Sweet-loving sweetie

“…please say I’m still dreaming.” she thought to herself, hoping that whatever she was experiencing was a cruel nightmare and she was still in the dark pathway somewhere sleeping. It might has well be a dream, Fang and the others weren’t the only ones that didn’t notice the real Vanille’s presence… the other people of the gallery didn’t seem to notice her either, which made the redhead feel even smaller.

Vanille found a little strength to move and walk a little, though the shock was still fresh. Needless to say, she wasn’t really watching where she was going, so imagine her surprise when someone bumped right into her. Recollecting herself, the Pulse native shook her head solemnly when the male apologized. “No, that’s alright. I should’ve been watching where I was going…. sorry.” she apologized back. Silly Vanille… this was no time to be clumsy. She then noticed that the boy that bumped into her was reaching in his pocket and offering whatever he took out to her. Was that… candy?

Was he worried about her? That was so nice of this stranger. “Thanks… really. I needed that pick-me-up.” she said with a weak smile, taking the small candy from his hands, though what he said was kind of weird. “Hm? What do you mean? I can see you just fine! As clear as day!” The lavender-haired boy didn’t look like anyone Vanille has seen before in either Cocoon or Gran Pulse, but she can see him just fine.

…wait a minute. Backtrack for one little minute. He saw her. Not just that, he offered her candy!

“…hold on, so you can see me!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up at this realization. “I can see you, and you can see me! We can see each other!” Vanille was relieved. Then, he must be from the gallery before, before Vanille saw ‘Fabricated World’. Then was he in the dark path somewhere too? Vanille couldn’t tell, it was dark and confusing in there.

But then… if he can see her, then… can he see the fake Vanille that left with the others too?

This was a big 'bright spot' of hope in this horrible situation, indeed: at least now he wouldn't feel as 'ignored', even if he probably still was the invisible man and the lady might be thinking she was crazy at hearing voices from nowhere. He certainly hoped he wasn't frightening her, but maybe this young lady was very brave, because she didn't seem fazed at all. He wished he could be that brave, often, but now was no time to feel sorry for himself. (Even if, had he been in the same situation and heard a voice coming from nowhere, he would have likely run screaming.)

Oh, oh! The situation got even brighter, when she looked down at the candy he held out, and Garry gasped at the girl confirming she could see him just fine, he finding himself so thrilled by the fact he wasn't 'all alone' in this that he couldn't prevent himself from skipping over to the other and wrapping his arms around them.

"O-oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! This might sound really odd, but you d-don't know how wonderful it is to hear those words!"

Oh wait - AGAIN. Had he just...hugged a complete stranger? Oh dear, he had, hadn't he? Finding his face turning as red as the candy wrapper he'd offered the other, he let go, stepping back like he'd touched hot coals.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to invade you p-personal space like that...I got caught up in the moment."

His nervous apologies aside, he blinked - the other having much the same reaction as he, being one of delight that 'he could see her' - oh? Was this young miss having the same 'odd experience' as he? it certainly did seem it. Then, that must mean she was someone who got stuck in the Fabricated World, too! Yes, he could see the rose the other held, now that he looked carefully.

"You...you got stuck in the Fabricated World too?"

That timid enquiry made, the pink-haired lass was quick to ask a query of her own.

"Yes, yes! As well as a nasty-looking version of myself. She gave me a rather nasty smirk. Like she KNEW nobody else could see or hear me, and she delighted in that fact. I'm...not very brave, so I didn't really want to follow a scary-expression-wearing lady like her all by myself."

That fact admitted, he mused:

"You seem a lot nicer than her, though. And I couldn't ignore someone crying."

A pause then, before Garry said:

He couldn’t even remember falling asleep at any point, honestly. He’d been so hellbent on not falling asleep in the other world, because there were so many other things that needed to be done, and rest wasn’t quite an option. But apparently he had — and when he finally woke up, he was greeted by white walls, and a white floor. There was even the sound of people chattering to be heard if he strained his ears to listen long enough ..

A second more to piece everything together, and the teenager jumped up from where he was sitting — he’d been leaning up against the wall right next to a painting that looked like a bunch of scribbles and paint-blotches. 

It was the “Fabricated World”. He didn’t even need to look over at the plaque beneath the painting to make sure. After what had happened to him the first time he looked at it, how could he forget what it looked like? The teenager shook his head, rubbed his eyes, even pinched himself — just to make sure that this wasn’t a dream, that it was real. And, he found after a minute or so, it was. It was all real.

Then .. everything was okay. He was back in the art gallery — no, he was home, and a nap was all it took to bring him back here. How silly he’d been for not going to sleep sooner! Maybe that was why he was so tired in the first place — his body was trying to tell him the way out of that other place. A laugh escaped his lips as he started down the hall, though, it sounded more exhausted than it did humored. How long had he spent in that other place, anyway? Minutes, hours? His sense of time felt like it had been warped back there, and it didn’t help that he hadn’t had a watch on him. So he couldn’t quite recall how long it had been, but it didn’t matter. He was back, and all he had to do now was find his sister and they could —

“Rhyme!” No sooner had he thought of the younger blonde did he find her a few feet away — and she was with company. Neku, Rhyme and Shiki were crowded around one of the smaller paintings on the wall ahead. They must not have heard Beat calling his sister’s name, because they didn’t stop what they were doing to turn around. It was a bit strange, because the skater had a pretty loud voice .. But it didn’t matter; he would just surprise them while their backs were turned. It would be more fun that way, anyway .. At least, that was what Beat figured.

It was only when he got close enough to the trio that he saw what they were looking at. It was a painting. It was a painting .. of Beat. And if that wasn’t enough, the title underneath the frame was no more reassuring than the image itself: It was titled, “The Forgotten Portrait”. “What the —?”

The trio turned towards him then; they looked at him, but they didn’t say a word. It was almost like .. they were looking through him. Like they were looking at something behind him.

The blonde turned around at that thought, and he found that he could not have been any more right about the situation. Because, standing there behind him was .. well, it was hard to believe, and Beat rubbed his eyes furiously before he actually believed what he was seeing. Standing a few feet away was a person that looked exactly like him, and could have been him, but it wasn’t — obviously not, he was standing right there! He was where he was, but that Beat still remained; it was no illusion of the eye, either .. rubbing his eyes had proved that much to him. Not only that, but the three standing behind him were acknowledging this other Beat as opposed to him — the real Beat. “Yo, guys, what’s all ‘a this —?”

But they went on with what they were doing, as if he hadn’t spoken to begin with. The blonde turned towards his friends, waving his hands, doing anything that might have caught their attention, but to no avail. They started to speak to one another; Shiki suggested that they head home, but this other Beat suggested that they stay a little longer. He wanted to look at all the paintings once more, from what it sounded like. Everyone had been in agreement with him, nodding their approval. Rhyme, in particular, looked especially excited — she’d loved the gallery, and she was happy that Beat was enjoying it so. It .. Almost hurt Beat to see it, because it wasn’t him she was happy about. It was this .. this imposter.

They then started to walk away, “fake Beat” following close behind the trio. However, as the other three teenagers went down the steps to the first floor, the imposter-Beat stopped walking. He stopped himself at the top of the staircase, and turned to look over his shoulder. He was looking at exactly where the real Beat stood, as if ..

As if he knew that Beat was standing there. As if he’d known this entire time that Beat was there. The smirk on this other Beat was sinister, and the teenager felt himself tense up. He advanced on the imposter, fists clenched tightly; whoever this guy was, he was going down. “Yo — Yo, You get the hell away from ‘em! You touch one hair on any ‘a their heads, and you’re as good as dead! You hear me!? I ain’t playin’!” 

There was no response from the imposter in words, but as Beat screamed at him, his smirk grew wider. A moment of silence fell between them before any words were spoken; they were from the imposter, and they made Beat feel a chill all down his spine.

“They don’t need — no, they don’t want you anymore. They asked me to join them .. and so here I am.”

It was then that Rhyme came back up the steps, grabbing the false-Beat’s arm with both of her hands. She’d asked him why he was standing around, and she told him to hurry up, or else they’d both lose the others. His eyes still on the real Beat, he answered her with a “‘Course, sis”, and put an arm around her shoulder before starting down the steps with her. He wasn’t smirking any longer, but the gleam in his eyes was vicious. His words floated through the air long after he’d left, and they made Beat weak.

