Quiet footsteps clatter on marble, taking a step carefully into each charcoal shaded tile. When the little girl wanders alone in a black painted gallery she can only help but feel a sense of loneliness overpowering her determined will to continue further into the depths of this world. Her only hesitance is the odd familiarity that this next new part of the gallery unfolds. It is like as if she has been here before. Up the stairs, and down the hall, to the left, and past one last corridor. It is there that she gazes crimson gems on the largest painting ever to have laid eyes upon. A bitter smile of melancholy takes a hold of her ripe, pink-plump lips. It is the painting that started it all, isn’t it? The one she gazed deeply into before stumbling into this begotten world, based on a man’s last few remaining sustenance of life driven and sealed into these many artistic creations of his.
Ib stares deeply into the mural once more. It is unfortunate that she still cannot read the nameplate written just below the frame. ??? World. How she wishes she knew the word. Though as curious as she is, her main concern now is to go home. Go home, and call this all just a nightmare to her greatest imaginations. The call of a familiar young man raises her ears through the silence of this fabricated world. Her eyes glaze over to see the young man once again— Garry! Had he finally awoken after taking a rest from his injured rose? Yet Ib grows very meek because she is aware of the male’s sapphire lifeline, torn to pieces and left with nothing more but the stalk. In knowing this, she shyly stares back at him, brows pulling to knit as she studies his figure extensively. The nine-year-old neither approaches or distances herself.
{ ♘ } –⊱ Waking was that of starting an eternal nightmare. Terrifying, confusing... and unlike any other experience yet. Perhaps what he'd noticed first was the distinct lacking of pain; for dying in such a way could only suggest a painful afterwards. Though that seemed to vanish as soon the lilac haired awakened.
The second realization he'd had was he wasn't alive anymore. That the blond had killed him, took his place. That Ib was long gone. That he was alone. Perhaps that what frightened him most - a forever of endless void. Trapped, forever...
now he understood Mary. Just how much she needed to leave the fabricated realm. It was a true nightmare. Albeit the rules seemed too cruel; to leave another behind, to have them take your place? --No... It was far too an evil for any human. But she was no human, anyhow.
--Perhaps that was what scared him most of all. The fear - the possibility - of him doing the same. Of the gallery consuming him completely. And what was he to do if it did?
Then crimson optics came to view, and surprise was nearly as great as when awaking once again. The cerulean eyed only wished to see her off, to say goodbye, before her leaving, as portraits cannot leave without another taking their place. Although the words which did leave himself were far different than intended. Far different, indeed. "Ib...
Ib!! I was looking for you...! You went off on your own!"
No...
"I said I'd catch up, didn't I? Sheesh... I was worried!"
No. This was not what he was going to say-- "Anyway, Ib! I think I found an exit!
It's not here, it's over there. Wanna go check it out?"
The said words were not of which planned upon - and they were lies. The mural was the only exit. The only exit for the world. He'd never believe he would lie to the younger, much less so be unable to control it...
L i a r....
L i a r...!!!
Lies are against the gallery rules, G a r r y.
Voices - inside his head, no doubt. For Ib certainly hadn't heard them. And she believed the words he'd spoken aloud were of his own... He just hoped she wouldn't listen. That she'd leave him behind, forgot everything that'd happened. That she would be safe of this forsaken realm forever.
