Mary was an idea of her father's, made on a rather cold and lonely night. Some called her his masterpiece. Others didn't understand how she stood against his other work. And some, some said she was the heart of Guertena.
They were almost correct.
While running through the gallery, she had to admit, she truly was like him. They both had an interest in a woman in red, and both were just out of their reach. He'd loved Mary's big sister, the painting one. She'd been made in a fit of anger, but in the end he'd declared her one of his favorite personal pieces. Mary loved that girl in red, her ticket to a better life. She was young, but she was made by Guertena. That deep feeling in her was real.
Drawing had been a past time for her in this sad world. One day he'd come up to her and complimented her on it. He gave her art supplies and continued to do so. It hadn't hit her until one day that he was trying to make her just like him.
She wasn't going to fail like her father did. She would not hide from the world and failure like he did, his soul locked away in whatever he created. She would not chase after a painting, or settle for less than what was real. No, she had her eyes set on the girl in red, the one who would lead her to the truth. And unlike her father, she would get there.