It was for this reason that he’d hung back; he legs felt like jelly, and if he took a step, he felt that he might fall over.  He couldn’t even find the proper words to speak; his throat felt constricted, his tongue felt ten times larger than it actually was, and it was getting hard to breathe. If it couldn’t get any worse, he felt tears stinging his eyes, and he clenched his fists, forcing them back for as long as he could. Feeling his legs starting to give out even more, to the point that he could no longer stand, Beat leaned up against the nearest wall and slowly sank down to the ground. He’d been replaced. They had replaced him. His sister had replaced him. All the “real” Beat was to them was a portrait hanging on the wall, and they had this “new Beat” to take care of them now. Rhyme would look up to him as his older brother, Neku and Shiki would look to him as a friend.

And him? Well, he was nothing. Just a shadow in the background, someone they used to know but no longer needed to.

It made no sense when he tried to think about it, but he couldn’t be bothered to figure it out — not in his current condition. His head pounded, and he couldn’t think straight. Finally giving into the tears of frustration that he’d held up for so long, he leaned his head back against the wall and pulled his skull-cap down, so that his eyes were covered. “Neku, Shiki .. ..”

"I...I didn't want to have to hurt her..."

Though he spoke this aloud, there was no answer except - thanks to how spacious the inside of the building was - his own words, repeating back to him with an almost mocking sort of tone to their echo. it was true, though, even if nobody heard it. Ib and Mary had seemed so close. Such good friends. To see the girl in red having such apparent fun with someone her own age had made Garry happy, to see the girl smiling and not so sullenly serious for once.

Yet, the fact she was a painting and not real was quickly discovered, and he'd feared what Mary might do with her and Ib alone. His fears had ended up being founded: and in the end, they'd both had no choice but to destroy her to protect themselves. But - but - even though he'd saved Ib and himself that way: he'd felt awful about it. "Why did you kill me, Garry?" "I just wanted to have real friends!" ...He'd had many a nightmare where he'd seen nothing but flames, and a disembodied, shredded, burning head of Mary mouthing off said words. Would Ib have been happier if they'd found a way to save Mary? Would it have truly been a wonderful event?

Yet, as much as he worried about it, the fact was and always would remain. It was such a dangerous scenario that it was guaranteed that not everyone would escape alive. No matter how much he wished there could have been a way to save everyone, that was the way things had to be back then, and there was no changing it. ...It still made him feel like a terrible person, though. Had he let Ib down by making that decision? Was she... disappointed in him for doing that?

Argh, he just didn't know. 

Yet, letting himself get all depressed about this turn of events would solve nothing. Something was wrong here. He'd seen 'another him' smirking at him in such a cold way that he felt that must be so. He wanted to find out what was going on, but....he was all alone. He couldn't do this by himself. Yet...he was glad, in a way, nobody he 'knew' or cared about too much was here with him.

They could very well have ended up being misled by the 'other him' as well. He didn't want Ib to get into danger like that. Well, if he couldn't have Ib by his side to figure this out, he'd have to try and find someone else who did see him. He'd found one person who'd seen him, but the 'twin' of that person had chased at him after leading a group away, he only just managing to get away. He hoped the pink-haired girl had escaped as well. Walking around, he came across a painting, someone leaning on the wall near it. 

Wait - this painting had been the 'Hanged Man' before. Now, it was the 'Forgotten Portrait' - and it was HIM in the painting! Feeling an awful shudder run down his spine again, Garry tried to look anywhere but the painting. The person near the painting had an odd cap pulled down tight over their eyes, so he couldn't really see their face, but...talking to him seemed a good idea to distract from that awful painting. Even if the other couldn't see or hear him...he didn't care WHAT sort of a distraction he had, as long as he got one from all this.

"E-excuse me, yo-young man - what are you doing there?"

She remembered stopping at some spot in that twisted path where those mannequins couldn’t find her and the people she was traveling with. She remembered making a small little makeshift line in order to tell them not to cross when they were sleeping, all with a happy smile. And then, after a few moments, she was out like a light.

So how in the world did Vanille make it back to the gallery?

“…huh? I’m back here in this place?” the redhead stirred as she woke from her slumber. She looked around, expecting to see dripping paint and moving landscapes in paintings. Nothing. Everything looked as it should, right when Vanille first stepped in the gallery. “So, was everything else that happened just a dream? It sure felt real…”

Vanille shook her head vigorously, and patted her face a few times to make sure that she was awake. She looked around one more time, and got up from the floor. She was really back! Now she could get out of here! She didn’t know how long she’s been away from this world. Her sense of time was next to nothing there… she must’ve worried the others sick. Fang was probably going to give her an earful.

With that in mind, Vanille went to find the nearest exit. The quicker she got out and reunited with the others, the better. Keep in mind that they still had a world to save and a focus to fulfill. She really couldn’t stay here any longer than she needed to. When she went down to the first floor, Vanille could see the door. “Ah, finally! There’s the exit, so… Ciao, creepy gallery!” she cheered, waving to particularly no one. She walked briskly to the exit with a cheerful spring to her step. But before she could open the door, someone else beat her to it and went inside.

It was her friends.

Vanille’s face immediately lit up, seeing the sight of everyone again after experiencing that hell of a gallery. She immediately ran towards them with a smile. “Guys! Am I glad to see you all! You wouldn’t believe what happened just now! I wouldn’t stick around too long so let’s go!” She would apologize for worrying them, but for right now, the gang was together again! Now they just had to worry about…

…why did they just walk past her? Odd. She was hard to miss seeing as she was right in front of them. Surely Fang would’ve said something to her, like ‘where have you been’ or something. “Hah… guys? I’m sorry I worried you like that, but you don’t have to—”

Silence. It was as if she wasn’t even there.

Now Vanille was starting to worry. Were they that mad that she disappeared? “Guys…?” she started to say, following the group as they went. Sazh was talking about how weird the painting were, and Hope was agreeing with them. Vanille bit her lip slightly. What if they get sucked in like she did? She wasn’t going to let that happen. “Guys, be careful! There’s this weird painting—”

More silence. Did they even hear her?

“Sazh?” Vanille questioned, tapping on the older man’s shoulder to get his attention. No reaction from him. She then turned to the younger boy near her, and shook his shoulder. “Hope?” Vanille said, her tone growing more worried. No reaction from him either. She looked ahead and saw Snow and Lightning ahead, with the larger man shaking his head and saying he didn’t get it. They had to notice her right? “Hey, Lightning? Snow?” she inquired, but there was no answer from them either. Why… why were they ignoring her like this? Surely they all wouldn’t…

The redhead felt a lump growing in her throat as she then turned to her best friend. Of all people, Fang had to notice her presence, right? She had to. Fang was looking at something called “The Hanged Man,” or so she said. Vanille immediately went towards Fang’s side, tugging at her arm. “Fang? Fang please… you’ve got to hear me. You’ve got to! Please answer me!” she cried, eyes welling up as she searched for a reaction. Nothing. Green hues followed her friend’s focus, and Vanille couldn’t believe what she saw.

“The Forgotten Portrait.” It was her in the painting.

“Wh-What in the world? That’s me…!” she cried in a hushed whisper. Vanille took a few steps back, being in complete and utter shock and disbelief. As if one cue, she saw Fang finally glance towards her. And it wasn’t just her, everyone else’s eyes were on Vanille, finally. But no one said a word, it was as if Vanille was invisible and they were looking right through her. It was unnerving.

“Guys? Why are you looking at me like that? C-C’mon, quit it!” she cried, wrapping her arms around herself as a way of comfort. But it wasn’t until Vanille looked behind her that she realized what they’ve been looking at; another Vanille. The gang acknowledged her immediately, with Sazh being the first to point her out. Snow and Hope welcomed her, Lightning acknowledged her, and Fang… she gave this Vanille a hug, and then slung her arm around her shoulder asking where’s she been. “No… no Fang, she’s not me!” Vanille cried, but her cries fell on deaf ears.

Lightning had said that they should go, since it was a waste of time to stay, but the other Vanille suggested that they should stay, saying that it would be fun and they should look around. The boys all frowned, and Light and Fang both said that they had no reason to stay longer. Fang added that she was getting bored. But the other Vanille pleaded, clasping her hands together and smiling like she was asking for a gift. Then everyone eventually gave in.

The actual Vanille only stood in shock as she watched all of this go on. “G-Guys, that’s not me… that’s not me! No, don’t believe her… don’t—” she said in a distressed babble. The other Vanille looked backed at her with a uncharacteristic smirk. She knew she was there, and she knew she was watching.

