves.