Disclaimer: I don't own Ib or any of the characters
If there was one thing Garry couldn't stand about living in a war-zone, it was the waiting. There was never a moment where you could fully let your guard down, so the minutes seemed to stretch into hours. You couldn't risk going for a walk since there might be enemy patrols skulking around some dark corner.
Sometimes it was enough to drive a person mad.
His thoughts kept drifting back to Mary. At the time sending her out to get Ib's rose back had seemed like the best idea, but after almost a full day without any sort of news he was actually starting to worry about her safety.
Calm down. He thought to himself. It takes time to get a job like this done. She's probably on her way back right now. The niggling doubt refused to leave.
Besides. He thought dryly. Even if she was caught she would probably find a way to get out of it. Like play a game with someone's rose.
A knock at his door drew him out of his thoughts.
"Come in." He called.
As it turns out he hadn't needed to bother offering. Before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, his door burst wide open and one of the dolls rushed inside.
"Garry!" It shouted. "Important stuff happening! Red says get down here now! Main hallway!"
Not waiting for him to formulate a response, it dashed back the way it came and disappeared. Staring at the empty doorway for a second, Garry rushed forward. Whatever it was, there was no way it was good.
His mind raced with any number of possible disasters that might have taken place.
Where they under attack?
Had Mary been caught?
Had Ib…
No..
Ib's rose!
His rush turned into a full on sprint as fear and desperation filled his limbs with burning energy, pushing him faster and faster towards his goal. Narrowly avoiding bowling over a mannequin, he skidded to a halt in front of the Lady in Red.
"What happened!?" He demanded. "Is it Ib?"
Shaking her head, Red pointed down the hall at a congregation of their forces. "See for yourself." She told him.
As Garry pushed his way forwards he was greeted by the last sight he could have possibly expected. Standing in a circular formation, a group of mannequins and dolls had surrounded another doll and were keeping him in place with an assortment of brandished weaponry. It took several moments before he recognized the captive.
Thomas.
Even more shocking than the reappearance of the treacherous toy, was the items he had laid out in front of him. An old book and a strange box had been stacked neatly at his feet, but they were vastly overshadowed by the other two items.
Placed on either side of Thomas were two roses. One red and one yellow.
Garry felt a dark rage begin to build in his chest as he looked upon the scene. "You…" He snarled. "What are you doing here?"
Thomas's head shot up at the sound of his voice. "Oh, Garry." He stammered nervously, as he shifted from foot to foot. "I-I just got to thinking that you've been here for a full nine years and I never once got you a birthday present. Uh… so… surprise?"
Before Garry could decide how best to go about stomping the doll into a hairy paste, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed in the halls behind him. A very out of breath Ib stopped next to him.
"What's going on?" She gasped between breaths. "I came as fast as I could bu-" Her sentence came to an abrupt end as she spied their new guest.
"You! Where did you come from!? Wait, that's Mary's rose! What did you do to her!?"
Thomas quickly backed away from the enraged girl, feeling much safer facing the armed mannequins than enduring her anger.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on a second!" He pleaded. "I didn't hurt her! Veil did, I stole her rose back for you see? I even got your rose too. I'm helping aren't I? That has to count for something doesn't it?"
"Helping?" Garry scoffed. "You're the one that caused this in the first place!"
"Garry, look." At the pleading tone, Garry turned away from the doll to see what Ib was referring to. Gently, she held the yellow rose in her hand and it didn't take long for him to see what the problem was.
The rose had wilted significantly, now holding only four of its original ten petals. Even as he watched, another petal withered up and fell to the ground.
"We need a vase! Now!" He shouted at the assorted gallery inhabitants. The Lady in Red quickly worked her way forward. "Give it to me." She said. "I know where all the vases are." Ib didn't waste time. She handed over the rose and Red was off, moving at a speed that defied her lack of a lower body.
