“I see, I see, a practical snow devil mask…” he murmured as he flicked through the pages with speed and agility entirely unbefitting his bored-to-death demeanor, setting the fingers of his left hand between pages as he went through the massive index book.
“There was one that did both, but he left with the last convoy… So your choices for the actual respirator part are the G-Kaisers, or Breath of Life Industries, the uh… “Foremost supplier in respiratory protection devices”. It’s some Grekurian deserter that used to do masks for the Inquisition. A couple others, but they’re more military surplus and salvage than respirators or gas masks specifically.”
Zef nodded, “I’d prefer directions for those surplus sellers as well. What of the “mask” part of the gas mask?”
“On the mask, there’s really only one option - Visage, they specialize in masks. Count yourself lucky that your festivals involve such things.”
After receiving a small paper with written directions and thanking the attendant with a tip of a few coppers, Zefaris first made her way to the military surplus peddler and purchased several things, as their stock was more extensive than expected. Alongside a few pristine gas masks, she also bought several dozen filter canisters for the Ikesian Type-12 gas mask, and, to her fortune, three unspent Fogging Canisters, pricey though they were.
Visage was her second stop, turning out to be a cramped little shop situated entirely within the confines of a brightly-painted truck of foreign make entered from the back. Colorful masks grimaced at her from the walls with a counter at the front, near the driver’s cabin, staffed by an old lady - at least, what sounded like an old lady at first by her greeting, not to mention her short stature. Only, when she pulled the amusing long-nosed mask off her face, the fingers which did so were chitinous, and her face was just the same - chitinous in its entirety, yet arranged in a strikingly human manner. Seeing Zef’s confusion and alarm, the mask-peddler assured her that, “Please do not be alarmed, I’ve nothing to do with the mutant pests infesting your lands. I am the very opposite of their kind, an Immortal Beast, a former animal that has-”
Breaking out of the stupor, Zefaris finished the sentence, “-cultivated Azoth and obtained human form, yes, I’ve met one of you already. I’m sorry for freezing up like that, it’s…”
“It’s alright, dear - were it not for human prejudice I would have never stepped into the wonderful world of masks,” the beetle-woman… Smiled? It sort of looked like a smile. “So what kind of mask are you looking for? Anything specific, or just browsing?”
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Pulling out the Tablet, and from it, a gas mask alongside a canister, she put them down on the counter; “Something that could be fitted over the lower half of this. Do you have anything that could be modified in that way?”
“All of my masks could be, but I’d rather not have someone butchering them more than necessary…” the mask-peddler said, scrunching the segments above her eyes in such a way that it resembled a frown. “I have a few that seal against the face, though for a different reason.”
Reaching below the counter, she started placing strongly-built masks on the counter, one after the other - perfectly plain and flat, a demonic grimace, a dragon’s head that approached a helmet more than a mask, and a half-face carved in the shape of a skull. They all had visible cutouts somewhat resembling air holes, whose true purpose the peddler elucidated when she emerged from behind the counter wearing an appropriately demonic mask herself.
When she spoke, from the mask issued a terrible, distorted growl: “They’re voice-altering masks, for performers. You could simply have the voice modulator removed and use its output point…”
She tapped on the side of the mask she was wearing, where the cutouts were, “...As the mounting point for your filter.”
Zef’s eye was immediately drawn to the skull mask, half because of practical considerations such as the position of its would-be filter mount - off to the side, so it wouldn’t awkwardly interfere if she had to go prone - and half because its design was striking, but not quite as forward as a bright red snarling demon mouth.
“How much for this one?” she picked up the skull-mask.
Pulling the mask off of herself, the beetle woman put on what was definitely a grin.
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Zefaris made absolutely, positively sure the mask fit her correctly before buying, and she wore it the whole way to her next stop - Breath of Life Industries. On the way there, however, she stopped by Kanbu’s place, buying some pierogi and using this as an excuse to bring up something that she was certain Zelsys would want to mention to him.
“...I’m curious - if Willowdale were to be at threat of immediate annihilation, would you take up the spear again?” she asked as she waited. The man shifted in place uncomfortably, brushing it off with a, “Why do you ask?”
Being that the place was devoid of other customers, she said it bluntly: “Because Ubul will wake with the next blue moon and I’m not so sure the militia will be able to do jack or shit to stop him, even with their tank suits.”
“I can’t do jack for multiple reasons, but there may be shit I can do,” he grinned as he handed over the food. “Don’t tell Zel you talked to me if you happen to meet her. Something tells me our fine governor will also impel her to petition me for help.”
Zef felt full with two pierogi left, and so stashed them away for later before departing for Breath of Life Industries.
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This establishment was a good bit shadier than the previous, being located in the part of town whose workers would actually need respirators - on the outskirts in the south-east, out of nose shot, where the rank stench of raw alchemicals burned the nostrils.