A/N: The original plot, characters, and other content of Ib do not belong to me.
They were everywhere. Mary laughed loudly, but she did not feel joyful. To her credit, she didn't quite feel scared either. Eventually the laughter died down, although it left a damaged smile on her face and unnecessary tilt to her head. There were so many portraits of the Lady's, in red and blue and yellow and even green.
She turned her back to them, not daring to go near them yet, although she knew it was only a matter of time before she would have to. There are so many here to play with me, she grieved. I can't possibly play with them all! Not that they would care about such things. With so many, the room would be full of them crawling about, dragging their frames by their hands.
Mary went back in the direction of the colorful statues, and farther up the room to see what else there might be. Two doors stood side by side to each other. The first required a code she would have to find. The second door was worse. There it was, just like she had known. It asked for how many paintings of women were in the room. Mary offered a few guesses, but of course they were wrong. This would be the prompt for her to approach the wretched Lady's.
She saw there were more statues, as if the Lady paintings needed some kind of guard. Mary steeled her nerves, and kept the despair away from her face. There would be no place for the emotion to weigh her down when she would need to flee. Dashing across a row of them, Mary found a door locked on the farthest wall of the room.
She was being pursued by one of the paintings that had sprung off the wall. It was curious that not all of them seemed willing to give chase. Mary barely remembered to start counting them before running away from the feral thing. Upon rounding a corner she realized she had passed a painting that was not womanly, but could not go back to examine it just yet.
At the right moment, she returned to the odd painting out. It was called 'The Hanged Man', and did not lie. She found it quite morbid, and placed a hand gently on her mouth being struck with such a thought. She didn't give herself much time to stare, but the numbers did catch her eye.
Five, six, two, and nine had been on the Hanged Man's shirt. Mary hoped it would suffice as one of the codes she needed. One of the Ladies tried to give her trouble, but Mary tore away from her grasp, and delivered a firm kick to its face. The door on the left was the one she wanted to try.
Learning the code would not allow her entrance at first stumped her. She was certain those were the right numbers, there wasn't anything else like that in this room. Eventually the fact the Hanged Man hung upside down struck her, and using the ink and paper she was able to flip the numbers around.
She entered six, two, nine, five instead, and was rewarded with a click of the lock turning. This room was relatively small, and contained only a stool, a table holding a vase and a canvass with the vase's likeness. Once again Mary was stumped, but the vase atop the table seemed to be the key.
She still wasn't certain what did it in the end, but after moving the table around quite a lot, there was some kind of sound. Frustration turned to relief as Mary exited, but turned again to surprise. Seeing the manikin head so close made her jump.
"Oh, you followed me?" she saw, but at least it wasn't attacking her. "How sweet."
She attempted to enter the amount of women in paintings on remaining door, not wanting to stay in the room filled with them for long. The number she entered was wrong, sending Mary into a short temper where she kicked the door. It faded, and she resumed looking around the room for paintings.
On the top of the side where she had entered hung the remaining paintings, reminding her it would be good to look everywhere in the room, even if it took time. This time her number was correct, and Mary entered the near empty room. It was scarcely decorated, like its fellow.
There was another vase on the table, a small book filled shelf in the corner, and some kind of note tacked to the wall. Could it be from Guertena? she hoped. Her heart was racing. Mary rushed to see what it said, but all it did was instruct her not to touch the exhibits. She was filled with rage again. I will do as I please! She shouted, albeit contained within her mind.
She beat her hand on the note to further satisfy herself, before turning to the bookshelf. Mary found one of the books was all but blank and wondered what had happened to it. Perhaps it was meant to be a journal. At least the pages looked unharmed. The papers Mary had collected along her way had gotten damaged a few times when she'd been attacked.
At least she kept finding more. She had plenty if she ever did feel like writing more notes. It wasn't exactly easy to find the time while all of this was happening, but it might be of some help, should anyone else need to get through this place. At first Mary had thought she would be coming back, but after this kind of experience, she only wanted to be home again, and for this to become a bad nightmare.
She hadn't noticed anything else in the room that would allow her to continue, so Mary returned to the room full of Ladies. She went back to side of the room where she had entered, and found one more door amongst the various walls.
The remaining doors in the center and right of the room were her best hopes. The center and easiest door to reach was locked. Mary had nearly become more annoyed with the Ladies she had to evade again than afraid of them. The door on the right of the room fortunately was unlocked.
Inside it was empty, save for a mirror. From outside Mary heard some commotion as she moved closer to take a look. The sight she was greeted with was a bit of enlightenment. She told herself she looked like such a mess. Her hair needed a combing, and her dress was out of sorts. It took but a moment of care for her to straighten up.
Somewhere in that moment the manikin head had moved again, and stood in the way of the only door. Mary was filled with fright, which faded while the smile donned on her face. She wanted to be mad. This thing had entirely freaked her out. It would be easy to shove and kick it out of the way.
Oh, she thought, and told herself not to. That kind of violence was what had made her so untidy. She turned her back on it to look in the mirror again and reaffirm her resolve. Apparently it decided to join her. Its pale face hovered beside hers. The pupils of Mary's eyes must have shrunk as her mind turned to strange places it had never ventured before.
