Every night he found himself captivated by the strange, and presumably very large entities, and every morning, he found himself greeting the earliest risers in the tribe…no, his tribe. It became the new norm quickly enough, and while they first thought it odd, the people he had come to claim as his own soon came to expect and even be strangely comforted by his cheerful good mornings and constant willingness to assist in anything they desired. The man was pretty trusting of them, and the people weren't too abusive of his kindness, either. He made a place for himself in no time.
Unfortunately, in that time he also found the tribe was running into many issues. Disagreements with neighbors, lack of resources…things he knew he could aid with! He had to be useful…perhaps his fear of rejection was irrational, but the sting of being exiled was still fresh enough. Anxieties over whether or not to show them this magic he knew was even eating into what little sleep the man required. He heard the elders cursing the names of the fascinating beings. Was he, perhaps, to hate them, too? He couldn't bring himself to, they felt kind enough. And strong. But those around him felt so forsaken by the four.
Finally the young man went before one of the elders, "I know I've not been here long, and I do hope this isn't too out of line, however I believe there is a solution…"
The elder's face cut him off. Such disbelief, he was certain he was about to be scolded, but instead the man urged him to continue, "Is there? Can you, perhaps, explain?"
Relief washed over him like a fresh shower, "Of course!" He reached behind him and produced a simple half-face mask, tinted pale green and etched with beautiful vines, twining around the whole of the thing, "This, for example," he beamed, proud of his work, "It is blessed with a love of the plants. Whoever dons it will be guided by the forest to safe, plentiful fruits, and be able to encourage crops to grow faster!" Already he felt himself slipping into a role he was going to be filling for many, many years to come. Before he could be asked, he slipped it onto his face, knowing this magic wouldn't interfere with his transformation, and murmured a small melody to a wilting flower, which almost immediately sprung to life. Taking it off, he looked up eagerly at the elder.
The elder was, understandably, flummoxed by this. Sure, they used magic, they used music to achieve their ends, but it was only a select few who could use the music to their ends. Sometimes they would find items that had been blessed, too, but this tribe seemed to have awful luck with that. Yet, here was this man, a man who mere months ago had been a stranger who appeared out of nowhere the day they found their night guard, heart ripped from his chest. An uncanny circumstance, but…perhaps he had been brought as a gift from the giants? Or…well, he hadto be there for some reason. And with this power he seemed to possess, the elder thought, he may be able to save them from ruin.
"What did you say your name was?" he asked, realizing he never did ask.
"I-I suppose I was called Kriem. I'm just a collector, though. You can just call me the Collector," the ginger man stammered, bowing.
"Well, Collector," the elder nodded, deciding he preferred the title to the man's name, "Can you perhaps make more of those?"
"I could show you how to do it, if…if you show me how you do magic here," he knew there was magic. He could sense it.
That night, he got his first instrument. A small harpsichord, but it served his needs. That night, he spent hours composing for his new family. And that was how he knew he had been accepted. And how the tribe first learned of charmed masks.
