Saving Prince Charming

So It Begins.

Honestly, Logic didn't know what to make of it either. And that, that was one of the weirdest statements he's ever had to make in his lifetime with Thomas Sanders. He knelt beside the unusually quiet Prince, shaking his head softly. And after a long while, Logic knew he couldn't delay the inevitable anymore.

"I don't get it. I don't know why this is happening, Prince. But I do know that if this keeps going, then you—"

"Will die." The words rang within their head, with an almost-echo tailing them. They were heavy, permanent, and it only seemed to make their situation sound worse.

Logic knew, that logically, the words made no real difference. But that was what it felt like, and sometimes those were two different things. Even for him.

"I guessed that much when I became semi-paralyzed." Prince's voice was dry, and while this applied in the literal sense, it was just as valid in a figurative one. It reminded Logic much of Anxiety, but he supposed that wasn't a good thing to bring up at a time like this.

Especially looking back on the events of the night before.

It's not like the mindsets meant to eavesdrop on each other, they just shared the same real estate. And with how loudly Prince was thinking and feeling, it wasn't like they could not hear him. It was one of the struggles of their profession.

[And how could Prince have not heard (felt?) Anxiety's distress yesterday? Evidently, he was just as stubbornly judgmental as ever, even now. He had only been trying to help.]

Speaking of: everyone in Thomas' head (except Thomas, of course) ought to have heard their exchange by now. And he was right— in the direction of Anxiety's domain, he felt a harsh pang of something sharp, aimed inward toward himself. In Dad's thoughts, he felt dismay and something that was akin to (but not quite) shock. Instead, it was more like the last traces of denial leaving the trait like a shed skin.

"Yes. Most likely." Logic sighed. "But for now, a few recommendations: keep up on your rest, take care of yourself, and do try to not start up any discourse. I'm assuming that getting too excited will do you no good, and also... we're all you've got, Prince."

"Yeah, yeah." He rolled his eyes, but they held more fear in them than disdain.

"Mm. That's what I thought. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got an errand to run. Morality will watch over you for now." He sunk into their consciousness like it was his only savior (and perhaps, it was. Out of sight, out of mind, all that jazz) and fled the scene.

*

"Come on, Anxiety. I know you're out here somewhere." Logic had been wandering the darkest sectors of Thomas' mind for a while now, and he hadn't achieved anything other than getting himself hopelessly lost.

Anxiety was the only one to ever be able to make sense of these landscapes, after all. He had just turned a corner when—

"Well well well, what's a nice trait like you doing in a place like this?"

"Holy—! Jesus, Anxiety. What the hell." He was smirking, but it was transparent, meaningless.

"What, I can't defend my personal space with a joke or two? Where's the logic in that, eh?"

"Just stop. You don't have to pretend to be an ass all the time."

"But it's my best feature."

"...Okay." Logic let out an exasperated breath.

He had long since learned that when Anxiety was like this, it was useless to try and combat him; so he decided to just cut to the point of his visit.

"Well, I know you heard me over there." He spoke quiet enough so that the other characteristics couldn't hear; which is to say, very quietly.

"Yeah. Why should I care? I mean—"

"I know it wasn't you, Anxiety." The darker trait's bravado instantly deflated, and his posture along with it. He shrunk in on himself, his shoulders hunched and his eyes downcast.

He had hit the nail on the head, as always.

"You don't know that. Not even I know that." Even his voice sounded smaller, guarded.

"Which is one of the reasons that I know you're not to blame. That, and your... conversation last night."

"...You heard that?"

"Dad too."

"Shit. Shit, I hate this."

"We know." Logic let out a huff of breath, looking off to the side into the black-as-pitch walls that Anxiety tended to inhabit. "And I know that your determination to save him runs deep anyway. That's why I'm here, actually. Two things." Anxiety just took a moment to stare balefully at Logic, clearly urging him to get on with it already. He had been done with this conversation since it had taken a nosedive towards Prince's... condition.

"One: whatever you're thinking, do not try to hurt yourself. In any way. I don't care if you think it'll make Prince better."

"Duh." Logic glared at him for a couple of seconds, but moved on without comment.

"Two: I think it might be time to go visit Thomas. In the real world. He... won't listen to me anymore. Or Dad, very much, it's like we've been muted or something. I don't know why, but—"

"I've been trying to give him a break."

"I know that, but look. It isn't good for you to keep it all bottled up. And you might find out what's wrong. That helps him more in the long run than anything, and more than makes up for a few minutes of 'getting his blood pumping'."

"I guess."

"Good." Logic pushed up his glasses, sighing his apprehension. "But hurry. Time is of the essence."

"Yeah."

The intellectual trait then made his descent into the darkened mind-scape, on his way to do... something, probably. Anxiety didn't really know or care where he was going.

He just hoped he was going to go help the Prince somehow. Which was illogical, since there was nothing he really could do.

"Welp. Suppose it's time for a field trip, then."

And with a small sardonic and self-depreciating chuckle, he was on his way.