Muse Masks Novels & Stories

This mask isn’t just fashionable, it was designed by Black Eagle and must be handled delicately. Unlike any of the other masks mine has been outfitted with a transmitter, as well as a small computer system designed to send information through nearly invisible lenses. It's so specialized that I know Katelyn Rose had to have crafted it, even though it was “Ms Smith” who handed it to me.

Sneaky glared at him, and he shut his mouth, “Miles, what is your celebrity name?” “Masketer!” Owen exclaimed like a clown. “Mask Man” Chang Mang commented, Miles touched his nose, and Sneaky protested “no way” Owen's face fell, “why?” With a straight face, Sneaky replied, "they sound scary” Owen “_” Chang Mang “_” Miles replied, "Mora's mask” Sneaky's hand froze on the cursor, Miles turned around, and entered his mother's room, he retrieved the mask and wore it.

In the mirror, the reflection was that of a scholarly gentleman—not exceptionally handsome, but at least refined and gentle in appearance. Curiosity stirred within Clarence, so he asked, "This mask is so thin. How does it change the shape of my nose and cheeks?" Ryan smiled. "It doesn't, not truly. Your face remains the same. But if you hold it up under the sunlight and look closely, you'll notice a bit of color in certain places, either pale pinks or greys. When it's placed on your face, those colors mimic natural shadows and skin tones, creating the illusion of shape. That's how we sculpt your features without changing them. If it weren't for needing that effect, the mask wouldn't have tak

The sounds of cars driving by, and their horns interlaced with the cacophony of voices and footsteps created a background song to my self-declared movie. I lifted my head and gazed at the giant sign of the White-Angel company and a flood of warmth flowed in my stomach. —Today was day one of my revenge mission and I was very well prepared for it. I pushed back the Bayonetta glasses I had ordered over the weekend from A****n. They had been one of the basics for the office siren starter pack I had researched deeply on P*******t and which I had dressed accordingly. Over my pin-striped pencil skirt with the side front slit, I had worn a very tight-fitting white shirt which did not have any button

"Maybe not. The decision is up to you. I just did it for your information but I hope we're inside the hideout. Outside let's go back to the past and our hidden Identity, is it clear?" "Yes!" the women answered at once. Everyone had fun. "Guys, do you agree that we should remove our masks at the same time?" Astra asked happily. Dindo is just waiting to see what happens next. He wanted to approach and hug Amore but he felt embarrassed. He was contented to just watch his friend first. He was also happy because she was safe. It’s his fault why she almost perished at Regor’s hands. "Are you all ready? One, two, three-," Astra said then they removed the masks at the same time.

Mick picked up the mask and looked at it with a frown on his face. “It’s clean. Darren washed it, and then I sprayed and wiped it down again.” “I can smell the cleaner. I’m just curious.... You wear this every time?” “Every time,” I affirmed. “Why?” “To bring out a part of me that wasn’t there before.” “A masquerade girl?”

She slapped Penny on the back of her head and pointed at the pigeon head mask she was wearing. "Oh, my bad! I literally forgot." Penny flashed a nervous goofy grin. "But isn't it a good way to keep our identities hidden? The head masks are giving us freedom of mobility. We don't have to worry about cameras or curious passersby who may take a photo of us and post it online."

The tension in the small space dissipated slightly. Still holding the gun firmly, she walked over to inspect the bag. Inside were three black masks, each of which she carefully examined. They all resembled masks, similar in appearance to those worn by vampires or shape-shifters. However, unlike those worn by other supernatural creatures, these masks were covered in writing and symbols instead of blood.

“He’s auctioning kids, Marcus! What the fuck is going on?” We had already put on the masks Marcus had procured from the trunk of his car – simple, elegant black half-masks that covered our eyes, common enough in these high-society, illicit gatherings to not draw attention. They were meant to conceal our identities, but right now, I felt like mine was screaming.

Her gaze was captivating, and I found myself ensnared by the depths of her eyes. The atmosphere was alive with laughter and music, and as the night progressed, the masks seemed to take on a life of their own. The shapes and designs ranged from whimsical to ornate, each a work of art in its own right. But Julia's mask, in its simplicity and elegance, was a masterpiece that left an indelible mark.