Knight of the Blue Roses

If Mathilde was one thing, she was observant. She was carefully observing this strangers expressions and facial cues to make sure he was safe or a villain. But for the moment it was…uncertain. She’d have to carefully read him or this could go badly for her in the future… once more, she hugged her doll tightly for comfort.

"I-I guess that sounds nice…" Having company in a scary place is nice, but it could go poorly… did she have many other options, though? There wasn’t too much else she could do… 

…The tone of his voice changed drastically between those two responses…how peculiar… …and he didn’t remember his name? Did he hit his head on something? That might explain a bit, but for now she couldn’t be quite sure “W-well I can’t just leave you without a name for the short time I’m here with you. I-I guess I’ll call you…erm…how does Henry sound?” She asked

«♘» If the other were to question him as to what exactly it was that he was doing before he found her— the purplette would find that he could not bring himself to answer to answer it, seeing that his memories had been utterly diminished somehow or rather. As much as he himself could not quite comprehend how his memories mere moments ago had disappeared into thin air, his utmost concern as of now was placed on the young girl that seemed to be as lost as he was in the Gallery.

Cerulean hues met his own, filled with what seemed to be apprehension and fear, though she continued to hug the life out of her doll.. not that it had a life at all. Rather, why had such a thought about living dolls surface in his mind? Surely all dolls were non-living.

A soft smile graces his features, the headache easing ever so slightly and a faint sigh of relief escapes his lips before he could stop it. Good riddance with that headache.

❝ Well ... I don't remember much, but I think I know vaguely where we are.. can't say the same about the location of an exit though. ❞

He seemed rather perplexed, trying to make out whatever remained of the lingering memories and piecing them together, but it did nothing but make him well, even more confused.

Though, it was evident that he was happy that the girl had decided to come along with him in trying to find an exit to this place. He knew that he had to escape from here. If there was anything that was clear left in his mind, it was that he had made some sort of promise, that required him to get out.

And he would. He knew that he would. No matter what the cost— he would get out of this place.

"…How do you know me?" She tilted her head and stared at him blankly, ignoring the disappearing pain in her toe, "Do you know me?" Dark brown hair framed the sharp features of her face as thin fingers brushed it slightly out of her field of vision, a soft smile appeared on her face. "Are we perhaps, acquaintances? I apologize for the fact that you have stumbled within the place I call home."

She bowed in front of him as a greeting, “You know my calling, may I know yours? It is only fair.” She had almost forgotten her usual phrase upon meeting many newcomers. “Please do not start any fires or touch the displays, thank you and welcome to the world of Guertena.”

The man before her seemed so familiar, perhaps the girl saw him in book or a portrait, but she could not pinpoint the exact location. Still, she made an effort in welcoming her into her twisted wonderland.

«♘» It had been surprise that had first flashed behind his cerulean hues, his eyes wide as the raven-haired girl simply stared back at him in a confused manner. The inquiries that she had posted at him confirmed his ill-dreaded suspicions— and he had lost his composure for the briefest of moments. She doesn’t remember me. Those were the words that resounded in his mind, over, and over again. Panic would have overcome him if he were not to keep himself under control, noting some things in his mind.

She couldn’t remember who he was. Neither did she know who he was, in the slightest. She was Ib.  She looked older. Much older than when he had first met her. ..And perhaps, a slight hint of inquisitive in her crimson gaze.. But no signs of familiarity. None at all.

Perhaps it did hurt. But he made no effort to show them outwardly, following courtesy and murmuring a greeting back as well, before regarding other matters.

❝ …We were acquainted. My name is Garry. ❞

A wince followed when he had remembered the warning she had given him, reminding him of when he had burned Mary’s canvas, which had lead to the painting’s ultimate demise.

..Surely, Ib had not become a  fabrication..?

The girl stood up and seemed to view him with uncertainty, the plush toy that she had held in her hands and was relying for comfort initially, her grip loosened vaguely around it. For a child to be this suspicious of a person that approached her like that.. perhaps she had gone through some rather traumatizing things, herself?

Needless to say, the throbbing headache that was plaguing his mind as of now wasn't helping in the slightest. He hated it. Hated the fact that there were voices in his mind, but he couldn't recognize a single one.

It made him rather frustrated. But never mind that, what mattered as of now, was the young girl who had spoken to him. Everything else could be put on hold.. for the moment.

❝ ...I'm not too entirely sure where we are..  ❞

A soft sigh escapes his lips as he scratches the back of his head gingerly.