“Don’t… don’t you dare,” Vanille hissed at the fake, but she ignored her too. “Don’t you dare do anything to them! I mean it! If anything happens to them, I swear…!” Her voice had cracked in her outburst, her emotions were starting to get the better of her. She… couldn’t believe that they didn’t notice her, even Fang of all people! Vanille found herself frozen in her disbelief, clutching her hands together like they were a lifeline.

He'd been with that young man, Marz, he remembered. They'd both found a 'hidden room' in which a rather twisted version of a nursery rhyme had played out, forcing them both to complete a puzzle against time - in the end, they'd completed the puzzle, saving themselves. Then sunlight - wonderous, bright sunlight had come into the room. And that was all he could remember. The sunlight must have knocked them both out somehow? When he'd woken up, he hadn't seen the young man Marz anywhere.

But - oh! He was back in the gallery. Yet, though he was safe, instead of being glad the nightmare was apparently over, Garry found himself worried sick.

What about the young man Marz? Miss Misham? That odd...grey creature called Soul-something? Had they managed to escape, too? Moving through the gallery, he tried to spy any sight of them, with no luck. And what was even more unnerving about it all was the fact that nobody seemed to notice or care about his presence, as if he were the 'invisible man' to them. Now, he was used to folk not paying him much attention in this 'real world'.

Ib had been, really, the only one to pay much heed to him before the nightmare started, as it was when it 'ended'. Still, something about this kind of 'ignoring' seemed to send a chill down his spine. He swore he saw, faintly, someone who looked the spitting image of himself among the crowds - who gave an unnatural, cruel smirk on seeing him before insisting for a group who was following him to 'stay longer'. Garry wanted to shout out, warn the group not to follow the 'Garry they could apparently see', but he was too scared to do so.

Sometimes...his own cowardice made him feel quite ashamed. Now was definitely one of those times. That 'other Garry' gave him nothing but bad vibes. Something was terribly wrong here.

Had he really escaped? Or was this just some cruel joke by the Fabricated World? ...He would have preferred it being a horrible joke, to be honest. Being ignored was an awful feeling. Suddenly, something snapped him out of his recallation of the events that had happened so far - a pink-haired stranger leading a group of other folk he didn't know deeper into the gallery.

...Had she just smirked at him in the same cruel way he'd seen the 'other him' do? She'd SEEN him, he knew. Shrinking back, the lavender-haired man shook his head, unable to comprehend any of it - and let out a little 'eep' at walking back into someone.

"O-oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to bump into you like that!"

...Wait, why was he apologizing when the other couldn't probably see him anyway? Probably just a bad habit, but - hey! This girl looked EXACTLY like the pink-haired person before. Only instead of a cruel look on her face, there was a look teetering - much like his own - on the edge of sadness and disbelief. 

The expression of the lady looked so...wounded, that even if she couldn't see him, Garry couldn't help pulling a red-wrapped candy from his pockets. He knew he usually only offered sweets he carried to friends, but he couldn't just stand there and watch someone look so upset!

"Uhm. Would you like a candy? To cheer yourself up? ...if you can even see me, that is..."

“..I..I see..” He looked down at his shoes now, then looking up at the other again.  That was definitely something to keep in mind, especially now!

  Wiping his tears with his sleeve, the albino child looked back to the elder figure, hope shined in eyes. He did his best to compose himself; fear welled up in him, fearing that his mother was forever lost in this nightmare. A few negative thoughts bubbled up into his mind; he then shook his head mentally.

“I’m hoping so! I already..sorta..mistook her for one of the paintings here.” He then appeared sheepish, rubbing the back of his head, “ Mutti somewhat looks like the paintings here, er…the..the ladies.” He bit on his quivering lip, “ I guess it’s because she wears blue and have brown hairs. “ He laughed this off nervously, ah, he barely escaped that lady too, dear.

  He'd still be a bit wary, of course. But as of right now, the other hadn't shown any 'suspicious' behaviour like Mary had that gave him reason to not trust him, so. Mental processing aside, the lavender-haired man could only give a sad little nod as the other muttered a nervous 'I see' at the grimness of it all. "I-I'm sorry that the outlook looks so bleak as that. I'm sure there's got to be some sort of solution, though." ...Goodness, that was a terrible attempt at trying to make the whole situation more positive right there. Perhaps that small bit of encouragement was not so bad after all, though, as the other looked up.

  He still seemed a bit teary, but more determined as well. Well, Garry was quite glad the other had gotten a positive effect out of that terrible choice of wording. Perhaps it was his time with Ib or something, but he couldn't stand to see those younger than him in low spirits. However, what young Marz said next made him feel quite faint - did he just say his mother looked like a lady in blue from one of the paintings? Which meant they could run into a lady in blue thinking it was the boy's mother and then...and then...!

  There was an almost inaudible little shriek then. Garry was not surprised at all to know that it was coming from him.

"Oh dear, t-that does make things dangerous, doesn’t it?” Despite shaking like a leaf, though, he said, “We’ll just have to try and make sure we don’t run into the wrong ‘Lady in Blue’ then, h-hopefully.” If he said he was going to do something to help another, he was going to do it. Even if he felt – no, knew, his cowardice would end in more problems made than problems solved here.

Back to the subject of her dragons, she couldn’t help but wonder if they were alright. Perhaps Ser Jorah was taking care of them, keeping them safe. She wouldn’t allow them to fall into the wrong hands once again, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he would come looking for her — knowing that he swore to protect her, he most likely would. She had left them with him and hoped that he wasn’t stupid enough to bring them along to the gallery, their time in Qarth was over and their stay had only been longer to rid the place of all it’s riches. “I am unsure.” Her tone had changed to a firmer one, although it wasn’t intentional nor did she want to scare off the man — it was something that just happened these days. No one was to touch what belonged to her, especially her dragons. They brought out a side of her that would make her Khal proud. They were her children and a mother was to always get fierce when her children were involved. 

The young albino starred at the other’s face for a few seconds, starring hard into his eyes as she attempted to make something out of him. He seemed trust worthy enough, but even those who were once close to her had betrayed and abandoned Dany — she wasn’t sure if she was about to trust another … but even if she lived to deny it, she was a kind woman. She did have a kind heart and it told her that he was to be trusted. He had helped her, after all and had provided her with some insight as to what the rose in her pocket was for. For now, she would place her trust in the man. 

“You are very kind, Garry.” Lips twitching into a half smile, she gently held the rose in between her fingers as her eyes gazed around the room. The vase in which she found the flower wasn’t too far off, but she didn’t remember whether there was still some water in it or not. Perhaps in the next room? Dany would ask about that in a few, but first she’d listen to what he had to say. She tried to hold back the smile that threatened to form on her lips, it always seemed to amused her when others didn’t exactly know how to pronounce the title of Khaleesi.

“Khal-ee-see.” A shake of her head, and her expression changed once more into a more serious one. “You musn’t be so humble. Here, we are in the same situation. Because of that, you and I are equals.” There really was no need for him to treat her so highly — she was indeed a queen, but that meant nothing here. They were in the same predicament, the least they could do is treat the other with the same respect and try their best to find a way out of here.

“As unbelievable as this may sound, we are in ‘The Fabricated World’.”

… What. Once again, she couldn’t help but raise a brow. They were inside the painting from the upper floor? … Things were beginning to make no sense at all, and became much more confusing than they initially were. What exactly was going on? This couldn’t be the work of the Thirteen she  had killed —

“But I came here through the portrait of the fish on the floor. I — …” … In all truth, she didn’t exactly recall what had happened. She remembered going to the art gallery, she remembered everyone leaving. She remembered being called downstairs and then the last thing she did remember was the painting of the fish. After that, she landed on a flight of stairs and ….

That would have been just terrible. Speaking of 'lost things of grave importance', though he did his best to be reassuring, it wasn't enough to convince the logical-seeming mind of the lady, she stating that she was unsure in a very firm tone that almost surprised him.

Goodness, she must certainly be protective of whomever she was so worried about! It reminded him of the times Mary had threatened Ib's safety, actually. Though he was a complete coward and more likely to run - preserve safety than to go anywhere near danger - he'd acted without thinking and shoved the painting girl to the ground, despite the fact she could easily have turned on his rose with the pallete knife she carried. That wasn't like him at all, usually! Perhaps he had been so unwilling to let anything bad happen to her it had overridden his cowardice for one fleeting moment: similar to how the lady's polite tone had turned so stern-sounding there.

