The Creator
It doesn't take long for the panic to set it. But it does take me a moment to act on it. What is going on?
On the floor, is Error, he seems to be in worse shape than I am. Laying on his side, I see part a sleeve on his jacket completely burned away...to the bone. He appears to be unconscious, just as I once was. I am hesitant to go to him. I don't know what happened. For all I know he could have done all of this!
But what exactly did he do? I take a cautious step forward. Titling my head to get a better look at his condition, gives me an excuse to get a little closer. Empty eye sockets meet mine. And soon a shock inducing question jumps at me. What if he's dead?
Forgetting any self restraint, I stumble forward. My hands hover over him for a moment. A second of doubt hovers over my mind like a thick fog. But there isn't time think about this right now. Error has to know what happened.
I carefully shake his shoulder, careful of any injuries that he could have sustained. But...how did he get so beat up? I seem to only have some soreness, but he looks like he got hit by a bus. Confusion strikes again, and doesn't seem to release it's grasp on me.
Error seems to be completely out of it. And that doesn't surprise me. I was just as unconscious as him, and the Multiverse only knows how long I was gone. As I kneel down next to him, I check myself to make sure I am uninjured. I do seem to feel a little damp, and still smell like smoke. Why would I have been wet?
I stare at Error, laying on his side. I decide that it isn't the best position to sleep in, so I lay him on his back. This would be the perfect time to restrain him. But...this...this isn't a good time.
I relax my shoulders and slouch in a little. Tiredness sinks into my being, even if I had just woken up only a few minutes ago. I can't leave if I don't know where I am. If anything I'm trapped. I sit down next to Error and wrap my arms around my knees, resting my head on top. I guess I just have to wait.
Wait for him to wake up, get some answers, and then get out of here. No hassle, no problem. I do want to avenge all those AU's that he has destroyed over these last few years. But not like this...
I have enough problems on my plate right now, outside of all Error oriented issues. A ball of tension builds up in my stomach, a new source of worry comes into the scene. When will I get sick next? How long can I go without the vials?
How much time do I have left?
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Found in Hidden Darkness
FanfictionIt doesn't just take a mind to be creative. There is saying that states "The artist has to put his whole soul into something for it to be considered good art." But one couldn't make good art, if he had no soul. But why won't anyone help? Why is Fat...