With that taken care of, Garry turned back to Thomas. "This is your one chance to give me a reason not to tear you apart. Just what the hell happened out there?" He demanded with a glare.
Decidedly unhappy with the whole situation, Thomas began his explanation. "Well, as it so happens your little friend got herself caught. I don't know what she was doing, but she wasn't sneaky enough to take Veil by surprise. Speaking of which, did anyone ever tell you that you look just like him when you're angry?" As the silent glares deepened, Thomas squirmed uncomfortably.
"She was in pretty bad shape, so I'm guessing she did something crazy like attack Veil directly. Trust me when I say that is not a good idea. Anyway, I guess you could say I had a bit of a change of heart when I saw her get dragged away. So I broke into Veil's private office, which was guarded by at least a hundred of those freak soldiers, worked my magic on the traps, stole back your roses, and snuck past his entire army all to try and make up for my mistakes. See? I'm a good guy here."
Garry had far too much experience with the dolls to believe a single word out of Thomas's mouth. "You and I…" He said, crossing his arms. "Are going to have a very long talk about what really happened." Turning to the mannequins, he gave a signal. "Tie him up and bring him along. We're going to discuss this in the war room."
Turning away to the sounds of Thomas's protests, he began the walk back to his room. He would need to take a few minutes to clear his head before questioning the doll. He was going to find out everything Thomas was hiding no matter what it took.
He might even enjoy it.
Just a little.
Ib picked up her rose and watched as Thomas was dragged away. For a moment she made as to follow Garry and help with the questioning, however her desire for information lost out to her worry for Mary's safety. Turning around, she began to follow the path that the Lady in Red had taken.
She had only taken a couple of steps when her foot bumped into something. Looking down she spied the other two objects Thomas had brought with him in his attempt to win back their good graces. By the look of things it seemed they had been forgotten in the wake of the roses.
Sighing, she bent down and picked them up. You never know. She thought. They might come in handy.
Not waiting another second, she set out after the Lady in Red.
It didn't take long to find the painted woman. In her hurry to restore Mary's rose, she hadn't bothered to close the door to the room she was in. Ib quickly stepped inside to see if everything was all right.
As she spied the rose, she let out an audible sigh of relief. It was placed in a glass vase that must have contained water, and now was back to its full bloom of ten petals. Hearing her, Red turned around and gave her a motherly smile. "It's all right." She said. "The petals aren't falling anymore. Whatever was happening has stopped."
Her words were only slightly reassuring. After all, the fact that whatever it was had happened at all was a very big problem.
Seeing her conflict, Red decided that it might be best to give Ib some alone time. "I'm going to go see if Garry needs help 'questioning' Thomas." She said with a slight edge in her voice as the name left her mouth. "If anything happens just shout and I'll be right there."
Ib nodded mutely as she left.
After a little while of standing there silently, she walked over to the table with the vase and sat down on the floor next to it. There were several chairs in the room, but they were all too far away from the table and she couldn't be bothered to move them right now.
"You weren't supposed to get caught…" Ib whispered softly. Sitting there, she began to feel painful lances of guilt burn through her stomach. This was her fault. She had been the one who slept blissfully unaware of the thief stealing her rose. She had been the one who didn't stop Mary when the plan to get her rose back had been debated.
If something happened to Mary now…
Ib needed to do something to take her mind off the painful emotions that roiled inside her, but what could she do?
She couldn't charge off after Mary, no matter how much she wanted to.
She wanted no part in Thomas's interrogation, even if he was the cause of all her current problems.
The thought of going back to work on the spear made her want to bash her own head in with a rusty mallet.
Groaning, Ib realized that there was simply nothing she could do to help her sister at the moment.
It was then that she thought of the two items she had brought with her. There had to be something special about them didn't there? If Thomas was telling the truth, then they had belonged to Veil. At the very least they might be able to distract her long enough for their next move to be planned out.
Ib decided to examine the lock-box first since it might just hold something important.
