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packsbeforesnacks · 4 years

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Blank Space || Darwin & Winn

TIMING: Wednesday, July 1st, 2020, Late Afternoon LOCATION: Fine Print (Darwin’s Bookstore) PARTIES: @wardinasrani & @packsbeforesnacks SUMMARY: Winn visits Winston’s contact, Darwin, hoping to find answers about his hidden memories. When Darwin looks into Winn’s mind, the answer shocks them both. WARNINGS: Brief depiction of an anxiety attack.

Truth be told, Darwin wasn't too keen on coming out of hiding. The ritual a couple of weeks back had drained him, and it had taken him days to even feel like himself again. He wasn't an idiot, he knew the Asrani probably had people on his trail, and he'd decided to disappear at least until his magic came back. Now he could feel his energy flowing through his veins once again, power crackling at his fingertips, but did he feel safe from the Asrani's reach? Not really. Still, this was a favor to Winston, the kid he'd doomed with a cursed eye, the kid that had allowed him to perform the ritual that had stopped what could very well have been an apocalypse. Darwin owed Winston, the whole town owed Winston. White Crest might not be aware of its debt to the kid, but Darwin wasn't going to forget the part Winston had played in keeping the world safe. He'd help their friend, even if that meant coming out of hiding. When he heard the bell on the store ring, he raised his head and offered a polite smile. The door was open, even though the sign outside said closed. “Welcome. You must be Winston's friend, correct?”

It had taken a minute for Winn to find Fine Print, especially given the gaps in his memory (ha) he was still filling in with regards to the town’s twists and turns. Each new street could have hidden shops he’d never been into — and that was even before you started thinkin’ about all the magical shit that Winn couldn’t see, or could only see part of. Winston had put a lot of faith in this guy, so he hoped their bet paid off. Fine Print was louder than any bookstore Winn had ever been in (admittedly, not many), noises echoing from behind each shelf as he made his way to the only other person in the store. Winn considered Darwin’s question longer than was really appropriate, given its straightforwardness. “Friend, yeah, that’s me.” Winn wasn’t sure if Winston considered him a friend, but he’d let that last worm of anxiety wriggle its way around his head when there wasn’t a hole in his head — memories, whatever. “You’re the, uh,” he glanced around, knowing full well that there wasn’t another soul — well, maybe he shouldn’t go that far — in the store, “specialist that they mentioned, right? Darwin? I’m Winn.” Should he sit? Should he shake hands? His normal social graces weren’t applicable here, in the mage’s home territory. And God forbid he pick up a book just to make himself feel less awkward.

Darwin smiled as he studied the newcomer. Part of him, the part that he tried to hide from himself, enjoyed his nervousness: as an Asrani he'd been taught to use other people's anxiety, wield it as a weapon in order to get the best bargain. It was the reason behind the villainous mustache, the dark silk shirts, the haunted noises in his domain and the theatricality in everything he did: it created expectations in other people minds, tricked them into thinking he shouldn't be messed with. But this particular meeting wasn't about scoring a good deal, it wasn't about covering his own ass... Winn was no threat to him, and Darwin had nothing to gain from this except the warm, satisfying feeling of a good deed done. It was worth it: he had much to atone for on behalf of his family, any small step to improve his standing in this community and his karma was worth the risks. He walked over to Winn and nodded, offering him his hand. “Darwin Asrani, yes. The... Specialist.” That word sounded a bit cold to his ears: mental magic wasn't surgery, it wasn't something anyone could ever truly master: each mind was different, each spell simple at its core but presenting unexpected turns and surprises at every corner. Darwin gestured toward the small door at the end of the store, leading to the basement. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Winn. Tell me, are you the type that would prefer some small talk before getting into the reason for your visit, or would you rather jump straight to the point? I can make tea.” He was aware that, to someone who didn't know him, anything he said probably sounded sinister, but nevertheless Darwin tried to keep his tone friendly and casual.

