FOOL MASK (GITM BY @venomous-qwille)
Handbuilt porcelain with slip, overglaze, glaze, and gold lustre accents. Paint and lacquer detailing added post fire. Handsewn fool's cap and bells added post fire.
This mask is a part of a (loosely connected) mask series, all hand-built and fired using a range of different temperatures and techniques.
My favourite mask to date, Fool from Ghost in the Machine by the wonderful @venomous-qwille !! GITM is absolutely incredible and I cannot put into words eloquently how much I adore it and Fool so instead I made this mask! Hi!
My word was this mask a struggle to make. The mask itself is entirely one piece, and entirely porcelain!! That's right, those long thin rays are solid porcelain!! The eyes and tips of the blades are done in 22 carat gold lustre. All colouring save for the black and the satin sections of darker red on the face were done with only slips and underglazes. The red colour was correct without the paint, but I thought a contrast from the rest of the gloss would look nice :)
Made to scale, the mask measures 50.8x60.96cm without the hat, and 50.8x116.84cm with it! (20x24in without hat, 20x46in including hat). He is Large, but turned out absolutely lovely and I send my many many thanks to the kiln gods for producing him unscathed.
(naku & wall for scale)
(he's so big guys i have large walls (the top of my head is only slightly above the top of the bookcase beneath him) look at him at the wall it's nuts)
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the 141 recovering brainwashed!soap but he’s just a shell of his former self; never speaking, never moving without orders. he never even blinks; just stares straight ahead with his unnatural green eyes.
empty.
but ghost can't accept that.
price and gaz can't stand watching ghost torture himself day after day; visiting soap in his cell for hours at a time, trying anything he can think of to bring back his sergeant.
he shows him pictures of the 141 but soap thinks he's being given targets and moves to eliminate them before ghost stops him. he brings him his journal, tries to trigger his innermost thoughts and feelings he never shared with any of them, but after he reads it, soap summarises it like he's giving a mission briefing. impersonal.
cold.
it's late when ghost finally calls it; low and defeated after another long day of being stared at with eyes that don't see him. he isn't thinking when he pulls his mask off and harshly scrubs over his face, grinding his palm into his eye.
"don't worry, johnny; we're still fixin' each other's problems," he promises, little more than a whisper as he tries to summon the energy to leave johnny behind. again.
he pushes himself to his feet, his hand on the door handle when-
"what's my problem?"
ghost freezes, something like grief - something achingly closer to hope - chilling him. he slowly turns and though soap is still starring ahead, there's a faint light in his altered green eyes.
"the mask," he forces out. "take it off."
he knows there's no way to remove the mask - the muzzle - from his sergeant's face. it's too high-tech, even for them; the biometric scanner too advanced for any bypass they know of.
it's just another way he's failed him; bringing him home still bound in their enemy's chains.
soap- jolts; a sharp, almost painful looking flinch jerking his body.
"show my face?" and his voice has changed; no longer the monotone delivery that's haunted ghost's every waking moment.
it's smaller. uncertain. recollection of a memory half-destroyed.
"yes, johnny," he breathes.
soap moves unprompted for the first time since they found him; running his finger along the edge of the muzzle where his skin bulges from the pressure, half-visible scars hidden beneath the harsh metal.
"ugly," he murmurs.
ghost immediately shakes his head, almost stumbling back to the table; haphazardly throwing his mask on it. "quite the opposite," he insists.
it doesn't matter if he has no lower jaw left at all; johnny could never be ugly in his eyes.
agonisingly slowly, soap's eyes shift to the mask. he takes in the balaclava and hard shell skull like for all the times he's looked at it since his rescue, he never truly saw it. his lids fall in less of a blink and more stage curtains closing; slow, heavy, requiring effort and no small amount of strength to open once more
"good... to see you again..." he trails off, his hand shifting up to the top of his shaved head; nails digging unforgivingly into his scalp
"simon," ghost finishes for him; that horrid grieving hope tearing at his heart
soap's fingers flex and a drop of blood trails down his forehead, over the ridge of his nose to catch on the muzzle. "s-simon..."
his nails dig deeper, the drop falling to the table just to be followed by more and ghost aches to stop him but he's terrified to interrupt him. terrified to lose him now when he's so close to something.
soap's bloodied nails scratch down the crown of his head, following the line of his stolen mohawk until they come to rest on the back of the muzzle and ghost's heart drops.
they can’t get it off.
they can't get it off and he doesn't know how to explain that to soap; doesn't know if he can stomach watching soap pull at the monstrosity holding him captive, the inevitable bloodbath as the edges cut into his skin.
"show my face," soap repeats.
"johnny..." ghost begins weakly, reaching out to him but he doesn't know how, doesn't know if he even should-
the muzzle clatters onto the table.
the biometrics they couldn't bypass, the fingerprint they needed that they were so sure belonged to makarov.
it belonged to soap.
how cruel to torture him with freedom he didn't understand he could take; didn't even understand he could want.
just the kind of sick game makarov loves.
ghost doesn't know what's louder; his heart pounding in his ears or the long, uninhibited breath soap takes.
his eyes fall shut as he leans his head back with it, the blood still dripping down his face as he straightens through his exhale. his lower jaw is a mess of scars where he fought against the previous iterations of the muzzle, the corners of his lips cut through and cracked.
but the green in his eyes is duller; that light sparking brighter as blue struggles to break through the glow.
ghost's never seen anything so beautiful.
"good to see you again, johnny."
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I need to know your thoughts Abt papitano Capitano 👀👀
(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ very unholy thoughts happening in my brain..... that cutscene where he fights Mavuika?!?!?!?! HE'S SO STRONG (as expected of the first Harbinger)!!!!!!! I am on my knees. orz omg could you imagine beauty and the beast plot with him........ I NEED HIM SO BADLY AAAAAAAAAAAAA.
Imagine him fighting for your honor...... Capitano following the medieval codes of chivalry (but maybe he breaks a few because he is wholly obsessed with you and anyone who challenges his blade will thus fall by it). COURTLY LOVE WITH HIM?!?!?! Capitano holding onto the lacy handkerchief you gave him just before he left, and he knelt before you and promised to return victorious. No matter how much blood stains his armor or the grounds he treads upon, your handkerchief will remain pure and untouched, a memento and reminder that you are waiting for him.
OR OR OR !!!!!! Capitano being your personal knight, the one who is always at your side, devoted to serving you and only you. Perhaps it is the reason why so few men offer you their hand in marriage, if only because your knight's stature and silence is rather intimidating. Quite the relief for Capitano. He refuses to hand his lady over to just anyone. In fact, it's better if you just allow him to look after you. Do you really need anyone else? There's no one who can possibly best him in a duel. You're in safe hands when he's concerned. <3
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