Perpetua had just taken over the ministry, and the position as frontman for Ghost. He tried to ignore the fact that a very resentful Copia (now Frater Imperator), was doing his very best to remind him who was the original frontman out of the two brothers. But Perpetua would be lying if he said it hadn’t got to him a little.

Sure, maybe he was quieter than Copia, a little less playful, but that didn’t make him a bad leader, right?

Perpetua stood in front of the ornate, floor length bedroom mirror, in his quarters, inspecting himself. Those little feelings of inadequacy were starting to creep in; the half mask he wore, unable to hide everything. It felt like he was constantly exposed, and as he lifted a hand to touch his jaw softly, he wondered if it was enough for everyone.

He studied his black curls, that curled just below his shoulders. Perpetua’s mismatched eyes watched himself; and he found it hard to look away, constantly finding little things he considered to be wrong about himself. He felt a dull ache behind his eyes, as he tried not to well up with tears, he didn’t want you to worry about him. He didn’t want anyone to worry about him; he couldn’t show anyone that he was weak, lest Copia have something else to mock him about.