Turning it over in her hands she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. It was made of plain metal, and when she shook it there was a light shuffling sound inside. The only strange thing about it was the lock on the front. There were a series of numbers organized with dashes in between them and a button to trigger the opening mechanism. This in and of itself wasn't strange, the odd part was the arrangement of the numbers. For some reason they had been built in an asymmetrical fashion.
00 – 0 – 00 – 00
Did the numbers stand for something? Was it a date? A name? Ib didn't have the slightest idea, but had the feeling that they were more than just random numbers. Unfortunately, without knowing the secret of their code she had no way to open the box.
Placing it to one side, she focused on the book instead. Its cover was worn through years of use, and it lacked any kind of title or descriptive markings. It was clear that Veil had read through the book many times in the past, which begged the question what did he read?
Despite the gravity of the situation Ib found herself giggling at the mental image of Veil locking the doors to his private study, and eagerly opening a copy of The Princess and the Pea.
Opening the cover she took a look at the first page.
It wasn't a children's story.
Ib's heart began to race as she realized what the book was. The old pages contained neat handwriting that seemed unnaturally precise.
Veil had used this book as a journal.
For an instant, Ib was consumed by the desire to slam the book shut and hurl it as far away as possible. She did not want to know what kind of things Veil wrote about in his free time.
Her fear was suppressed however, when she realized how important this could be. The book might contain secrets to Veils strategies. His plans. His strengths.
His weaknesses.
Even if it didn't, it would give them a glimpse into the way his mind worked. Know your enemy. Ib didn't remember where she had heard that quote, but it seemed especially relevant right now.
Slowly, she began to read.
.
This is to be the first in what will likely be several entries to my latest attempt to stave off the madness of this place. I refuse to become a jabbering dolt like that incessant child.
With each passing day I can feel my mind fray at the edges. Up until this point I protected myself by replicating the works of Geurtena on my own canvas. This worked fairly well up until I simply ran out of things to paint.
Now I am forced to take actions as demeaning as these. Writing my thoughts down simply to be sure they are mine.
Still, it could be far worse. Mary is becoming more and more dysfunctional as time goes on. By now, all she ever talks about is the outside world. It is entertaining in a way, watching someone descend into madness right before your very eyes.
We will just have to see if this exercise can shield me from such a fate.
.
Ib paused for a moment to consider what she had just read. Veil had existed in the gallery long before either she or Garry had arrived. That meant he wasn't some new horror that had sprung into being after their last trial. Why hadn't he shown himself earlier then? Taking a breath, she turned to the next page.
.
Perhaps her constant whining is taking its toll on me, or perhaps she is not quite as mad as I first thought. Either way, I find myself wondering about the outside world with increasing frequency.
What does an ocean look like?
What does wind feel like?
What makes it so appealing?
These questions continue to plague me, but I am unable to answer them now or ever. I have become familiar with the process of leaving the gallery thanks to my irritating neighbor. It involves taking the place of a human on the outside, which sadly requires a human form.
Something I don't have.
I have put much thought into solving this problem, after all a body of paint can be modified by whoever has the skill to do so. Sadly, while I am capable of changing myself I have no physical form to model my new body after.
I will NOT become a copy of Mary.
I will give further thought to this matter later. I am finished for now.
.
He needed a body… That explained why he looked so much like Garry, but it didn't tell her why he was so keen on killing him. Ib continued reading.
.
I must admit writing is becoming a rather enjoyable aspect of my time here. Particularly when I have something as momentous as this to write about.
I don't know how or why, but people from the outside have come to the Fabricated World. From what I have seen thus far, they are a young girl and a twenty something year old man.
As I write this they are working their way through the tricks and traps of this world, directly into Mary's waiting arms. The blind fools have no idea what they are in for.
I have taken this opportunity to further my own interests. The male is not the finest of subjects, but his form is far better than that of a nine year old girl or a miniature psychopath. He will be my new model.
