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Hunter's masks were the one thing he could always rely on, not his friends, palisman, or himself. He knew that they would be upset at hearing that, but the truth was that he was used to not relying on friends, and Flapjack--
Well, he couldn’t really be relied on anymore.
But masks--literal or otherwise--were always there for Hunter to fall back on.
When he was in the Emperor’s Coven, his mask was just a mask. Something he could fit over his face to hide his scars, his lack of confidence, and his ineptitude to complete even the most straightforward thing Belos had asked of him. It hid his face when he had left the throne room in tears after a particularly nasty slash to his side, and when others would look up to him as if he wasn’t a measly 12-year-old boy.
When he had met the Captain, his mask had been the fibs of a Hexside student. A persona he had taken on before showing his true self: The Golden Guard. What a title that was. He had been so proud of it, too. Proud of a title that branded him a copy--a fake, just like his masks.
When he was in Belos’s mind, his mask had been an aura of confidence. Nonchalance about Belos and his misdoings. A hero, he’d called him. His mask crumbled for the first time when Belos flicked his hair and sent him to his doom without a single second of hesitance. Without a mask, he hadn’t much choice but to run--to get away-- as soon as possible.
When fighting Belos in the head, his mask was false bravery. A simple routine, just as it had always been. It’s training, he’d tell himself. Block an attack here, dodge a swing there.
And the Human Realm. The first place to really lower his defenses. He could finally put the masks down and just be. He laughed, really laughed, for the first time in his entire life. He smiled and got to do things he enjoyed for the very first time.
But life has never been kind to him. As with all those before him, he was doomed to ruin. One slip was all it took, and suddenly--
Yes, he thought. Masks were the only certainty.
So he sits outside the cave they had chosen to take shelter in for the night after entering the portal, sitting against the wall despite protests from Camila about needing to rest. He stares at the sky, at the stars--at all the unattainable things that were never meant for him.
Happiness only ever led to heartbreak, he understood that now. He carried the lightness of loss on his shoulder, and the consequence of defeat marked his body. No, he was never built for happiness.
Hunter listens to those behind him snoring quietly, and slips on a mask one more time. And this, he decided, would have to be forever.