"You wanted to keep me company?" she gathered. "That was awfully sweet of you."
She pulled her thoughts out of that place. This game was getting to her, but she had come too far to loose now. Pushing past the manikin Mary exited the room, and was greeted by the Lady paintings once more.
"Hello," she called, though they paid her no mind until she entered their range. It was after she had made it to the center of the room that Mary noticed the key that had appeared. Where these things kept popping up from she had no idea! It would only be a little challenge to double back and retrieve it. She was getting better at playing after all. The Lady in Red that flew off the wall after she had the key in her grasp did not deter her.
It had been unexpected, but Mary swung her fist at it, and kicked the painting until she had a space to go past. The way she pulled at Mary's legs was unpleasant, but it was simply unavoidable. There was no way for her to leave this gallery without a scratch. She would fix her things again once she was safely away.
As a matter of fact that was harder than she had thought. Even more of the Lady paintings had sprung off their wall to drag against the floor in their efforts to reach Mary. It was becoming chaos, but for now she needed only to reach the next door. She hurried along, nearly getting cornered a couple times, but it wasn't a long distance to the center of the room.
The key fit in to the door at the center, allowing safety if only for the moment. She knew this was the room with the window, and the paintings were certain to try something if she stayed for too long. That meant she must quickly find the next clue.
In the center of the room was a couch nearly all white save for the red on the vine like pattern on the back cushions. A couple stools were around, as well as a canvas, and bookshelves along the wall. There hung a painting that made Mary stop and stare, even though she knew the danger lingering would bring.
It was something precious to her from the outside world. Just what would her parents say if they saw how she was behaving. It made her feel quite sheepish and ashamed, but certainly they would understand. She was all alone in this place, and there were many vicious creatures trying to bring her harm. Despite this, it was nice to see her family again after all this fear and violence.
She tore her eyes away from the portrait, and to the canvas. There was nothing special about it, but Mary wanted to say something, and began to write. 'If you're tired, why not rest?' It was such a comforting place, especially when she could feel like her family was watching over her, but as if she could do that. 'You'll never be hurt again…'
She was supposed to be in a rush, but there was nothing in here to do. Mary had looked all around, but the place was empty of any clues. It wasn't her favorite idea, but she needed to try retracing her steps. Maybe she had missed something. The doorknob stubbornly stuck when she tried to turn it, locking her inside.
How can that be? She hardly had the moment to wonder, when something tried to get in. Mary backed away from the door as the noise grew louder, banging and rattling the locked door. Oh no, Mary thought. Without that, where was she going to run. There was another window in the room, but a bookcase blocked it.
It was probably to her fortune. She wouldn't be able to break through it, but one of those paintings certainly could. The sound gave no sign of letting up, strongly motivating Mary to look for some place to escape. The room was nothing but a dead end, so her next hope would be to hide. Only a stool could provide that protection, and it would hardly suffice!
Mary squealed when much to her surprise, one of the paintings entered through the wall. It was slowly going, but more were sure to be followed by more. Her brain seemed to be racing, desperate for survival. Come this way, she hoped, luring it away from the hole in the wall. As soon as it was far enough away, she made a mad dash around the sofa and to her 'freedom'.
She shrieked when she reentered the big room. More manikin heads had followed her to the room, and now not only Lady paintings, but also those knights were moving about in pursuit. She ran in the opposite direction. At least she had to keep them away until she knew where she was going.
The door on the right was the only one that hadn't been opened yet. As soon as she realized this, Mary charged for her goal. Much to her relief she saw the door was ajar and ready to let her through. Finally safe from the chaos of that room, Mary was able to catch her breath.
The rather large hallway was plain and gray, with paintings of those manikin heads on the wall again. The farther she went, the more the head seemed to cry a line of red tears. It smiled the more it cried, until the last painting where it became quite somber. Mary knew it was creepy, but she couldn't feel it in her heart anymore.
At the end of the hall there was a door, and stairs descending down. She entered the door first, containing a small room with a painting in the back. It was untitled. In the center of the room there were lots of bookshelves on each side of a vase atop a table. Mary went to the back where there was more paper and ink in the corner. Feeling like she needed more fun, she titled a paper 'Rules of the Art Gallery'.
"No loud conversation,
No photography,
No food or drink," she wrote.
"No touching the displays,
No fountain pens,
No leaving ever."
She finished with all that had happened in mind. She laughed to herself, smiling despite it all. Perhaps she needed to take a moment. On the shelf she found another blank book for her. If I draw something, will you come to life too? she wondered. Would you help me? Mary began to draw pictures, they weren't great, but they were hers. She spent a long time in that room, long enough to realize it had been a long time since she made the flawed decision of going into the lake.
Back then it had been almost time for diner, hadn't it? By now it must have been nearly past midnight. Mary needed to sleep. She kept telling herself that was impossible in this place, but would it be possible for her here? She was exhausted, physically, emotionally, and mentally. Certainly it had taken its toll on her. I won't do it, she decided. She wasn't resting until this game was over, and she was out.
