Ib stood there for a moment, paralyzed. She'd seen something similar to this before...but how? It made no sense, and as she felt something brush past her feet, and she looked over to see the roses that had erupted moments before from the Forgotten Portrait were growing even faster than before. As they slowly wrapped around her feet, she quickly struggled, resisting their leafy grasp. Oblivious to the fact that her shoes were still amongst the thorn-filled vines, she ran, towards the staircase, hoping to get to the ground level before she was entangled in a mass of blue roses and thorns.
As she was about to run down the staircase, the lights flickered once again, and she saw yet another note, written in crimson paint on the stairs handrail 'Ib, don't run away, just come and play~.' Ib was confused, in more ways than one, but she ignored the paint, grabbed the handrail, and ran down the seemingly endless stairs, leaving a trail of paint down the long spiral handrail.
Out of breath and tired, Ib finally reached the second floor, and began to walk around the displays, looking for an exit of any kind. It seemed as if the floor stretched out forever, but the young girl knew it was merely her nerves that made it seem like that. In the hopes of retrieving her handkerchief, Ib slid her hand into the pocket of her skirt, feeling around for it's soft texture and embroidered patterns. Met by only air and the bottom of the pocket's seam, Ib began to worry. The handkerchief was of great importance to her and her parents, and she'd hate to think what they'd say if she lost it. "I must've left it on the third level." She muttered reluctantly, not wanting to go back up to the odd things that the uppermost level contained.
Sighing, she quickly ran up the long curling case of stairs, stepping over vines and thorns. Within a few minutes, she'd made her way back to the third level, and she quickly began her search for the handkerchief. Searching high and low, she made her way through the level with no luck in her search for the cloth. Taking a moment, she glanced at the Forgotten Portrait, only to see something that stopped the young girl in her tracks. In the painting, there were now two things that didn't belong. One, a thin young red rose amongst the blue ones, and two, her handkerchief, lying limply in the sleeping mans lap.
Without thought, she walked towards the painting, and slowly went to touch it. Feeling hands on her back, she went to turn around, but was pushed into the painting before she could react.