Will of the Abyss
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A/N: HEYYYYY I'm so sorry I've been gone for god knows how long. I've actually moved twice within that time and now I'm in the land of TEA AND BISCUITS and wow the weather sucks. So, I'm trying to get back into writing and I've recently become re-obsessed with Ib so I thought 'Why not' and I got this idea. Idk if I've seen any around before but I wanted to see something like it so I'M GONNA WRITE IT MYSELF... (please help me with school someone)
my parents have forced me to enroll in a private British boarding school and I'm out of the house because of it for 11 hours. 11 hours. halp
Anywho, I don't own Ib or anything like it.
(and yes I got the title and idea sorta from Pandora Hearts but not nearly enough whatsoever to be a crossover)
"Garry?" The little girl got to her knees, attempting to talk to the lavender haired man in front of her. "Garry wake up." She gently shook his arm. He showed no signs of stirring. "Garry, Mary's gone... We can go home now." She shook his shoulders, harder than her previous attempt. "Garry, why are you sleeping? Garry please wake up. Garry?" Fear began to show in her eyes. The man in front of her wouldn't wake up – couldn't wake up.
Leaning back to sit on the floor, she looked blankly at the stem she held in her hand, not a petal left. "I was... too late...?" She whispered softly to herself. Her grip around the stem tightened and she cried, screamed, yelled for help. The sound was heart wrenching.
Even the dolls, the Individuals, the different colored dressed women held their breath. There had been many others before them, despairing their deaths, and the deaths of their partners. But they had never made such a gargled noise echo through the whole of the gallery.
After her crying, the girl sniffed and pulled out her own delicate red rose. Gently, she stroked one of the petals. It felt so real but in reality, it was the least logical thing she found in the gallery. Wish a shaky breath she gently pulled a petal off.
'Loves me.'
An unwelcome sting flowed through her body, but the girl continued playing.
'Loves me not.'
Another petal drifted to the ground, the girl getting weaker.
'Loves me.'
'Loves me not.'
She looked at the last remaining petal. Her body ached, burned, but if Garry had to deal with it, then so could she. Hoisting her body to the wall beside him, curling into his no longer warm body.
She couldn't lie to herself, no matter how hard she tried. She was scared. She was scared to pull the last petal, although she knew the next words of her game.
'He... loves me.'
She swiftly plucked the last petal, almost crushing it in her hand as she felt an overwhelming pain wash over her body. Although it was just a a few seconds, it felt like hours to her. With a thud, her hand fell limp to the floor, her eyes closed, and she too 'slept' alongside him.
"Hey you two, it's time to wake up. You've been sleeping for quite a while now."
"Mmm." Garry grumbled, "But I don't have classes today, I can sleep can't I?" He heard a chuckle. 'That sounds to manly to be ma.' He thought, cracking one eye open.
At first, he thought he was looking into a mirror. But he realized his hair was a lighter shade of lavender and his signature darker highlights were not there. Also, his 'reflection' looked too awake to be what he thought it was. Looking around he realized he was now in a light violet colored room. From his position on the floor, he could see the back of a canvas, a stool with a small table holding brushes, and a small bookshelf packed with multicolored, weathered books.
"Awake now?" The man asked him, holding out a hand to help him up. Garry eyed him suspiciously but he took the outstretched hand. As he got up he felt a weight on his legs holding him down. It was Ib, sleeping.
He shook her shoulder, gently of course. "Ib, wake up. There's someone here." Silently, Ib opened her eyes and looked up at Garry. Tears swelled in her eyes and she ran and gave him a giant hug. "Woah! What's wrong Ib? Did you have a nightmare again?" He asked, giving a reassuring smile as he rubbed her back, holding her protectively.
"I-I don't know. I hope it was." Ib tightened her hold on the man, the tears threatening to spill over. "Why don't you tell me about it? Would that help?" Out of the corner of his eye, Garry saw the man that looked like him walked away to paint something on the canvas. Unfortunately, the painter was the only one who could see what he was painting.