Pondering over such things didn't give any clear-cut answers, though, so he should stop worrying about it, really...it was just making his head hurt, now he stopped to consider it better. His thoughts were cut short anyway, by noting he was being stared at again, his dull blueish-grey eyes nervously meeting the lady's own with a good deal of curiosity about them: but so timid he was that he could not possibly hold such an intense gaze for long, and he quickly decided looking awkwardly at his shoes was a better way to pass the time. Thankfully for him, the awkward moment passed soon, as did that odd gaze: what had that been all about? He couldn't quite fathom at this point.

There was little time to consider it, though, the lady musing that he was quite a kind person - and ah, there was another smile there. "W-well, I'm just glad that I can be of assistance. Even though I've been trapped in this awful place before, I don't really know everything. So in a way, I'm just as lost here as anyone else who might have got dragged here, given the place could have changed from the last time I got stuck in the place..." That said, he couldn't help admitting she had a point there: no matter who you were before you came here, when you were stuck here, you were stuck.

"Well...that's how I first got stuck here, too. It was only later I learned I was stuck in the 'Fabricated World' painting...but no matter which way you look at it, this world really doesn't make sense that much. I-i'm sorry I couldn't give a better explanation, but it's just the way this place is. Is there...anything else I can possibly help with, though?"

Dear, that sounded scary. 

He nodded again, at the other’s words, ” M..Mm, I can see what you mean.. If…my rose loses all it’s petals…I’ll..” He paused, ” I’ll be trapped here forever?” Which was better then death. 

And wait, did…did he come with anyone? He immediately perked up at that. ” A-Ah!  I..I did come with someone, Herr Garry.” He looked down at his feet, ” I came with mein Mutti..e-erm, Mother..and before I came and entered the Fabricated World, she told me to run on ahead to look at the exhibits.” 

A small pause then, a clear shudder from the seaweed-haired man obvious then. "To be honest, I don't really think I'd want to know about any 'new' scary stuff here. It was frightening enough b-before!"

That said, judging from the wide-eyed reaction the other gave regarding the 'wall of hands' comment, it seemed the young Marz hadn't yet run into that. "I certainly hope you don't run into anything alarming like that, young sir, but sadly, the fact is, you probably will. That's the kind of place this is." After finishing that sentence, he let out a soft sigh, before nodding grimly at the other's summary of the place.

However, the lavender-haired man grew most alarmed at hearing the other had come here with a parent figure...oh no. This sounded like Ib's situation a lot, from what he recalled the girl in red had told him. He was even starting to cry a little, and despite feeling a bit awkward about trying to hug someone who may or may not react well to it, Garry couldn't just stand there and watch someone cry, so he extended his arms and tried to give the other a kindly hug. "Please don't look so sad. Last time, when me and someone else got trapped here, when we managed to get out, everyone who had been 'in' the gallery before this nightmare event returned to the 'normal' gallery safe and sound, along with us ourselves. So I'm sure your mother must be safe somewhere...!"

Well, he certainly hoped this young fellow's mother was safe. It would be awful if the fellow lost her - he obviously cared for her a great deal.

"M-maybe...uhm - maybe I can help you find her?"

The other seemed like a nice gentlemen, from the looks of it. And he was glad that the other was well, perhaps, they could travel together while they..were in this horrendous yet beautiful place?

”..A-Ah, that would be appreciated, ja.” Was his response, a bit louder then beforehand - yet still a bit whispery though, he was intending to keep it down because of what may be lurking about. “..I’d like to know more of this…place.”

He soon perked up again, “…Garry?” A pleasent smile came onto his face, ” ..A pleasure to meet you, Herr Garry, I..I am März von Ludowing.” He bowed his head for a moment, ” Pardon my rudeness, for not introducing myself as well. “ 

Holding the blue rose that had been handed carefully back to him with utmost care in his hands, he nodded at the other confirming that they would like to know what he could about the place. "Even though I've been trapped here before, even I don't know everything about it, but I'll inform you on what I can. This is the 'Fabricated World' - yes, the same fabricated world in that painting. I don't know how, but we're stuck inside the world that painting envisioned. A place where the exhibits are alive and seem to dislike anyone from the 'real' world."

A short pause, before he continued. "I managed to run away from the exhibits that chased me, but the hands on the walls got to me. If someone was so unlucky as to lose all the petals of their rose...well, since you found me with my rose nearly fully wilted and saw what that did, you can p-probably guess for yourself what would happen. Even the most 'harmless' seeming things might be d-dangerous here..." That said all in a whisper in hopes nothing would hear him, he nodded at the other introducing himself.

"Oh, n-no, you don't need to worry about being 'rude', goodness! You just saved my life, after all, so I'm happy to help you whether you introduce yourself right away or not."

Her laughter then was cut off suddenly, a small ‘huh?’ proceeding the fluster that made itself evident on her cheeks now. An…official artist? No, no; she couldn’t dare take that sort of prominence…! Sure, she had been painting for seven years now, but by no means did she see herself as an artist. If anything, it was a hobby, a hobby that she would - in time - turn into a career. Too embarrassed by that fact, she hardly even noticed his attempt to hug her and instead blinked in confusion at his apology.

“Ah…? I-It’s no problem, Mr. Garry… I can tell that this Mr. Guertena means a lot to you, and if there’s any way that I can assist you, then I’d be more than happy to…”

And of course, as quick as that refreshing conversation started, as quick as it ended - they both now had to dwell over the melancholy topic of the entrance painting. Regrettably.

“So, you’ve been here twice then…?” My; now wasn’t that bad luck? It was one thing for a newcomer such as herself being here, but the other… he had to relive this not only once but twice…! She didn’t even think that she would be able to do such a thing, had she been in his shoes. “Well, it’s fortunate that your partner doesn’t have to relive this…this frightening experience…” Wait, something sounded crass there. “…N-Not that you should relive it either…” There we go.

Managing to recover from this after a few ruffles of his tattered coat, it was hard right now to tell who the more 'awkward and timid' one was - himself, or the artist, who seemed most surprised by his praise of her work. Well, he loved art! It was only natural he should want to praise and 'look up to' actual artists he met - not to mention Madam Misham was the first official artist he'd ever met! But now wasn't the time to let his thoughts wander meaninglessly. Not in this awful place. He'd learnt that the hard way.

"Actually...there is something very important I wish to ask." Since she was offering,  he should ask the biggest worry on his mind, by far. "Have you seen a young girl dressed in red called 'Ib' around here?" There. It had been asked. If the other hadn't seen Ib, that meant that the girl had been spared from this awful nightmare this time, surely. (It could also mean she was stuck somewhere, her rose near death...No! Garry, she wouldn't want you to think so pessimistically: snap out of it! She was a very clever young girl. Such a thing that had happened to him - twice now - surely wouldn't happen to someone so clever!) 

His question put forth, Madam Misham was quick to ask one of her own - a surprised, somewhat sympathetic sounding tone as she surmised that he'd been here twice. "Yes, that is the case. Unfortunately." A pause then, he tilting his head in thought. "But now that I think about it, I wouldn't have met my wonderful companion if I hadn't gotten stuck here that first time. So I g-guess I'm thankful for that much. And if I hadn't gotten stuck here now, I wouldn't have gotten to meet such a nice official artist such as yourself!" Well, when he thought of things that way, that made this whole nightmare a little easier to bear.

Those somewhat philosophical statements made, he blinked at the other offering to come along with him.

"Ah, really? Thank you. It would be a lot safer to travel with someone else until I find others, y-yes. Though, I must admit...what I'll do once I find a number of others, I don't quite k-know. I guess I'll think of that when and if I come across them." A pause then, before he nodded in grim agreement with the other's final statement - but before he could speak, a loud scraping noise nearby stopped his words cold.

"W-wha-what was that?! It sounded like metal being dragged..." There was only one exhibit he could think of made of metal. Those headless 'Death of the Individual' statues. Had t-they been found already?! "...Please tell me I just imagined that noise and you didn't hear it too..."

“D-don’t be ridiculous! Alright, so I’m a wimp. That’s…nothing new for me. At all. But I’m not g-going to abandon someone who needs help.”

“If you say so. Actually, that’s pretty brave of you to say that, seeing how the lady in red is coming our way nonstop. It would be better off if you run away when the lady catches up though. I don’t want anyone dying on me just because of a twisted ankle. And I’ll always be the one to have my ass served twofold. Always.” [Okay, let’s stop with the duality jokes. This is a serious matter and during an event like that, everyone needs to be serious.]

[When the mustardblood picked up the doll, he heard a sudden shriek from the man in front of him.] “…What? What’s wrong? Afraid of this doll?” [Sollux tilted his head to the side a bit in confusion. A doll can’t possibly do much, right? Or is he just underestimating this gallery? Either way, the doll really does give the hacker an ominous feeling. Like misfortune is gonna jump at him very soon…]

[The troll was hit with a sudden chill when he heard a voice. Are… the voices of the imminently deceased back to annoy him again? As he listened, he saw words being written in purple right next to him.]

