literature

A Painting Demise

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    It had started like any other day would, in the sense that the normality of the routine blinded one to change. But then again, almost everything started as a normal day; even things as disastrous as the World Wars began with seemingly normal days. In fact, if those who would be effected had noticed something was off, one might have worried over it to the point of paranoia- never a very good thing. One of the soon to be victims, a young girl only the age of nine, paroled the gallery halls curiously and stoically. Just like any other day for little Ib Kouri.
    She passed many interesting pieces of art, such as The Lady in Red and The Reserved Seat, but the one that she was the most attracted to was one with a title she could not read. The only word that made sense to her in the title was World, but that didn't help much. And then the lights flickered ominously, sending a chill down her spine as the one semi-loud gallery became completely still and deafeningly silent. And she spent a little while run around, merely trying to find the now missing gallery visitors- her parents among them. But she found herself drawn back to the painting from before, and with a defeated sigh trudged back up onto the second floor to examine it further.
    And when she got there she was surprised to see some of the blue paint dripping out of the image and onto the wall. As she moved over to it hastily scrawled letters could be seen, depicting the message she felt like she'd seen a million times before but couldn't really place. Without hesitation she ran back downstairs, following her route as she seemed to know pretty well. Eventually she met up with the man whom she seemed to vaguely recall but couldn't quite remember, for if she did remember she'd go insane. Insane with all the branched off timelines revolving around them.
    Garry. The man said his name was Garry. It was a familiar name, one that made her feel safe for reasons unknown to her. So she followed the man and they continued their normal route, passing from room to room and trial to trial without flaw. It was almost too simply for them to go along with the routine, and rather boring despite death at every turn for the duo. And then another knot in their routine unraveled and joined them.
    The new girl's name was Mary, a name that made Ib feel cold and broken yet not truly distrusting or frightened. And how odd that her routine had made the terrifying blonde seem like little more then a stranger. They continued their route, walking through the gallery before they were shortly pulled apart by that world's sick games. Ib and Mary went their way and Garry went his, both unknowingly aiding each other to their escape or death. But then one knot didn't come undone, and broke them from their routine. Mary and Ib had descended the stairs slowly, whispers and mutters becoming words and sentences spoken by an all too familiar voice.
    Opening the door the room she hadn't seen before revealed the girl's friend Garry, talking to what appeared in her eyes as multiple bunny statues. And try as she might she couldn't break the man from his trance, for he was simply beyond saving. But she wouldn't leave him, never. Their bond was simply too binding for her to leave him there, not after all he'd done for her. And so the girl gave up, sitting across from the man. She would wait for him there, always. And Mary tried to make Ib get up, but of course she couldn't. The bond between the two was simply too hard, even for her, after all their separate timelines.
    And so Mary decided that if they didn't intend to leave, she could simply make their eternity in the gallery as fun as possible. Paintings, dolls, statues, and much more surrounded the trio, Mary openly inviting them like one would a friend. Yes, they would stay there. And so Ib's vision went dark, the false reality- the Fabricated World- swallowing her whole, much as it had done to her dear friend Garry.
There would be no promises of reunion now.
No forgotten trips with one another there either.
Not even Ib left all alone, or a forgotten portrait for the young girl to stare at and wonder about.
    No, for they were now a part of Guertena's world. And as parts of Guertena's world, they played by his rules. Nothing but puppets on strings. For the rest of eternity.
    And what a grand time they would all have, nothing but their madness to entertain them. Fun, don't you think?
**NOTE: STORY MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR THE GAME. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

TIME: Roughly 31 minutes.
INSPIRATION: My boredom and lack of sleep.
~~~
Fandom: Ib
Disclaimer: Ib belongs to Kouri, not me.
~~~

Little story I demonspawned, no rough drafts or anything. Hope you liked it.
I think A Painting Demise was the name for that end, right? Or maybe it was Welcome to Guertena or something...
Oh well sorry if I was wrong, I haven't gotten all the endings yet. I just vaguely known most of them,  seeing as there are... 8, correct?
Anyways yeah, once again, hope you enjoyed.
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