Innerworks

3. Energy

Personalities need energy to function, what happens when they don't have enough?

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When Anxiety woke, the first thing he noticed was that the warm comfortable feeling was gone.

Well he wasn't awake per say, his eyes were closed and his mind was still muddled, heavy with fever and the need to simply sleep till the Oblivion.

All he knew was that the nice warmth he was holding onto was gone and he wanted it back, he didn't know what it was, it was just warm and soft and nice and he wanted it.

Or them.

What?

What 'them?'

Brown brows furrowed over closed eyes.

There was no them, that would mean that the warm thing was a person.

When last did he even allow personal contact?

Hands grabbing hands, blood, screaming, screetching- right, Thomas and the incident.

The brows knitted further together in confusion.

There was Logic- YELLING AT HIM- no, n-not there, he needed to move his train of thought elsewhere, Logic was right but he couldn't deal with that right now, not when he had to hunt for the warm.

Dad had ruffled his hair, no it wasn't him and wasn't he practically throwing up his stomach when that happened?

Oh wait no, that was afterwards, the person with him-

Two brown bleary eyes opened from beneath furrowed brows.

"Princey?" Anxiety gritted out, voice cracking and laced with exhaustion, placing a hand to his head, he winced visibly at the sudden migraine that throbbed between his eyes.

Prince was who he was looking for, Prince was that warmth, he didn't know why and he'd chalk it up to the fever, but he wanted Prince back.

"Prince isn't here"

Anxiety jumped at the voice.

Slowly the sick personality moved his eyes to the sound, there he saw a blurry figure, sitting on a wooden chair reading a book.

"He's helping Morality and Thomas right now", the figure came closer.

Anxiety squinted, his vision was blurry, even more so than yesterday, on the brightside though his head wasn't spinning and his stomach wasn't trying to heave itself out of his body.

"Log-ic?"

Both winced at the crack in the middle of the name, hoarse and rough, there was no doubt that Anxiety's throat was raw.

Of course it would be illogical to mention that as it was obvious.

"Last time I checked, that would be my name- sans the break in the middle of course, how are you feeling?"

The question wasn't asked with concern, it was more tinged with obligation than anything else.

Anxiety could sense this, and in here and now, he had absolutely no way of defending himself if Logic should snap at him, hell, he could hardly move his head, much less his body.

He didn't answer the other, instead he groaned, squeezed his eyes closed and curled in a bit, apprehension rising.

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