NEW FRIEND SOLLUX.

AND GARRY! YOU’RE BACK, TOO!

WON’T YOU PLAY WITH ME?

PLAY WITH ME.

P ̀L A̧ Ý ͘P L ÁY̵ ͡P Ĺ A ̧Y

“Wh… How the hell does this thing know my name? And what does it mean you’re back…? Garry, right??” [Whatever the doll meant by play, it probably isn’t going to turn out very good at the end…]

“NO! We’re NOT going to play with you today, thanks!”

[And that was so very understandable as many dolls began tumbling down from an unknown source. The dolls were… headed towards their roses? Oh crap, this was bad. If they get their hands on his rose, then he’s a goner. The psionic reached for the rose in his pocket and held onto it tightly]

“…Ugh!” [Voices. So loud. All of them infiltrating his mind. Play with me, they all said. Sollux’s head really did hurt. It was so annoying to hear voices again. When the other grabbed onto his hand, the troll thought that it was a signal to GET THE HELL AWAY FROM THESE DOLLS BECAUSE YOU’LL DIE IF YOU DON’T. Well, his ankle didn’t hurt THAT much, now that he’s had a bit of time to recover. The hacker just got up and ran as fast as he could with the man. But still, the voices in his head really did bother him a lot.]

However, at the other saying to be willing to try and help someone that would obviously slow him down was 'brave', Garry couldn't help but look down at his shoes awkwardly. "We're both stuck here. So we should do our best to help each-other out, right? Going at it alone in such a scary place...goodness, I wouldn't want to do that, so nobody else should have to battle all these terrors b-by themselves. Besides, there's too much awful stuff going on as is. It's a nice change to...uhm...for lack of a better word, 'be nice'!"

Musing aside, he couldn't help but frown at the other stating he was 'always the one who got his butt kicked'. "If I can help it, I'll t-try not to let that happen again." '...Even if you do still look scary', he couldn't help thinking to himself. However, there was soon a far more frightening thing to worry about. That doll....THAT doll. Oh, he'd had so many nightmares about what happened in the room containing thousands of these dolls it really wasn't funny.

About him failing to get the key out in time and the giant doll 'getting' him, whereas in 'real life' he HAD gotten the key in time. The other wondered why he was screaming, but Garry knew this disturbing doll would all too soon show it's colours - and exactly 'why' it was so feared. That thought was proven very correct as it - like it had done to him the first time he came - knew the creature's name without he even saying it. The voices...they demanded with a ringing in his head to play.

The other asked what was going on, but there was no time! They had to get away from the dolls...the voices...the voices were so loud and so many, and so frightening. He had to run with this 'Sollux' to get away from them, before he froze in utter fear and they DID get him - or the other, for that matter! Managing to successfully grab the other's hand, he ran with the creature, not once looking back - shaking like a leaf as he did so.

Taking a sharp left at the next turn, then a right, he paused to see the dolls run past, but it appears they thankfully had not seen them take the right passage way, assuming they'd run straight, and running down, still cackling the same phrases over and over as they went.

Where are you going, Garry and Sollux?

Play!

PLAY! D͡ ̡O ̧Ń ̴'͘ ͢T͞ ̨ ̧Y̕ O ̸Ư ͘ W̨ A̡ ̕N T T O͟ ̢ ̶P̛ L A̷ Y҉ ́?͠ ̀? ͢? ̸

Garry ducked his head down to try and block the many voices out...but as the dolls got farther away, so did their voices. Until finally, it was silent once more.

"...Ugh...t-that was horrible. Don't worry, I hate hearing those awful voices in my head, too."

He shook his purple-haired head violently, as if to try in vain to shake the screeching tirade of voices away from his memory.

"But, I owe you an explanation, now. You see, as the dolls 'said' - this isn't my first time being stuck here. I've been trapped here once before. With a girl named Ib. We managed to escape, but I had hoped we would never have to worry about this nightmare world again. That it had been closed off for good. 

It looks like I was wrong, and I got trapped h-here again. As awful as being here again is, at least I can try and h-help others trapped as well."

As he began to speak once more about the artist Guertena, she looked back at him, listening silently. His lack of eminence, so to speak, reminded her much of herself: she wasn’t a well-known artist either, so she could relate to how it felt to be in the shadows. When he mentioned how he’d like to contribute to the artist’s works, a small smile tugged at her lips now. “…Um… If you’d like… Once we get out of this place and to safety, I’d happily teach you how to paint…”

She then flushed lightly as he called her ‘Madam’; as far as she recalled - oh, being a recluse did have its consequences - the title of ‘Madam’ was to address women of authority. In her opinion, she wasn’t worthy of such a status. She supposed that she’d have to shove her modesty aside; if that’s what he’d like to call her, then so long as he was happy, she didn’t mind. “Yes, I did walk into a painting… ‘Fabricated World’, I think.”

  “It’s… possible, yes… I mean, unless we have some sort of significance to this Guertena to be the only two here, then… the chances of others being here seem very high…” 

"R-really? That would be such a wonderful honour, to learn from an official artist how to best do his works justice! Oh, thank you ever so much for such a kind offer!" Overcome with thankfulness and appreciation for the other's kindness, this mix of powerful emotions was enough for the man to actually step forward and try to give the other a warm hug.

Wait...wait. It wasn't p-polite to just go hugging people without their permission, oh dear! He shouldn't have let himself get so carried away there.

Stepping away very awkwardly, he spoke again, "...Uhm...I-i'm so sorry. I just got caught up in my thankfulness too m-much then. If there's anything you would like in return, please, don't hesitate to ask." Wringing his hands together, now, he looked at the ground in hopes it would dispel some of that awkwardness, but, no dice there right now. Thankfully, the awkwardness seemed to fade when the subject of the serious 'walking into a painting' business came up. Hm, so his suspicion that Madam Misham had gotten here the same way he and Ib originally had was true.

Did that mean the escape route he and Ib had used would be the same, too? Or would it be different? If it was the same, then he could - if Ib had not been dragged here too - very well be the only one here with knowledge of the correct escape route, goodness. What if he turned out to be wrong, though? Oh dear, such a worry: he didn't want to tell someone the exit was a certain place and let them down. Let alone someone who had saved his life. "So it's highly likely more than two people got stuck here." That soft whisper to himself aside, he then explained:

"I've gotten stuck here once before, but last time was only with one other person. I'm not sure how this would work with a lot of people, to be honest..."

Trailing off in thought, he nodded firmly in agreement with that last statement.

"Being without the person who got stuck here with me last time is a terribly daunting task. However, at least it means such terrors will not have to be experienced by that close companion of mine again. But that still means - if others are here -  they might be getting scared even now! I hope they're al-alright. Maybe I s-should try to locate any others, but..."

Again, he trailed off, but it was in fear, not thought, this time.

It was horrible, this place. Even if it did house various beautiful artwork - it seemed like it could kill as well. He was hoping to find his mother once again, and then they could escape together! That was his ideal objective, and he needed to be fast about it. 

His pace seemed to gradually slow down when he saw that another had fallen. Goodness! It was someone else from the gallery it seemed. Thank god he wasn’t alone! He thanked Moira to bring him across this person. The albino had seen the other’s rose was wilted, almost dying! He couldn’t allow for that to happen. He took the other’s rose from the other’s grasp, which happened to be weak grasp. He found a vase and dipped it in, soon prospering to it’s original help. Satisfied, the albino walked back to the other, taking a quick glance around to make sure that there weren’t any paintings lurking in the shadows or mannequins willing to give chase. 

He had returned the other’s blue rose to the other, a pleasant smile appeared on his features as he gave it back - then taking a step back, giving him the space. Thank goodness he was alright…! 

“W-why - thank you ever so much for reviving my rose. I owe you a great deal in thanks. Would you mind…stepping closer so I can see who you are?”

At the other’s query, he had taken a step forward, taking a breath. ” ..A..Ah, you’re welcome, sir.” He said in quiet tone, not wishing to alert any of the predators lurking in the shadows. “..I’m just glad that you’re alright..” 

Well, if the 'monsters' here had noticed, the rose wouldn't look so healthy, so maybe he was worrying too much. Trying to figure out if he was worrying too much or not, the other spoke, saying he was welcome and he was just glad he was alright, in a soft, quiet tone that the lavender-haired man had to listen to intently to hear.

