Authors Note: Hello everyone! I'm sorry I haven't made a new chapter in quite a while, this one took some time (and i was lazy XAX;;) but with it being summer, I'll be updating this fanfic along with making some new ones quite often! I hope you enjoy!
Continuing their journey down the hall, Ib and Garry chatted a bit, the topic changing constantly. Questions like "So has the gallery changed any?" from "When's your birthday?" had been tossed about, both of them awkwardly stumbling to keep a conversation going, no matter how pointless. After only mere minutes, the duo found themselves turned down yet another hall, this one was peculiar, colored brightly in pastels and chalks that burned their way through the black under them. The way it was drawn, messily yet peculiarly morbid in their details made the two stop in their tracks. On the walls, was a scene, Ib and Garry's meeting with Mary, and the events that they'd had, continuing down to their final showdown.
"Garry… what on earth?" the young girl murmured aloud as she made her way down, hand trailing across the painted pictures, as if to ensure they were real. "T-This couldn't mean…" she turned to the older man, eyes wide, her peculiar sentences referring to Mary "….could it?" Garry's expression was a bit alarmed as well, but it quickly snapped back into focus. "I…. I hope not." His voice a bit shaky, but the two continue down the hall, inspecting the drawings, which have now changed.
The yellow haired girl sits all alone, in a room surrounded by dolls, pictures, and other objects, including her rose, which have all been burnt to a gross brownish-black color, yet still mainly in-tact for the most part. Even the tips of her hair and dress seem to be singed, just barely, and aside from that, she seems to have no signs of injury. Her chalky figure holds an eerie expression, the eyes streaming tears, but her mouth turned up in a peculiarly wide smile, reminding Ib of a shark. Next to and below the image, cursive has been sprawled, smeared a bit, but still legible, in a bright, sunshine yellow.
Hello Ib, welcome back! I'm so glad you've returned, and so soon! We've all made mistakes Ib, but that's okay, we have plenty of time to forgive. The last word was written much larger than the rest, apparently for accent, which seemed to add to the peculiar feel that the words had given Ib. "She….She's back…" Ib's tone became frantic, almost strangled, cracking at the end. "What…how did that happen…how? I thought….. I thought she was…." Her eyes wide, she looked to Garry, even more frantic. "What if she tries to hurt you again?" The words worried and questioning, as she found tears forming on the edges of her vision.
Seeing this, Garry quickly approached her, wrapping his arms around her in a simple hug, unsure of how to calm her down. "It's okay… Maybe it's just another trick, this world is full of them, and if she is here, we'll find a way to keep her away from hurting us." He said words hopeful and reassuring, with the hopes that she'd be able to calm down a bit. After a moment of standing like that, Ib managed to finally clear her thoughts, and the two continued to walk down the artistic hall. At the end of the corridor, the two found another door, and without issue, the two entered into a brand new room. This one was similar to the others, grey walls aligned in a labyrinth-like fashion befitting a gallery, but this one actually had paintings hung on the display areas.
Looking at the paintings, the duo was even more on edge than before. Frames hung from each wall, crooked, the paintings behind them darkish blobs, similar to photo negatives, as if the characters had jumped from the paintings, leaving a black nothingness in their place. Inspecting one, Garry wasn't able to tell what the image was originally, but the event was quite odd.
After a moment, Garry heard a peculiar noise, like swinging through the air. It was quite loud, like it was right next to him, and he found himself looking from side to side for anything odd. Looking to Ib, he saw her face was pale, eyes wide, focused on something above his head. Confused, he took a step out of the way, and a dark form plummeted to the floor where he'd been seconds before. Letting out a small shriek, the duo both looked to the crumpled form, confused, stunned, and worried. The figure was a doll, face obscured by purple/mauve hair. Without looking at the face, both of them knew who it was supposed to be, none other than Garry. Moving over to his 'dead' clone, red paint billowed from its head and back, which had been impaled multiple times, most likely by a knife of sorts. Like the original's ensemble, the doll wore a tattered blue coat, which was now covered in holes and paint.
"Who did this…..Mary?" Ib asked, voice a tiny bit shaky as she looked to Garry. "Probably. She really doesn't like me does she?" He commented, laughing nervously after. In reality, he was just as surprised and startled as she, especially by how angrily the doll had been destroyed. Still, the duo knew they had to continue, at the very least to escape the peculiar 'corpse'. "Let's go, shall we? Maybe to somewhere little less…eerie?" Garry asked, looking to Ib, with a small smile. "Yes please, especially if we can find a way out of here." The teen quickly replied, wanting nothing to do with any more weird happenings, though she doubted that would be the last.
After a bit of wandering the two of them managed to find a door, this one extremely colorful, a drawing of two girls drawn on it. One a brunette, clutching a red rose in one hand, the other a blonde, clutching a yellow rose, which was a bit faded, almost brown at the edges. The two were holding hands, appearing quite happy, though there wasn't a ton of detail due to it being a chalk drawing. A few words had been written under the image, and Ib quickly read them. Hello again Ib! It read, and no sooner than she'd finish did the duo hear giggling. Turning around, they saw a group of familiar blue-ish dolls. Some of them were scratched, broken, or ripped up, but they continued to move, red eyes glowing deviously. Along with them were multiple silhouettes, similar to the missing images on the paintings, though it was hard to tell. The door behind them swung open, and without another second, they were pushed into the room by painted and plush hands.
This room, Ib realized, was almost the exact same as the one in the halls, where a burnt Mary had been sitting. Unlike the drawing, little of it was brown or burnt, mostly colorful, filled wall to wall with eerie chalk drawings, dolls and many other dolls and items. In the center of the room stood a familiar blonde girl, her green eyes locking onto Ib, a giant cheerful grin on her face.