Dreams of Imahken

To he who unmasks shall eternity claim

The rain lightened into a soft drizzle the next morning, though the sky showed no signs of letting up. Somewhere between studying the poem, drying out his belongings, and keeping an eye out for the fox, sleep found Illus. The soft rain was all he heard for a long time, left in complete silence otherwise. Loneliness crept in like an old friend he had forgotten about.

So much of Illus's time had been spent in the city with friends, working in the office, or researching with Anilee. Now, he had a whole lot of nothing going on besides retrieving food and water. With the spool of thread he found in a corner of the shed, he carved himself a fishing hook and made a rudimentary fishing pole.

Catching fish would make a great source of food, but he thought bribing the fox could be a possibility too.

He found himself taking inventory again and again, but most often sifting through Anilee's spare clothes. Had he been too mean? Did she deserve such harshness from him? He was the one who made this entire expedition happen, but if he had waited then they could be back at her mansion planning the entire trip out. What would the Colonel say when the three returned without him?

Illus smiled ruefully at a lacy gray dress with puffy shoulders and a big skirt. He imagined seeing her in it, asking him if it suited her as she always did. Then getting frustrated that he always said it did. He wondered where his fondness for her came from when all she saw of the world was never enough.

He emptied the dresses out and sifted through the remaining makeup, brushes, pens, pencils, empty notebooks, full notebooks.

Some of her old sketchbooks with notes on the ruins were in there, the ones she never let him see.

Nothing could stop him now, so he scoured the notebooks. What would he find, he wondered? Her inner thoughts, her feelings, random sketches, notes, drawings of people, drawings of him? Had she ever drawn him? Did she think of him fondly?

His mind raced, a little afraid to open the notebooks and find the truth, but curiosity got the better of him. The first page was a full page sketch of her library. This one he had caught a glimpse of many times before, peeking over her shoulder when she was bored and sketching idly. Beyond that were sketches of dresses, some old notes about Imahken and Carmonia, then a carefully created self portrait. It was as close to perfect as he had seen a drawing of her. Perfectly round eyes, perfectly full lips, perfectly angular cheeks, perfectly straight black hair, perfectly solemn expression, perfect dimples. It had every detail of her face to utter perfection, but it looked nothing like her.

She seemed to have thought the same thing, because the next one was another self portrait, almost samely perfect except with color. Again, she captured every detail perfectly, but there was something off.

He flipped the next page and yet another portrait, though incomplete, this one the exact same as the other two, but her hair was a little out of place and there was an aggressive X through the page.

Then another page of a self portrait crossed out, this time seemingly after she had drawn on her freckles more heavily than before- but it looked more accurate. He flipped back to the prior page and noticed the hairline again, realizing that it was her actual hairline, a bit lower than average, a slightly shorter forehead.

Every page that resembled more of how she actually looked was crossed out and unfinished. Between more notes and random sketches of empty cityscapes were these crossed out portraits of herself.

A droplet splashed in the brazier. Illus glanced up to see Ciun watching from the roof.

He startled and shut the notebook, "Good grief!"

"Don't let me stop you." The mask stared from above, Ciun's long blue hair was tied back, falling over her neck and dripping water.

"You know," Illus slowly gestured to the bench behind his spot on the floor. "Obviously this is your own shed, but you're welcome to not be sopping wet outside if you're visiting. I hate to cause you any discomfort." Before she could respond, he raised a finger to halt her, setting Anilee's bag full of clothes and cosmetic items on the bench, then moving to the opposite side of the room. "That's all yours now. I've sorted through everything. Consider it thanks for allowing me to stay here."