The daily droll. Don't get me wrong, William Whittaker enjoyed working the Auryn. He was a meticulous sort and making sure everything was right and in it's place gave him a sort of satisfaction. It was also a wonderful distraction when life was in chaos. The young librarian definitely considered his life to be in chaos. He was dizzy wit the sudden activity in his 'love life' if you could call it that. But there was more than just a simple and sudden bloom in his social life. Will himself was evolving. The past two weeks had forced Will to take a more active position in his life. The Auryn being vandalized made him feel unsafe in his own home, so he did something about it. He had Samara Ashby teach him to shoot a gun. Someone had hurt his feelings, so he did something about it. He 'said' something. He'd discovered that if he wanted people to stop trying to protect him, he needed to take initiative and do something first.
A simple life lesson, yes? Unfortunately it had taken Will twenty-five years to learn it. Better late than never.
Squeaky wheels of the library cart sent a comfortable sort of erratic vibrations through the handle as Will pushed it along the aisles. In a world of silence, everything was relayed to him through touch... and sight. William was blessed with an eidetic memory and very sharp eyes. Such things were useful in general, but they became especially useful when returning books. Patterns were particularly memorable in Will's mind. The way book bindings seemed to weave together, old and new alike, melding in to a seemingly endless cycle of stripes and colors. As a boy, Will would pretend they were long snakes that held the very walls of the Auryn together. He pushed the cart lazily through the 'Herbs and Magical Plants' section of the library, returning pieces of the patterned puzzle as he passed. That's when his eyes came across something very unfamiliar.
It was a break in the pattern. A straight white cut in the uniformity of book bindings. White as snow, it had no title, no notification as to who it belonged to. Curious, Will slipped out from behind the cart and stepped closer to observe the foreign object, not yet touching it, simply looking. "Interesting..." He though to himself. He ran a slim finger down across the textured binding, then called out in his mind, wondering if Tristan was even within the vicinity of the Auryn or not,
"Tristan? Did you collect any new books that you didn't tell me about?"
The message was direct towards his brother, it would not have been heard by anyone else, less perhaps another telepath had their 'sensors' turned up. His mind continued to stretch from his current position to all other corners of the library as he plucked the book from it's resting place.
"A pretty book." He mused to himself. He touched the cover, examining it before finally opening it and flipping through the pages. He stopped near the somewhere at random to read a few lines, perhaps that way deciphering what exactly this book was. To his surprise, it was blank... but as he watched, ink seemed to our from the edges, forming words and sentences as if literature could walk without a pen.
...and the dog continued to bark. The boy was so angry. His head full of chatter, things people wanted done, that they wanted to do, the visual words of bullies from school. He glared out the window at the dog who silently yapped his jowls and bared his teeth. All his hate in the world suddenly became represented by this single animal. His mind became focused and furious. He felt the swirling simplistic mind that inhabited the mangy animal. A sick bile gurgled in the boy's stomach right before he saw lights tiny stars playing tricks in his eyes. He blinked. The dog fell lifeless. No more simple mind, no more silent protests of the boy's existence... only emptiness. an absence of something that once existed.
Suddenly, the boy threw up.
Will's telepathic reach for his brother ceased in an instant. He stumbled back, finding balance at the back of the cart. No one could know... The very day Will vowed only to ever use his powers to communicate. The very reason he never tried to press the facets of his ability, it was written out word for word in this odd, little book. He'd never told a soul. Alarmed and ill at the very memory, Will tucked the book beneath his sweater. He tried to calm his flustered emotions and quickly continued about setting back the books in the cart.