" Well, isn't that nice? I feel like I should thank you with something important for such kindness, goodness."

It was nice to see someone else who tried to be kind to others, and he really wanted to do something to show his appreciation - after all, the other had saved his life! Oh, perhaps he could give the other information about this odd place? He'd feel quite horrid indeed if something bad happened to the person who'd helped him and he could have prevented it if he had said something when he had the chance. "Perhaps I can better explain this awful place and what to look out for for you?" A small, hopeful smile, despite the scary surroundings, from Garry there.

“I’m s-sorry. There’s so many strange exhibits chasing anyone they see here, I thought for a moment you might be one of them, as silly as that sounds. But you’re not chasing me, so…”

[Yes, mistaking a troll for an exhibit is understandable. But what got to the yellowblood was the slight hint of fear in the other’s tone of voice.] “…Come on, man. It makes me uncomfortable talking with people who think that I’m a potential threat, so how bout a change of tone?” [And then there goes the thing behind the window, banging on it to create a crack. Sollux could of course see the other’s face paling.]

“The Lady in Red - she’s going to break through the g-g-glass!”

“Fortunately I have enough experience to know that she’s going to break through the glass! How about don’t stand there and get away?” [The troll began running away before shouting at the man a question on whether to tag along or not. Instead of replying with words, the other took action and ran with the troll.]

” Let’s just h-hope she didn’t bring her ‘friends’ with her for this chase…!”

“Yeah…” [Sollux replied in a rather quiet voice. ‘Let’s prepare for the worst, but hope for the best.’ All they had to do was keep running till they drop, right? Piece of cake! However, the troll was awfully careless and didn’t watch where he was going.]

“Gah!” [And so he tripped over a mannequin head and fell. There. He dropped. Gosh, that really did hurt. Wearing a T-Shirt made trips several times less bearable to the boy. Upon getting back up, Sollux noticed that parts of the skin on the elbow were cut open, revealing mustard-colored blood.] “…And that’s another part in being inhuman. Don’t mind it.” [The male tried to stand up again, only to find out that the fall had twisted his ankle. Oh shoot.]

“…My ankle’s kinda twisted. I can’t go on like this.” [Sollux let out a sigh and looked at the other.] “You could always go on without me if you think the lady in red’s gonna get to us.” [Then there was a sudden sound beside the male. A… what is that? A blue doll? The mustardblood picked up the doll by its arm and observed it. It’s just a doll, why would he even bother with taking a close look anyway?]

“…What’s a doll doing here? Looks disturbingly ugly if you ask me. Besides, I’m too old for dolls.”

However, he really was a coward, plain and simple. He wasn't going to deny that. On the bright side, though, this cowardice meant he was able to run and thus keep pace with the other awfully well indeed. (Mainly because he was terrified out of his wits right now, but it was still a small 'good point' to his biggest personal flaw.)

  The two of them managed to get quite a distance, but a creepy mannequin head seemed to decide they'd run far enough for the time being, randomly appearing in the midle of their path. Garry dodged it fine, but the other was not as lucky.

Stopping, then, out of concern, the sight he saw wasn't a pretty one. An unnatural mustardy yellow blood was seeping a bit from the other's elbow here and there, and the other's ankle seemed to be hurt, too - this was confirmed when the other tired to stand up and failed. Well, since the Lady in Red had to drag that heavy frame of hers everywhere she went, that slowed her, so they still had time to recover and get away, right?!

The other spoke up, then, telling him not to mind the blood before suggesting that the other leave him behind if he thought the Lady in red would catch them. "D-don't be ridiculous! Alright, so I'm a wimp. That's...nothing new for me. At all. But I'm not g-going to abandon someone who needs help." Even though his voice shook like a leaf on a windy day, his determination to do the 'kind' thing seemed clear. However, he let out a high-pitched shriek and jumped back at seeing the doll the other had picked up...oh no...oh no! This was really, really bad!

Before he could plead with the strange creature to put the doll down, a voice came.

An all-too famillar 'voice', and text on the walls to go with it.

NEW FRIEND SOLLUX.

AND GARRY! YOU'RE BACK, TOO!

WON'T YOU PLAY WITH ME?

PLAY WITH ME.

P L A Y ̀ P ̀L A̧ Ý ͘P L ÁY̵ ͡P Ĺ A ̧Y

Garry's shriek turned unmanly very quickly as lots of blue dolls seemed to tumble from nowhere, all doing their best to try and grab their two roses.

"NO! We're NOT going to play with you today, thanks!"

“I too have lost something. I do not think they’re here, but I am worried about them.” Her dragons. She wasn’t supposed to be here for this long. It was just a quick visit and then she would be on her way, back to her “children”, back to trying to persuade the Thirteen to give her ships to sail back to her home. Back to Ser Jorah. Back to her people. Instead … she was stuck here. Being fooled around with by whoever was behind this ordeal. Oh, how she will punish them if she got the chance. No one, not Ser Jorah, not the Thirteen — not anyone would save them from what was to come if she didn’t get out of here quickly. 

Once again, she glanced back down at the withered rose in her hand as she listened to his explanation. To any other, this would just be a tale told by the Wildlings, or those of the superstitious North. A flower which is tied to your life force, when it wilts —

Eyes widening for a split second, she brought the rose closer to her face, gently touching the few petals that were left with a finger as her lips parted to speak. “When the rose wilts, so too will you wilt away …” She mumbled, quickly catching on the message the painting before had delivered. Albeit being somewhat skeptical, she would at least consider his words because of the fact that she now realized she was feeling a little more tired than she was before she got here. Could this rose really be the only thing standing between her and the Red God? His sentence trailed off, and she tilted her head so that she could look at him from the corner of her eye.

“You would have died.” From the sound of it, it seemed as if he had been here before. If that was true, then she would immediately request his assistance. This was no place for her. She was alone, without a single soul she knew — it made her a bit uncomfortable. Soon enough, though, his facial expression changed once she had introduced herself, and it made her chuckle silently to herself.

“Not ‘Lady’. A Lady is the daughter of a Lord. Perhaps even a Knight.” Pressing the hand that wasn’t holding the rose to her chest, she corrected him. “Khaleesi.” It was who she was. A Khaleesi. Wife of the great Khal Drogo. Mother of Dragons. It would be a lot easier for him to just address her as Khaleesi, not many called her by her real name anymore — she didn’t mind it, though. With a shake of her head, she dismissed his worries. Dany knew he would have no idea of who she was. Once the name “Targaryen” reached someone’s ears … their reaction was a bit different, most of the time.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Garry.” Indeed, it was nice to see someone who perhaps knew what was going on around here. Another person. She was getting tired of the tricks that were being played on her and hoped someone would shine some light on what was happening.

Given that roses were connected to the life sources of everyone here, and he and Ib had been the first souls 'trapped' in this torrid place, it almost seemed laughable, were he not in such a dangerous area that didn't really make him feel like laughing, much. Come to think of it - if his rose had been waiting down here for him, was Ib's one still here as well? He hadn't seen a red rose, but he hoped nothing horrid happened to it. Perhaps his lapse into worry had been a bit too obvious expression-wise, though, for the lady Dani spoke up, admitting she had lost something of great importance.

More than one thing, too. "Well, if they didn't find their way to this gallery, I'm sure they're quite fine." He couldn't help but try to reassure the other, out of kindness and out of the fact he knew what losing something you cared about was like. It had happened when he'd been separated from Ib and Mary that one time. Much like him trying to explain and convince the other to get the rose to water: even if being around a 'royal' was nerve-wracking, he was trying to tell her this out of that same kindness. Thankfully, though the explanation sounded insane -  and he was painfully aware of that fact, fidgeting a bit now that all that 'daft-sounding' tale had left his lips - the other recalled what the 'note' had said, musing it's words aloud.

After doing so, she finished his sentence that had trailed off for him, and he nodded. 

"Y-yes...that's exactly right. It's also why I was - am -  a little worried at seeing your rose already a little wilted. Even if I barely know you, it would be awful if something happened! Nobody would want to be stuck in this horrid place forever, after all - at least I think so anyway."

A little nervous laugh, then, before the other seemed to insist he not call her 'Lady' - even if he still thought she was royalty. Instead, she seemed to prefer the term Khaleesi more. (The lady's guess that he would have no idea what that meant was well-founded, for he just smiled and nodded at the term.)

"Kha-less-ee? Is that how you say it? Well, if that is what you would prefer to to be called, then as a humble civilian, I shall oblige to that!" That said, the other mused it was a plseaure to meet him - earning a rather nervous fidget indeed and a bit of a red face from Garry himself - before his face turned it's normal shade at a serious question. 

