Building 11's inside didn't really look like it belonged to Gustav Klimt. It looked like a repurposed warehouse curated by a brand strategist - polished concrete floors, tastefully distressed graffiti, exposed beams that screamed authentic urban energy™. The kind of place where creativity wore a lanyard and reported to marketing. Everything felt calculated, clean, and utterly devoid of soul. But then they walked through a set of black curtains, and suddenly the world turned gold.
The first hall was dim, deliberately moody. Classic Klimt - The Kiss, Portrait of Adele, Judith - all glistening and massive and unapologetically sensual. Gold leaf shimmered like it was trying to flirt with the lighting system. Void stood there for a moment, deadpan. "So basically... horny Catholic iconography with better taste?"
Uly snorted. "Don't disrespect the man, he saw a naked woman once and never recovered."
They lingered longer than either of them admitted. Uly drifted closer to the plaques, pretending to read them, while Void scanned the paintings like she was looking for a message written just for her. She didn't understand half the symbolism, but the chaos, the feminine reverence tangled in danger - that she got.
Then came the immersive room.
"Oh no," Void muttered as the walls came alive, pulsing in gold and shadow.
The floor was part of it too, flickering with patterns that moved just slow enough to fuck with your equilibrium. Animations twisted Klimt's lines into serpents of color, blooming and falling apart like timelapse decay. Music played low and haunting, narrated by some posh art school dropout explaining Klimt's obsession with women, spirituality, and inner truth.
"'Klimt sought to explore the feminine as a vessel of divine transformation,'" the voice intoned.
"Translation: he was down bad," Uly whispered, lips close to Void's ear.
Void smirked, but she didn't trust herself to answer. Her knees felt wobbly. The projections were doing something to her depth perception - it was like the floor kept breathing, like the walls were leaning in. It was gorgeous, but disorienting.
"I feel like I'm gonna fall through the damn ground, she muttered.
"Maybe that's part of the experience," Uly offered, leaning slightly closer. "Die dramatically in Klimt's womb or whatever."
Void let out a laugh she didn't mean to. It sounded foreign, almost like it belonged to Aura. The gold reflected in Uly's eyes, catching like sunlight in storm clouds, and Void had to look away. Too much.
A moment passed. Just the sound of music, whispering brush strokes, and the occasional shuffle of other patrons trying not to trip.
"You alright?" Uly asked, voice low.
Void didn't answer immediately. Just kept her eyes on a swirl of golden hands projected onto the wall. Then, quietly: "Yeah. Just... feels like standing on the edge of a dream."
Uly nodded slowly. "Same."
Neither of them moved. The world could fall through the floor and Void might have actually been kinda okay with it.