Re: The Haunting of the Rose - Chapter 5, Therefore I am Nothing
Elsewhere...
Willa's memory of the building was somewhat more...fanciful than the real thing. As Amare was led through what would in reality be small enclosed tunnels, he found them to be very comfortably sized, for an umbrean at least. Nooks that should be dusty and full of cobwebs were clean, tidy and void of any sort of insect or arachnid life. Cold stone felt warm and welcoming, whilst the slime that both he and Willa left behind drained away into non-existence. Meanwhile the walls, which Amare could only guess would normally have been crudely decorated by Willa's etchings, were covered in fanciful reliefs and arcane scripture. In other parts, more easily accessed by larger beings, what was likely student vandalism and graffiti, had been transformed into beautiful works of art. Mostly involving grand, poetic proclamations of love, or defamation of another's character.
In the brief moments they spent outside of tunnels - moving from one to the next - Amare found himself feeling tiny and insignificant as roofs and bookcases towered overhead, raised to impossible heights. In fact the whole building felt much larger than it should. The distance he was being made to travel gave the distinct impression that its scope rivalled that of a village or small town.
Despite this it still felt real. Perhaps due because of his new lower point of view?
But there were somethings that acted as a constant reminder that this was all in Willa's mind. Oversized paintings, resplendent in huge gold gilt frames hung on the walls, whilst massive statues of incredible detail graced the halls. Presumably once meant to feature prominent characters from the academy's history, mythical creatures, or significant historical events, they had all been replaced with incredible depictions of Willa's companions:
Phelan was featured in the largest paintings. Complete with official looking scrolls and fanciful robes, Amare could not shake the feeling of Awe for this apparent headmaster.
In contrast, Iron Jubei was given pride of place in the centre of rooms and corridors. The guardian recreated in three-dimensions. Even as huge as he was in real life, the Kaetyma would still be dwarfed by these representations of him. His legs as tall as huge redwood trees. Passing behind one of these towering pillars left Amare feeling safe and full of confidence. He noted how Willa would go out of her way, just to walk behind them.
There were fewer, smaller sculptures of Ceba too, standing on the sides of rooms. Amare got little impression from them, but did notice that the plinth upon which they stood was far larger than the statue, as though permitted room to grow. Getting too close to one, made his goo buzz with static electricity and allowed him to read the names on the plaques: Zebra-Koala is. Looking at them made Amare feel like giggling cheekily.
Some other paintings may have depicted Drex, but it wasn't entirely clear, as they appeared to have been defaced at some point. Amare could also see a discolouration on the walls around their frames as though bigger pictures once hung there. Despite this, it looked like recent and ongoing efforts were being made to restore them. Looking at them made Amare feel hopeful.
Amare also found artworks dedicated to him. Though so strange were they that it was impossible to tell whether they were actually paintings or sculptures inset into alcoves. They made him feel a flood of different emotions. Their many-armed forms - an unsettling mixture of both angelic and monstrous - inspired everything from fearful to confused, whilst carrying a deep underlying sensation of gratitude. This was perhaps emphasised when they seemed to shift out of the corner of his eyes, only to be still when looked at directly.
Other people were depicted in smaller paintings here and there. Some Amare recognised as people Willa had met on her journey and some he didn't. A man with a gruesome apendage for an arm, a druid of some sort, a giant, a secretive shadowy creature, some strange stones and a friendly but injured blue Musadi, to name a few.
In one dusty storeroom Amare also spotted other pictures, that had apparently been put away for safe-keeping. He caught the names of 'Daryl' and 'Keela' amongst others.
Willa entered another room and stopped. So used to running at this point was Amare that he had almost forgotten any other state of being and barely had time to stop himself from crashing into her. He saw the little umbrean's eyes shimmering wet. He followed her gaze.
In front of him was a towering painting - far larger than any he'd seen so far - with an equally massive tear in it. The canvas was entirely black apart from two small, red marks. He felt a sinister, vengeful presence lingering within them, staring hungrily back at his companion. At first he feared for Willa, but then realised that she was completely ignoring the painting - her attention directed lower.
He followed her eyes down, past the picture frame and an overly lengthy plague, to what first appeared to be a mountain of flowers unti he caught sight of something else within. Nestled there, crafted from opalescent crystal, was the tiniest of sculptures. So fragile it might break from a light breeze. It showed a little girl laying, perhaps sleeping, possibly dead, upon a large stone slab.
The pair stood there in silence for a few moments. Just as Amare was about to nudge Willa, fearing she may have forgotten herself, the oozeling took off again. He thought he heard a small whimper of I'm Sorry as she did so, but it could just as easily have been the wind.
Willa climbed the tower of flowers, that supported her weight well and showed no sign of age, blemish or decay. She kept clear of the small statue, so as not to disturb it, ascending towards the giant picture and the tear in it. From here Amare realised the gash was wide enough to accommodate even Iron Jubei and so was not surprised to see Willa jump through it. Following, Amare's world went black for a few moments. Then, with them closed despite not remembering that he'd shut them in the first place, opened his eyes and found himself standing inside a lecture hall.
The room was absurdly normal. Nothing about it was overly large or influenced by Willa's experiences in any way. He went to ask her why this was, but she was not there. He quickly located her on the stage, already far away, struggling to drag a stool over to the podium. From here, he could see a thick leather bound book on top it. Its stiff yellow pages brittle with age. As if in explanation to his unanswered question Willa called out to him:
"Oracle's is!"