" You're lost here too? Maybe we can find our way out here together!"

There was that voice again. It was evidently his this time.. but who was he speaking to? And had he been here before, perhaps? Nothing did quite make sense to the young man as of now.

..Perhaps he could help this girl too.. just like he had helped.. well, whoever it was in the past.

♛;  By only the mere sight of the shabby - yet fashionable coat, and shaggy lavender hair,  the fabrication could automatically recognize his identity without fail. It was he, Garry, the seaweed-haired nuisance Mary had longed to exact her revenge on since her resurrection —- though, the child had calmed down quite a bit since their last encounter. Mostly, she blamed herself now for what happened, rather than placing the blame on either Ib or Garry.

If one word could describe her entirety, it would be 'broken'.

He was about ready to ignore her, really-- with his unstable mind, and the way everything was coming up in a messed up pile as of now, he hardly wanted to be bothered by anyone. But the way that this girl seemed to be acting intrigued him. Perhaps he would watch what she was going to do, and reevaluate her, instead of think of her as a complete stranger.

..You don't seem to remember anything...

The Blue Rose wielder could do nothing, but tilt his head to aside, azure hues scrutinizing the blonde in utter confusion, not the slightest smile feigned n his lips as he regarded her.

Quick steps climbed down another endless staircase. Funny, Ib never remembered a long and narrow hallway parallel from the front desk of the gallery. Luckily she could recognize the next level of this fabricated world. An old shade of red greets her foresight once again as disorientation sorts itself out from confusion.

To her left, Ib found another woman, a portrait of the gallery, with her waist attached to a canvas and no legs or hips to aid her for walking. The woman’s brilliant cerulean dress appeared to match pleasantly with the hue of the flower she held. In her hands was a beautiful blue rose, but weirdly enough, the lady did not bother to rip it to shreds or eat away each delicate petal that laced itself at the core of the stalk. The female only tapped the heart of the flower lightly on it’s side against the floor, looking rather bored and out of character than ready to devour or destroy her possessions.

The child had seen this scene replay in her head before, and she knew exactly what was going to come next. Upon the woman’s attention heeded towards the young nine-year-old, the painting’s energy surged back to life as her hissing and growls directed themselves towards the little girl. And out the door Ib barged through, with the woman crashing out the window to meet her on the other side.

Repeating her techniques, Ib returned inside to grab the untouched blue rose and bolted again outside, this time towards the exit, away from the woman who snaked the floors like a creature from inside a well.                                                                               Lucky they couldn’t open doors.

Perhaps he was a fabrication of the Gallery as well. A portrait of him had been in the Gallery, in place of 'The Hanged Man'. Surely, someone would've have noticed, but it wasn't too big of a difference..

..Oh? He seemed to be awakening. What had roused his deep slumber? Perhaps it was the hoarse whispers that surrounded him, in mocking, taunting tones that he did not recognize. Cerulean hues meet the surrounding area that he was in, widening ever so slightly as he surveyed the place he had been resting in, an expression of utter confusing settling on his features. Not a single memory remained in the man's mind, needless to say, his own name. It have completely disappeared, together with his current location, identity..

..Rather, what was he even doing here? That had completely slipped his mind as well. Reason. It was infuriating, to say the least; and the headache that was causing his ears to ring wasn't helping in the slightest either. A soft grunt escapes the individual's lips, before a loud booming sound was hear, coming from all sides.

He had enough of this tom-foolery, quite frankly. What was---

Darkness envelops his entire world, and with a surprised yelp, the purplette falls into the oblivion-- falling..                                  falling..                                                           falling...

                   "lEtS' PlAY a GaME . . .  "

       "sHALL wE ?"

The next time he awakened, he would find himself slumped on the ground, in the one of the hallways of the Gallery, an aching sort of pain that was assaulting him, which he would assume lead to his unconsciousness, and perhaps, just perhaps.. a young girl staring down at him.

A man is lying on the floor, and looks like he is in pain....

LostSoulOfHonshu

CaeruLeanPetalis

It was long before any realization dawned upon him.

❝Big brother! ❞

A flinch. Who was that? He certainly didn't quite understand why his mind was whirring, a hint of familiarity holding onto him as he simply gazed at the girl from afar, not once noting that it would be rude to stare that long.

Long violet hair. Indigo hues that stares back at him, once filled with so much happiness... --Oh? It had to be her---

His lovely younger sister...