Galuthel couldn't have been more frustrated, his latest customer entering his newly opened shop to glance at his wares, only to dismiss it all as magical nonsense and storm out--and only the most recent of many who'd come before. Truly, the denizens of this small town, Renwick, held no appreciation at all for his display of talented craftsmanship--nor the brilliant works borne from the fruits of his labor.
As the azure dragon stood behind his desk, he took to gazing at the mask the man had slammed upon its top before leaving; the equine muzzle, long, rabbit-like ears, and brown coloration of the fur-like exterior of the wooden mask indicating to him that the customer's true calling had been that of a donkey--which he would argue was more than fitting for his proceeding behavior.
He gently lifted the donkey mask to cradle it solemnly in his claws, as though the action would cause the eternal sense of sadness within the mask's empty eyes to fade upon realizing that there was someone out there who's happiness required it.
Turning back to face the wall of masks situated behind him and his desk, Galuthel quietly placed the ownerless mask back alongside it's many peers--ranging from dragons such as himself, to apes, to bulls, to serpents, to even boars. Though in the end, despite their difference in species, they all shared that same empty, unhappy look within their darkened eyes.
The masks remained silent, staring off into nothingness. The silence continued on until the entire room was filled with it's quiet.
His maw parted with an exhausted sigh as he attempted to mend his own feeling of discontent, trailing his scarlet eyes to the right of his desk where many glass bottles filled with an azure liquid lay displayed atop a linen cloth of rich vermillion lined with gold--matching the curtains at both his side's that would normally obscure his vast collection should he not be within his shop. To the opposite end of his desk, displayed upon a linen cloth of similar design to the flasks, was a simple folded sign of parchment; extravagant lettering none other than his own as it detailed the single rule to any customers curious to his mystical wares:
Have faith.
How little faith the inhabitants of this town had, it was truly heartbreaking. And all he could do was stand and await the entrance of another customer, one who would surely be like the man before, and the many before him. He knew this, yet he couldn't help but to feel discouraged every time it happened.
Much to the dragon's surprise, his snout lifted to the entrance of his shop as the ring of the bell and sound of entering footsteps signalled a new customer; quickly adjusting himself and straightening his posture before giving a graceful bow to the unexpected arrival.
"I humbly welcome you to my mask shop, dear customer."
Galuthel's forlorn gaze was but a distant memory, his maw parting with a smile as he returned to full height, his large drooping wings lifting with a confident, hopeful flourish as the sunlight-cast silhouette of his newest customer drew into his domain to be revealed as...