Down the stairs she went, greeted by a purple re-coloring at the bottom of the steps. It was honestly a nice change after so much gray. The room was still hall like, although there was a door around the first corner. She heard some kind of noise, and tried it, but it was stuck. There might have been something blocking it, but looking through the peephole revealed nothing. Although she had expected something monstrous to jump into her sights, it was too dark. Continuing down the hall, there seemed to be a light on the wall, but Mary passed it uninterestedly for now.
An area was roped off, and contained many colored knight statues and paintings and sculptures. Mary did not chance entering it, as it looked to be a dead end anyway. She was certain things would start to move if she drew too close. She was almost passed when the shelf caught her eye.
It might contain a clue she would need to press on. Mary reluctantly went back, and entered the suspicious area. No sooner than she had did some kind of pole pop up and block her way. Mary whirled around startled, but saw only one statue was moving thus far. I can do this, she told herself, and began to move through the maze.
There were three paintings with switches, which Mary thought were her salvation. The first one she pushed only made another statue begin to move, to her horror. She did not dare press another, and made for the bookshelf instead. The book she found was hardly worth the trip. Could this be? she marveled at what it implied.
'It's said that spirits dwell in objects into which people put their feelings. I've always thought that, if that's true, then the same must be true of artwork. So today, I shall immerse myself in work, so as to impart my own spirit into my creations.'
Could the diary belong to Guertena? If that explained why these artworks were alive and moving, what kind of feelings had her friend put into them? Not to mention, just what kind of sprit did Guertena have, to do this sort of thing? Mary hastily put the book on the shelf, when the need to escape the statue arose once more.
One of those switches had to be her way out. The green one was the only color that didn't match a statue, but when Mary pushed it the remaining statue came to life. It must have been the blue one then! Only now with all three statues moving, and so little place to run Mary was sure to die. They cornered her at least twice before she was able to get to the painting, but in a mad rush of her will to live, Mary was able to tear herself away and push past them.
Finally it opened a slot for her to leave, but she still needed to reach it. Along the way she was cornered at least once more, the things tearing at her clothes and hair, as well as clutching and scratching her limbs. Useless! she realized outside. That had all been useless. She hardly cared if the mystery of the gallery was being solved; she only wanted to be out. Once she was, she would never come to see Guertena again!
She would have sworn to tell people about her 'friend', so Guertena and his creations could be destroyed, only she knew it wouldn't help, and Mary would be thought insane. She tried to brush herself off. At least her dress hadn't taken as much damage as she thought. It was mostly her that was shaken up. She stood up yet again, and walked around another corner.
A 'milk puzzle' hung on the wall, but Mary hardly spared it any concern. She needed to make note of things, so she wouldn't get stuck, but that didn't mean she needed to dwell over them. Just like that maze, she told herself. It's all part of the game! Guertena just wanted to share that with me, she made herself believe. The next picture seemed to move, it was called 'Fleeting Thoughts on a Moonlit Night,' but just like the last Mary hardly spared it any time.
The hall kept going. Mary stopped at another mirror hanging on the wall, before a door. She looked at herself again, worried about the way she must have looked. It was distressed, and not just in wear. She smiled, grasping her hands together, and trying to bring the light back into her eyes. I will get out of here.
The first room was teeny, with one of those dreadful statues blocking the way, and a long switch hanging from the ceiling. Mary pulled it, and then promptly left. She had to go back to make sure, but the light near the stairs had turned on. It looked nice, but didn't do much else.
Another door had a password of some sort. She wondered what to enter, but saw that it was in fact open. It wasn't too hard to locate the word that had opened it, which Mary made note of for future reference. Inside there was a large painting in the center of the wall, and bookshelves on either side. Mary picked up a book, but hardly read a sentence or two before blushing brightly and shoving it back where she found it.
She did not try to read any more of the books after that experience, and moved on to the painting. 'Separation' the red and black painting was title. Mary was already alone, until the lights went off. She was terrified, and saw no way of returning the light. It wasn't that she could feel someone hurting her, or hear anything coming closer, but she strongly felt another presence in the room.
Mary was near tears once more. She hadn't felt this fear for a while now, having actually become used to the terrifying gallery. Regardless, she would not spend another second in this room. Outside the lights were still on. She cautiously peeked back to the other room, and saw it was no longer in darkness, and nothing was there.
She wondered what had set the lights off, although it wasn't the first place they had acted faulty. It might have been the light switch, which was the only thing she had messed with so far. To see if her guess was correct, she entered the other small room again. The switch was fine, but she noticed the statue was missing. Mary shivered.
The now reachable door led back to the beginning of the hall near the stairs. It was convenient she supposed, although not nearly worth all this trouble. She wanted to know where the statue had gone, but also did not want to find it again. Still, it was worth a quick look around. Only, instead of a knight, she found red footsteps leading to a door she had evidently 'missed' the first few times.
They were about the size of a man's, and although Mary almost hoped they belonged to her 'friend', she highly doubted it. It was scary, but it was worth investigating. Mary approached this new door, and entered against her hearts clear protesting.