|Mask 36 - [Moral]|
The paint has dried. I present you with my 36th mask. I am displeased with how it turned out. It would seem my prowess in luring and killing and generally doing Father's Will is more than countered by my lack of artistic skill. Of course, the plastic base I use has been cracking, and the conditions in my home are...less than ideal. I also blame my still-recovering right arm for the warping on the left side of the mask, or the right side of this photo. As I work with the mask facing me, I was trying to use my right hand to form hold that portion in place while putting the newspaper on, but as you can see, I failed miserably.
But that's enough of that. I did reconnaissance on my Target today. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. No special traits came to light. Unlike 36, I could See her at all times. She was not seen in the company of any of the other Fears. All in all, she seems to be an ordinary ten-year-old girl. Perhaps a bit precocious, but otherwise ordinary. I do not see what Father finds threatening in her.
I suppose this is what I've been degraded to while I lick my wounds. Assassinating children barely old enough to understand their own mortality. This must be Father's way of punishing me for underestimating 36. If that is His Will, then I have no choice but to comply.