[ For a nine-year-old girl, Ib is doing surprisingly well for herself. Of course, she's a pretty brave nine-year-old girl.
After waking up on the beach with cool waves lapping at her feet and warm sand caressing her face, she had to confirm that, yes, where she woke up was not anywhere like her home. Bright red eyes widened a bit, finding herself away from home, again, so soon after leaving the gallery.
She takes a moment to regain her bearings, shoes spinning in the sand and hair swaying, and she glances around the area. A mansion to the north, a group of buildings to the other side. If there's a mansion, then there must be people, right?--Or so goes her thought process.
She steels her expression as she meanders to the mansion, preparing to look for anyone that may be there to help her find her way home. A garden greets her vision, vibrant colors coming to life in front of her eyes, some of which she doesn't even know the name for. The garden is beautiful, but--
It just reminds her of the gallery, of the rose that meant her life, and her hands protectively reach for the ribbon around her collar. A chill seeps its way into her heart, and for the first time since arriving, Ib feels utterly alone. ]
Is... is anyone there?
[ Her voice is small, uneven, wavering. But she remembers that she must be brave to talk to people, to find her way home -- and not a moment later, her expression hardens and she takes a deep breath, preparing to find someone, anyone.
It was how she found help--and even friends--before, after all. ]
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