"As unbelievable as this may sound, we are in 'The Fabricated World'. Trapped inside the world the painting depicts - where the exhibits are alive and want to rip our roses apart...at least, that's what I understand from it."

“No need to worry yourself, ser. I was only trying to find my way out of here.” Taking a few more steps towards him, she could now see his features clearly — and he in turn, her own. He was indeed a bit different compared to those back in her land. Not even those of Qath, as odd as they looked, held no resemblance to his appearance. Dany was a bit curious about where he came from, perhaps she would ask if she ever came across this man again.

“Have you tried putting that rose in water yet, by the way? Not to be an annoyance, but it’s not a good idea to let it wilt too much, I’ve found…”

The rose? … It was already wilting, wasn’t it? Keeping it in water alone wasn’t going to bring it back to life. Her gaze shifted to the white rose in her pocket, reaching over to it and wrapping her fingers gently around it’s stem once more before plucking it out of the pocket. Her brows furrowed together as she stared intently at the rose for a few seconds. It was just … a rose, wasn’t it?

“It is just a flower, is it not? What would water do, when it is already nearing the end of it’s life?” Little did she know that because of that very reason, so was her own. At this point, not many things were what they seemed to be and so she would do as he said once she found a source of water. Returning her gaze to him, her head tilted to the side just a tad — he had yet to introduce himself. Normally those who saw her would have already introduced themselves; however something told her he didn’t belong to Qarth … or any of the Seven Realms for that matter. With a gentle sigh, she bowed her head forward.

"Is there something on my face, madam?"

He couldn't help patting around his face as he said that to see if he could find what the other was staring at so.

Maybe his hair had garnered this somewhat intense-sort of keen observation? For some reason, that seemed to happen a lot. Even when he was a child himself like Ib, he recalled his mother and he being stopped in the street and his parent being asked several times if she dyed her son's hair that colour. It had been like this since he could remember, what was so odd about that? Some people had blue or green hair, which was even stranger than his purple shade, so this was normal!

However, his increasing amount of bewilderment about that issue would have to wait for another time, as the other reassured for him not to worry, as she was just trying to find a way out of this place.

"Well, if I wasn't very worried a...close compainon of mine....might have suddenly been dragged here, I'd be focusing on trying to find the way out again, too."

This was the truth: as terrifying as the place was and as much as he wanted to just go home - what if she was stuck here? He wouldn't forgive himself if he couldn't help her escape again.

At mention of the rose, the other seemed rather sceptical, which was perfectly understandable, really. If someone had told him when he first got stuck here that it wasn't a good idea to let the blue rose wilt, he would have wondered why a flower - a rather pretty one, but a flower nonetheless - was that important to not let die, as much as he knew about the 'meanings' of flowers. Sigh, what a dilemma. He could just leave the issue alone, that was true, but goodness, it would be awful if anyone died here. It was impossible for him to ignore it.

"Well, normally, yes, that would be the case. These roses are, uhm, how shall I put this? Rather special."

A pause then, before he explained what he knew as best he could.

"There's vases of water all around this place, and putting a rose in them seems to restore a rose to full health. I don't know how that works, myself, but it's true. Also, we seem to be 'connected' to these roses somehow. My rose got petals torn off it already, and when that happened: my life force seemed to be torn away just as the petals were. If someone hadn't come along myself unconscious on the ground and put my rose in water...."

He trailed off, shivering even more then, but it was probably all too clear what he was going to say there. He could have easily died, and he really didn't like to think about it. The other then gave a rather regal greeting indeed, earning a very surprised expression from him.

"Does that make you royalty, mada- no - lady Stormborn? G-goodness me, I've never heard of such a title! I do apologize."

He actually stopped to bow, then, before introducing himself.

"I'm just an ordinary 'civilian', myself. My name is Garry. Even if this place is terribly frightening, it's nice to meet a pleasant face."

An art gallery wasn’t something she often went to. … In fact, she’s never truly been to one. Back home, before the Dothraki, the only paintings she’d seen were the ones hanging from the walls of her “castle”. They were nothing important, really. Just some of flowers, others of villages … a few of her family — so on and so forth. Nothing like this, however. Qarth was a brilliant city, she would admit. Beauties could be found on almost every single corner — but she wasn’t exactly too interested in them, she did appreciate them to an extent, though. And so she found herself in this gallery out of curiosity, and perhaps a bit of boredom. It was nice to have some time alone, once in a while. Away from Ser Jorah, Doreah, and the Thirteen. Her people were in good hands, well fed and rested. The only thing she really had to worry about was keeping them from taking things from the city … it was, however, in their nature and so she would have to deal with that later.

The only company she wouldn’t mind at the moment, though, was the company of her children — her dragons. After a long session of training and then feeding them, Deanerys had decided to let them rest, leaving them with Doreah. Oh, but she missed them, anyways. She would often wonder if this is what being a mother was like. Never wanting to leave your children behind, always worrying when you knew they were in safe hands. That right was stripped from her once, and it was given back to her when her dragons had hatched. 

Arms folded loosely over her stomach she made her way through the art gallery, sparing a few seconds to view some of the art work before making her way to the next. Every once in a while, she would come across a few of the inhabitants of Qath and they would bow their head. With a light smile, and a nod of her head she would dismiss them before continuing on her way. Once she had gone around the bottom floor of the gallery, she decided to make her way to the top floor, where there weren’t too many people. In fact, there weren’t too many paintings up here now that she noticed. Only a few smaller ones adorning the walls next to a large one in the far corner.

Slowly walking towards the painting, the silver haired female eyed the odd looking portrait. “Fabricated World.” There was something so … dark, about it. The palette was one she had never seen before — compared to the others, it was a bit out of place and —

BANG!

The sudden loud thud had caused her to jump lightly, green eyes widening for a split second before she regained her composure. Maybe something had fallen in the lower floor. Turning her head back to the paintings, a slender brow raised upward at the odd sight. Was there paint leaking from the image? Lifting her hand up, Deanerys hesitantly reached for the blue substance coming from behind the painting, before snatching her hand back when a quick series of bangs reached her ears. Spinning around, she dropped her hand to her side as she eyed the red letters that marked the ground.

COME, DANY

What?

Turning back to the painting, the blue liquid had now turned into letters. Inhaling deeply but quietly, she slowly crouched down to level as she leaned in to read what it said.

come down below dany i’ll show you someplace secret

Was this some kind of joke? If this was some kind of invitation to a gathering, then Jorah would have came to get her, right? Her lips thinned and she stood. She was a Khaleesi … she wouldn’t be scared this way, she wouldn’t allow anyone to try and scare her. She was the Mother of Dragons. The rightful heir to the Iron Throne. She would make sure to speak to he or she who was deciding to play this trick on her. The gallery had darkened considerably since she had last noticed — which she found odd, since it wasn’t that long ago when light shun through the windows. Had she decided to pay this gallery a visit much later in the day than she had imagined? It didn’t matter now as she made her way back down below … noticing that there was no one else in the gallery anymore. Where had everybody gone to? Was this part of their little game? No matter, she’d escort her way out of here as soon as she spoke to he who was in charge. 

Slowly walking through the empty galls of the gallery, she came across one of the paintings she looked over before. There was something about it that made her uneasy … perhaps it was the odd looking fish which was depicted in the image … or maybe it was just those blue footprints, the same shade as the substance from the room above, which was leading into the painting. Biting the inside of her cheek, Dany cautiously made her way around the painting to where the footprints were, leaning down to reach for the painting —

With a small yelp, she found herself being pushed towards the painting by what felt like someone SHOVING her in. Expecting to fall onto the floor, she was rather surprised that she fell right INTO it.

—-

With a loud thud, Dany fell onto the cold, hard floor. Sucking in a large amount of air through her teeth, she tensed at the pain that was currently running through her body. What in the name of the Gods had happened? Where was she? Once she pain had dulled, she slowly got up and dusted herself down. Placing her hand on the wall she made her way down the steps she had landed on before taking a left. Sliding her hand across the wall, she quickly brought it back when something cold and slimy had touched her fingers. Green eyes looked over the wall as her stomach churned just a bit.

