Wither, Whither [AU] [Private, Join-Requests Allowed]

The girl averted her gaze, but nodded, "If you say so, I'll trust you."

Anya sighed a bit. "...Alright. Mary, I'm going to first give you the ability to sleep. Then I'll tuck you into bed, and while you sleep, I'll do some work to make your body more 'real'. I'll even make sure that you have good dreams while I'm at it. How does that sound?"

"Good...!" Mary replied, trying to sound more confident than she was. Anya had brought her from the gallery. She'd fixed Ib. And she'd taken her here to this wonderful place. She couldn't logically doubt in the woman's words. And she didn't want to, because they were friends - and friends had faith in each other. But... the uncertainty gnawed at her nevertheless, and she couldn't just will it away no matter how she tried.

Anya paused a bit. "...Mary, if you're nervous, we can wait a bit. And.. you know, if you have any questions, you can ask me anything."

The girl's expression... twitched, in a way, "I... just... I... I'm fine it's just..." She buried her face in her hands, "It's just too hard to believe!" She blurted out, without thinking, only to bury her face even deeper - her arms replacing her hands. "I can't just believe you! I want to, but I can't! I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

Once again, Anya was compelled to comfort the girl. She sat down, and gently pulled Mary into her lap, wrapping her arms around her and resting her chin on Mary's head, sighing softly. "I was thinking that, honestly. You've been very brave, Mary, and you've done your best to trust me despite just meeting me. I would have been surprised if you didn't have doubts... I certainly don't blame you for it, and you don't need to apologize. You haven't done anything wrong that you need to apologize for."

"But friends trust each other!" Mary asserted.

Anya smiled a bit at that. "They do, yes. But we just met, Mary. It's perfectly natural for you to be struggling with this. I come out of nowhere, knowing your name, and making all these sudden changes to your life, I expected you to be a bit wary. Trust, even between friends, is something that has to be earned. Blindly trusting someone just because they are a friend, isn't a good way to do things. Even the closest friends can sometimes hurt each other, without even meaning to. Life is funny that way..."

Mary frowned in confusion, "But if I'm not supposed to trust you, how can I be your friend? That doesn't make any sense..."

Anya chuckled a bit. "It's not that you are not supposed to trust me, Mary. I want you to trust me. I just meant that it's understandable that you are having trouble with it. And also, having trouble here doesn't mean you don't trust me. There are different... levels, of trust, I guess. You can trust one person more than another, but still trust them both. I know it sounds odd, but that's how it is. Plus, a friend, Mary, is someone you like, and want to see happy; and who returns those feelings. It's two people who have affection for each other. Trust is important, but trusting someone completely is hard to do. Complete trust has to be earned. And I want to earn that from you. So... would you like to know why I showed up at the gallery? How I already knew your name?"

Mary blinked, "Didn't Ib tell you? But she never left. But you met her in the... waiting room, you called it... but that doesn't make any sense either!"

Anya gave Mary a gentle squeeze to calm her. "I'll explain, Mary. But to do so, I have to start with something unpleasant. Do you know what 'death' is?"

The girl shook her head, musing aloud, "Father made a sculpture called 'Death of the Individual.' They were really nice. But 'death'..."

She didn't, and she shook her head in bewilderment, "What's her soul? That was Ib I talked to, right? I can tell. It was Ib. There's no way I could be wrong abut that."

"You're right. That was Ib. You need to understand, the body is... basically a container. It's like a living box, that houses a person's soul. The soul, is what makes a person who they are." She paused for a moment. "Like your painting. You were born from the painting, and bound to it. You could consider the painting your body, and you are the soul. The painting, the body, is not friends with Ib. You, the soul, are friends with Ib. The body is simply a container for the soul, that allows the soul, the person, to interact with the world around them. Do you understand?"

The girl mulled over Anya's words, "I... think so. So... Ib... really did leave?"

Anya sighed softly. "Not by choice, Mary. Ib wanted to stay with you, and Garry, but she didn't have a say in that. Her body was sick, and it failed her. That's just how life is sometimes. The reason I brought her back was because I... I can't stand to see people suffer like that... now, Mary, Ib's soul wasn't the only one inside her body. From the very beginning of her life, to the point that she died earlier tonight, a small piece of my own soul was with her. When she died, that piece of my soul returned to me. Every memory, every feeling that Ib had, is with me as well." Anya squeezed Mary a bit tighter, smiling. "I considered you a friend even before you asked, because Ib did. I'm not Ib, and I know you barely know me... but I do care about you a great deal, Mary, and all I want for you, is for you to be happy..."

Mary was confused. Party of Anya was inside of Ib, if she understood right. But did that mean Anya was part of Ib? Was Ib part of Anya? It was confusing. But... whatever else... she really did want to trust in Anya, and Anya's words. It was just... just that... "...it's... scary. I don't know what it's like. What it will be like. Will I still be 'me' or... something else? If the 'me' in front of you is like the soul... like the 'real' me. If you change this 'me' won't that change..." She trailed off.

Anya could see the problem now. "Ah... Mary, what I plan to do, is more like... well, to put it simply, think of it as that your soul, the real you, created a 'shell' around itself, to allow you to interact with the physical world; something a soul usually cannot do. Because your soul was separated from your body, the painting, it had to create a secondary body; one that could move around, since the painting could not. Now that you are seperated from the painting, that shell is now your body. I plan to change the shell, that's all. Your soul won't be affected at all."

Anya's words and sincerity had worked wonders and, while Mary still felt some wariness, it wasn't as crushingly overbearing as it was before, "Then... can you... 'fix' me? I mean, my... shell?"

Anya nodded to that. "I can, Mary, and I will. I can't fix everything at once, but I can fix things a bit at a time. I want to start with making you able to sleep, and dream. And while you sleep, I'll work on your 'shell' a bit more."

Mary nodded, much more certainly than before, "Alright."

Anya moved her hands to Mary's head, gently pressing her fore and ring fingers to her temples. "Try to relax. This will only take a moment. You will start to feel tired. Like your eyes are heavy. It's nothing to worry about, it's a sign that it worked. It's something everyone feels when they are tired and need to sleep."

Mary did as instructed, and blinked in surprise when the sensation Anya tried - and nearly failed - to describe appeared as predicted. It was... weird. She truly couldn't describe it at all, beyond suddenly feeling the want to close her eyes. "It's weird..." She stated, voicing her thoughts aloud.