He will be my new face.
.
Ib's heart rate increased as she read. He had been watching them the entire time they were in the gallery. Not letting herself dwell on the creepiness of the situation, she turned the page.
.
I have done it.
I have succeeded in modeling myself after the man. I believe his name was 'Garry', not that it matters now. Mary killed him.
It was a fairly touching image seeing that little girl weeping over his corpse, before fleeing this world entirely. It's a pity, had something delayed her just a bit longer I could have lured her away to secure my own escape.
It doesn't matter all that much. I have heard rumors of Geurtena's final gift, and I'm fairly sure that it is a way out of this place. If a maddened child can escape, then so can I.
Maybe I will pay Mary a visit on the outside…
.
A way out. Ib reread that line several times to make sure she had not imagined it. Could it be possible that he had discovered a way to escape? He couldn't have or he wouldn't still be here would he? She turned the page.
.
I find myself somewhat sad to say that this will be my final entry, at least in this place. I have located the key to my freedom and now I intend to use it.
It also seems that Garry was not as dead as I had assumed. Good for him then, may he enjoy his new prison of filth and squalor.
Goodbye my paper companion.
.
A thousand questions burned in Ib's mind, but they were silenced when she turned the next page. All the previous entries had been careful and meticulous. This one looked as though Veil had flown into a rage while writing. The letters were harshly formed, and the paper had been torn in several places.
.
WHY WON'T IT WORK!
I have gone to the exit! I have done everything needed! Yet it still won't let me leave!
Is this some trick? Some final mockery of Geurtena's?
ARE YOU MOCKING ME YOU FILTHY CORPSE?
I will find you Geurtena! I will find you and tear your rotted bones into splinters! I will take such vengeance that the devil himself will weep at the sight of your broken remains!
I WILL NOT BE DENIED!
.
Ib had to wait for several minutes before she could work up the nerve to turn to the next page. Disturbingly enough, it was back to the neat and orderly handwriting.
.
I have erred in my judgment.
I see now that taking the man's form was a mistake. In doing so I have created a link between the two of us that keeps me from leaving. So long as Garry lives, I am still trapped.
I have no idea how durable my current form is so I am not willing to risk a direct confrontation. Instead I have begun building an army. They are neither smart, nor skilled but they have no need to by. They obey and that is enough.
With them I should be able to kill Garry and secure my freedom.
At least, that is the plan.
.
So that was it. Garry was keeping him trapped simply by existing. Ib couldn't help but smile a bit at that. Even unintentionally, Garry was still keeping them safe from the gallery. Stretching her shoulders, she turned another page.
.
This is proving far more difficult than I anticipated.
My show of force should have crushed any thoughts of resistance from the other gallery inhabitants, but instead it has caused them to rally together with that blasted Garry as their incompetent leader.
Even so, I have learned several important things.
First is my own lack of mortality. I have taken the field several times, and my new body has yet to disappoint me. Their weaponry can't inflict even the slightest scratch.
Second is something about the link he and I share. It is doing far more than simply keeping me here it seems. I didn't notice it at first, but the link seems keen on drawing us together. More than once I have found myself walking towards their fortifications without thinking about where I was going.
While I doubt he will be foolish enough to let the pull get the better of him, it has raised several questions in my mind.
Perhaps I can use this link to draw someone on the outside into the gallery.
And I think I know just the person to tip the balance of power in my favor.
.
Draw someone on the outside… It had been him. She had suspected as much for a while now, but the confirmation left her cold. Turning to the next page, Ib was greeted by the shortest and most disturbing entry yet.
.
She is here.
As I write, my new assassin stalks the halls outside my home looking for her sister's rose.
I simply need to show her who the master is.
It's time to finish this.
.
Ib shakily got to her feet. The rest of the book was blank, but what she had read so far had instilled a terrible sense of dread in her system.
She needed to find Garry.