"I... You..." Ib started, grabbing Garry's full attention. "Yes? What is it Ib?" Her small hands gripped his tattered blue jacket, "Mary... was playing 'Loves Me, Loves Me Not' with your rose... And you were sleeping..." Now, the tears fell freely. "Oh Ib... It's alright now, I'm right here." He pulled her head into his chest.
"She's right you know." The painting man spoke up, startling Ib and Garry. "W-What do you mean?" Garry asked, wary of his calm demeanor. Ib on the other hand, was shocked at how much the man looked like Garry. "Mary did play that game with your rose." A shock ran down Garry's back. "But that means-"
"Yes, it's as you think. You belong to the gallery now."
"What about Ib?" Garry asked tenaciously, "Why is she still here?" The man twitched ever so slightly. "She played the game as well. Both of you are part of this gallery. But since Ib destroyed Mary's painting, I've been working on a painting of you two you see." He gestured for the two of them to look at his work. Garry cautiously got up, carrying Ib. It took every ounce of him to not drop her when he saw the painting.
It was both of them in the hall Garry had collapsed in. He laid, slumped against the wall, hands limp on the floor and his face upturned with a peaceful look. To his right side, there was Ib, curled up against the older man, her face the very picture of innocence in Garry's mind. In her open hand lay two rose stems, their red and blue petals littering the ground around them. The lemon candy and Garry's lighter had fallen out of Ib's pockets and laid on the ground amongst the rose petals. The title somehow had matched the scene perfectly.
At Peace
"W... What kind of joke is this?!" Garry snapped at the man, momentarily forgetting he was holding Ib. Unfortunately for her, his rather harsh tone was just about yelled right in her ear. She clammed her hands over her ears and jumped down from Garry to sit in a corner. "Now look what you've done to the girl." The painter scolded him. Like a young boy getting caught stealing candy from the cabinet, Garry shrunk down, intimidated by the man who could have been his reflection.
The painter walked over to Ib and offered her a hand. "Come my dear, there's nothing to be afraid of." Now Ib was a unusually mature child, even keeping calm during most of the chaos that was the gallery. Her parents always told her about 'stranger danger' and to keep to herself out in public. But there was something about this man, something that drew her to trust him. The only other time something like that happened was when she met-
Her eyes landed on Garry, who stood away from the man, but could see his tall figure over his shoulder.
"Why do you look like Garry?" She asked the man timidly, slowly rising from her corner. The man chuckled. "I guess... we're related." He guessed.
"My name is Weiss Guertena."
Silence fell over the room. "Y-Y-You're the Guertena? The one who created this hellish gallery?!" Garry questioned him, rather enraged at the man. "Oh be quiet will you. Some of us aren't used to such loud noises." Guertena said, getting, what looked like, a tea set from a cabinet on the other side of the room.
"Can you explain what happened to us?" Ib asked him, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Even so, Guertena still heard it. "Ah, of course child. Why don't I start after you finished your... game?" Ib swallowed rather nervously but nodded all the same. Guertena led them to the adjacent room with a few couches to sit on, and began his account of what happened.
"Father! Father! Two more have played the game! They belong to us now." Guertena turned from his book, to direct his attention to the Lady in Red who had waltzed in the open door. "I see you got tired of crawling, Lady." He said blankly to the woman with scarlet eyes and cloaked in a long dress of the same color. She crossed her arms and puffed out her cheeks. "I told you to give us names or accessories or something to tell us apart. I gave myself the name Scarlet but you wouldn't be able to tell." She huffed, clearly annoyed at the man. Sighing, Guertena closed the book and set it down on the table near him. "So what was it you were saying, Scarlet?"
The woman, Scarlet, was clearly satisfied being called by her 'name' and her happy mood returned. "That's right! There's two new additions to the gallery now, their roses were stripped. Oh, and they burned Mary's painting as well." She twirled around at the thought of two new toys to play with. It was dreadfully boring being stuck in one place all the time. Guertena on the other hand, was shocked. He was certain at least one of them could leave, after Mary had... died... but for both of them to have failed when the exit was so close?