     O        E           O                  C                 M C        M          C         M                     O                  E                                             E 

This wasn’t right. None of this felt right. Swallowing thickly, she followed the letters without much of a hurry, trying to get herself to calm down before anyone saw her this way. She was a Dragon. Dragon’s were fierce, powerful creatures. Dany will not allow herself to seem meek and controllable once again. If this continued, whoever was doing this would meet her wrath. Reaching a door, she notice a small vase atop a table blocking it’s entrance — a single white rose inside of it. It had been wilting, it’s remaining petals turning a light brown color. Slender fingers wrapped lightly around it’s stem as she picked the rose from it’s vase. She wasn’t sure why, but something in her gut had told her to pick it up before deciding to move the table. Once that was out of the way, she entered the room in hopes of finding someone who would clear up what was going on.

Instead, another painting. Wonderful. … However, this time, there was a blue key on the ground. She was beginning to get sick of the color blue. Never mind that, though. She picked up the key without a seconds hesitation before looking back up at the painting … more so, it’s description.

“When the rose wilts, so too will you wilt away.”

Her fingers wrapped a little tighter around the wilted rose in her hand. Those words had unsettled her more than she already was. She would brush it off as some coincidence, it didn’t mean anything, right? Shaking her head, Dany made her way out of the room, ignoring the words on the wall, quickly making her way down the hallway before coming to a halt.

T H I E    F 

Worded in front of her in red letters. Her brows narrowed as she stepped over the red letters without paying much attention. This was beginning to become insulting. How dare they call her a thief. She had taken nothing of importance, a wilted rose and a key were nothing to get upset about. She would return the key to it’s rightful owner if she ever found her way out of her. As for the rose … it was already dying, what was there to do with it? Coming to the end of the hall, she reached another door. This must have been the way out. Quickly reaching for the door knob, she wrapped her hand around it before turning.

Nothing. 

STEP …. STEP.

Becoming rigid, she pulled her hand away from the door and glanced to her left. Someone was coming down the stairs. … … There was nothing to fear. She could take care of herself, no one would do her harm in this city. They had promised her that much. Tucking the rose into a pocket, she slowly took a step back from the door and turned to the dark hall.

“Who goes there …?”

Then again, his lighter only had a minuscule amount of liquid left. It wasn't a sure thing it would light a smoke, let alone give enough light to brighten these impossible surroundings. Wait: what was that? Were those footsteps? One of those horrid headless mannequins?! No, no. The sound seemed a ways off: probably hearing things from the stress. Oh dear, now he really was stressing, from a mixture of panic, fear and not having had a smoke in a while.

He'd rather not have to deal with this stress again, so he took the lighter out and attempted to see if it would work. Thankfully, there seemed to be enough for the small task - though it was hardly enough to provide much in the way of seeing where he was this time. A long sigh escaped him after he took a while to puff at the 'cancer stick' and calm his nerves. Well, this was problematic.

He was quite worried about the strangers he'd met before and where they'd gone in this confusion of darkness. Certainly hoped nothing had happened, even if one of them was very scary-looking. Ib, too. What if she was stuck in the dark here all alone? Wandering this place alone, before he met her - it hadn't been a nice experience, and he didn't like to think of Ib (or anyone, really) having to brave such frightening things by themselves.

Finishing the smoke after a few more minutes, he paused to snuff it out and tuck the rubbish away in another pocket for now, before continuing - and then those footsteps again. Was he hearing things again? No, it seemed these were the same footsteps from before, and he'd gotten closer to them without intending to thanks to how dark it was. An unknown shadow suddenly stepped from an open doorway nearby. A most unmanly whimper indeed escaped him.

No, no, no, not the mannequins agai - huh? Wait, it spoke. It was a person? Stepping just a bit closer, timidly, there was just enough light to see that it was indeed another person and not an 'exhibit'. One with a white rose, too. It seemed like there was more than just 'two' people stuck here this time? Oh, but the rose was a little wilted already...however, he hadn't the time to advise the other to put it in water, she demanding to know who was there.

"Eeep!" No, Garry, that wasn't a proper answer. Even if her tone startled you, try again. "Y-you did give me quite a start there. I'm the only other 'person' here. Sorry if I interrupted you or anything." 

An awkward silence that Garry was all-too used to filled the air on 'his' side of the conversation, before he spoke again.

"Have you tried putting that rose in water yet, by the way? Not to be an annoyance, but it's not a good idea to let it wilt too much, I've found..."

“You can’t just go thinking that I’m someone to run away from. Not cool, bro. And yeah, I said someone, not something.” [The yellowblood adjusted his glasses and snapped at him. ‘I didn’t know that adults were cowards.’ Sollux mused before looking back at the other. But this man in front of him had probably been through a lot… Probably a more experienced traveler in these parts too.] “…I guess we can hope to at least acquaint with each other? Yeah… Anyway, I’m S—”

[Sollux’s voice came to a sudden halt when he heard something banging on the nearest window. He turned to look at it, only to find a small crack on its surface.] “…Screw introductions. We gotta have to make a run for it because who knows when they’ll smash that window open and chase us.” [‘And it’s best to stick together too. I wouldn’t want you to die on me even though I have no damn idea on who the heck you are.’ Thought the troll whose rose has fewer petals than the other. The crack was growing bigger up to the point it was about to break the whole window into pieces. In the middle of running away, he looked back at the man.]

“So, uh, you coming or not?!”

However, the last thing he expected was the odd being to actually speak English and snappily tell him to not think he was someone to run away from.

"O-oh, is that so?"

The thing's appearance still frightened him very much, but it wasn't chasing after him at all: just talking. Still, the last time he'd trusted easily, it hadn't worked out well for Ib or himself. He'd still be a bit wary, but he'd be lying if he said his own cowardice didn't make him a bit ashamed. It was probably his worst trait, but he really couldn't help it.

"I'm s-sorry." He'd do the right thing and admit his wrong, though, he could do that much. "There's so many strange exhibits chasing anyone they see here, I thought for a moment you might be one of them, as silly as that sounds. But you're not chasing me, so..." Suddenly, a sharp banging noise diverted his geniune - if not still frightened and nervous - apology.

Whirling around in alarm, his face paled at seeing the window crack.

"The Lady in Red - she's going to break through the g-g-glass!"

He'd seen it happen enough times when he was last here to know what was probably going to happen. Of course, knowing what was going to happen only made the fear worse. The strange creature then advised they leave the chat for another time and just get out of here. Well, that was something he could definitely agree with the other with! He didn't want to be around when the lady came through that window, no sir.

Garry didn't need to be told twice - and instead of giving any 'word' in conversation, he let his actions do the talking. His actions being to start running and trying to run along with the grey hroned being as fast as he could.

...He had rather nasty memories of the Lady in red, and he'd rather take his chances with this scary-looking monster who DIDN'T look like it wanted to chase him. 

" Let's just h-hope she didn't bring her 'friends' with her for this chase...!"

It surely was a possibility, not one that should be tended to at that moment, but certainly something that shouldn’t be brushed aside and forgotten altogether. Now, as he addressed her hobby, a pale flush brushed upon her cheeks, a small gasp leaving her lips. A keen one, he was. (Then again, her appearance, as well as materials, didn’t really make it hard to guess.) With a shy nod, she confirmed his accusation towards her. “…Indeed… I am an artist,” she murmured, “And I suppose you could say I was looking for inspiration from this Mr. Guertena… I must admit though, regrettably, I… I wasn’t acquainted with him prior to coming here…” That was the reason why she came to visit the gallery - to learn of this artist.

 ”And it’s quite fine, sir… I-I understand what you mean…”

The blush soon then made a reappearance as he asked for her name, as well as comparing her to… To Picasso, no less…! She wasn’t that skilled to even be compared to him!

“A-Ah… My name is Vera Misham… It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Garry…”

Truth be told, under this observation, he couldn't help feeling a little nervous, himself. Goodness, to be standing in front of an actual artist was daunting, even if he didn't know what kind of artist the other was. That was probably his appreciation for art talking. Or his awkwardness. Either one was a perfectly viable thing, unfortunately.

Nonetheless, the artist seemed quite surprised he'd guessed at her job so easily, before explaining she had come to the gallery to look for inspiration, though she hadn't known of Guertena before coming here.

"He's a wonderful artist, but not that many folk do seem to know about his works, sadly. His works seem almost doomed to a life of obscurity most the time. I wish there was something I could do about it, but I certainly can't paint. Perhaps I should take it upon myself to learn so I can show people how engrossing his works of art are..."

Trailing off in thought, then, his concerned expression was wiped away at the other introducing herself. 

"It's lovely to meet you, madam Misham. I'm...wagering you 'walked into' a painting and ended up here, too? My condolences."

"Do you suppose...others who came to look at the exhibits also got dragged into this mess?"