Sorey takes the mask slowly, still trying to take in everything that's him- Lords, how could he not have known? How could it have been so hard to tell? Malakhim are tools, not people? What a fool he was, to swallow lies like that- Vahvuus is more person than half the people at the Abbey.

The mask is heavy in his hands; not quite metal, some kind of firm material but when Sorey squeezes it, it doesn't flex. Rigid.

He looks up at Vahvuus, steels himself and nods before marching over to a boulder jutting out from the water. He places the mask atop the boulder, seeks out another hard, sizeable rock from the riverbed and slams it against the mask until it breaks.