"Father, didn't you hear the girl scream?" Scarlet asked him, interrupting his thoughts. "Scream?" He asked, baffled. The girl had screamed? "Why yes, I would have thought you heard it as well, it echoed throughout the gallery after all. I have to say... I pity the girl." Guertena was shocked once more. The Ladies never pitied anyone, that's why they thoroughly enjoyed the game of 'Loves me, Loves Me Not' with all the visitors' roses. But for them to pity someone was... worrying.
"I'm gonna get back into my frame then. Have a good day father!" Scarlet skipped out, leaving the confused man to himself. "I'd better welcome them." He thought, grabbing a canvas and a few brushes to paint a new painting for them.
"Well, after that I found you two just like this," he gestured to his most recent painting, "and asked one of the Individuals to carry you to the door. I wanted to make sure you felt comfortable when you woke up, and I guess that seeing most of the art pieces here wouldn't help that." He nervously scratched the back of his head. Ib and Garry stared at him. How could such a nice person be the 'Father' of the cruel gallery?
"They weren't always like this you know..." Ib barely heard his whisper. His eyes were downcast, a sad shine to them. "It used to great in this gallery, the paintings were so kind and polite and would welcome any visitors that happened to stumble here. But... I guess it broke them." Garry had a bad feeling at how the gallery itself 'broke'. "Seeing friends come and go, a privilege they didn't have as easily. You must know, as many come in, that many can leave. They would have to sacrifice someone if they must. With that, vengeance rippled throughout the gallery, even I couldn't stop it.
"Luckily, they don't attack me, being their creator and all. I help the poor visitors who do get trapped, which is usually those who couldn't solve the puzzles or lose hope and give up..." Ib and Garry felt thankful to the man who attempted to help the visitors.
"Did the roses always exist?" Ib asked curiously. "The roses? Oh, that's right. The 'game' with the roses was brought up after the gallery, umm, broke. The displays wanted a way to kill the visitors instead of them wander and leave. I guess it's a sort of torture as well, knowing how close you are to death." His eyes wandered to the floor.
Without warning, Ib hugged the painter, surprising both him and Garry. "I-Ib?" Garry asked, worried. "From his short time with the young girl, he knew she didn't trust strangers very easily. And this man was the one who painted Mary!
"Are you lonely?" Ib asked, her question muffled by the fact her face was buried in the painter's stomach. Even still, her question rippled through the room, reaching the ears of the painter.
Guertena was surprised at the question. Was he lonely? Did he feel alone? His paintings were all around him, talked to him. The Ladies in Red continued to win him over, but he had no desire for those he creaated.
"Are you? I would be. Can we be your friends?" The normally timid girl asked hm, hugging him tighter. Garry tried prying her off, but to no avail. "H-Hey... Ib..." He started, trying to talk to her. The girl took a step back from him, and looked up.
In her small, piercing eyes was a ray of determination. "Garry used to be lonely, are you lonely too? Garry and I can stay here with you! We can all be friends!" She perked up at the thought. Guertena couldn't help but let out a small laugh.
"Friend... huh?" It sounded so nostalgic. When was the last time her ever had real interaction? It had been – oh god – decades. It had to be his punishment for creating the gallery in the first place. He had broken a barrier that was put in place for a reason.
"Either way," Garry started, "you're gonna be stuck with us for a loooong while." He dragged out the 'o' sound, emphasizing it with his hands. Ib skipped over to the man she traveled with through the gallery and held his hand, smiling at Guertena. The latter man chuckled.
"I guess we can be friends here then." He wouldn't admit it then, but in his chest he felt a warmth flood throughout him. It was something he hadn't felt in a long time. The painter shook the pair of hands outstretched to him.
"Welcome to the world of Guertena, Ib, Garry."
A/N: So I know there's a fanfiction out there using Garry and Guertena as like descendants or using reincarnation idea (I'm sorry I haven't read it in a long time T^T) but I have to say right now that I'm not using your story or anything like that, I was listening to Mary's theme 'Puppet' and someone had put lyrics to it and described in Mary's POV as Garry looking similar to Guertena and I love it and so I'm using it. I apologize if I offend anyone m(_ _)m .
Please Review!~