[Cavorting with Witches]

Over the course of the hug color had been steadily spreading from where Mary stood, though the surroundings weren't making much more sense than they were before. It looks like the Labyrinth is gradually taking on the appearance of a brightly painted impressionist style landscape? That seems to be the artistic style that most impressed upon Mary. The pictures she created with her bricks certainly suggested it.

But when she tried passing the threshold and recoiled the paint begins rotting and festering into toxic mud again.

It seems as though the state of the Labyrinth is a reflection of her state of mind.

Considering that it is an extension of her, a part of her, that shouldn't be too much of a shock.

Mary nods at Sekhmet's question, still clutching her hand protectively. She looks down at it, working her fingers to make sure they're all still there.

"Am I trapped in here, ma'am?" Mary asks, a hint of hopelessness creeping into her voice.

In the distance shadows loom.

Misshapen, shattered factories and smoke-stacks belching soot.