Winn took Darwin’s hand in his own and shook it firmly before letting go. “Um,” he said, frown on his face, “I don’t mean to be rude, but… smalltalk afterwards, maybe? Sorry, it’s just… if the problem can get solved, I’d rather get it over with. It’s been a pain.” He looked towards the door, humming a bit in the back of his throat. “Some tea could be nice, though? I’m, uh, a little nervous?” It wasn’t the first time Winn had met a spellcaster, sure, but magic was all still so new to him. That mystery, ironically, kept Winn comfortable. The more he knew about it, the more scenarios his mind would play out, trying to figure out what could be possible. He’d already lost two years of memories to magic — albeit of a different origin, apparently. Winn had seen Nell summon, what, hellhounds? Winn might be a scary story, but magic was a fairytale, and, save for demons, was the hardest thing for Winn to accept about the supernatural world. Even Otto’s assertion that his father had protected his office hadn’t eased Winn’s anxieties around it. “I, um, don’t know how much they told you, about me, but to cut to the chase… I can’t remember everything in my past. For two years, there’s a… blur. I thought that I had been,” turned into a wolf, “preoccupied, during that time. But some folks say they saw me during that time… and I don’t remember ever seein’ them. My, um, my friend threw me into a tree, recently, and I slipped into a, like, almost a fugue state? Not the kind from any sort of identity disorder, but I couldn’t remember — can’t remember — the next five minutes. I came to, but… Yeah. I don’t want that to happen again. Someone,” how to phrase this delicately? “... could get hurt.”

Darwin nodded and offered Winn another smile. “Nervous is exactly what you should be,” he murmured solemnly. Jumping into magic with no fear, no doubts, that was reckless and stupid. Winn's concerns were understandable, wise even. Then again, Darwin reminded himself, doubts could also become obstacles when it came to magic. “My tea is terrible,” he concluded with a shrug, hoping the joke would ease the tension as he led his guest to the room. Darwin opened it and walked downstairs. Walls covered with libraries, a small altar in the middle of the room, runes and circles scribbled and carved everywhere, and a small electrical stove, along with some kitchen supplies. The room wasn't well-stocked enough to live there, but it had enough supplies to make some tea, and while Winn shared his tale, Darwin listened carefully, keeping himself busy with the stove. At the end of the tale, he turned around, arms crossed as the water boiled. “Mh. I see. Two years is quite a long time. My first guess would be, well...” He paused and bit his lip, stroking his mustache as he stared at Winn, deep in thought. The young man wasn't sharing everything: vague words like 'preoccupied', the awkward pauses... Darwin sighed. “Actually, I have a couple of theories. I'm going to assume you already tried regular medicine. When people come to me, they're usually at the end of their rope.” There he went again with the villainous talk. He shook his head and continued “I mean... Messing with magic can be dangerous, I'm sure Winston told you, and people don't always trust a perfect stranger with their mind, and who can blame them? But you need to understand... If you want my help, you'll have to be honest with me, no lies, no omission, or someone could get hurt.” He chuckled after echoing Winn’s own words, trying to show the guy he wasn’t threatening him, just offering Winn the same honesty Darwin was demanding of him. “So before I share my theories, I have to ask... Are you willing to do that?”

The room was about as Winn imagined a sorcerer’s would be, somethin’ out of Arthurian legend or the study of Freyja, but with modern edges, and an… altar? Some sort of centerpiece, definitely, and Winn didn’t know nearly enough about magic to begin to guess at what the placement, the runes, the shapes meant. It was enough to send his head spinning, so he focused on Darwin, ignoring the thrum of energy in the air. He’d known, of course, that he’d have to admit what he was to the mage, but… Well, he wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t make him a bit uncomfortable, what seemed like every spellslinger in White Crest knowin’ about the werewolf with the broken memory. In the wrong hands, that information could be dangerous. But… Winn trusted Winston, knew that they wouldn’t intentionally steer him into a trap. “I’m willing. Um. I’m goin’ to assume you already know about… shapeshifters. Selkies, bugbears, and… werewolves.” He paced, careful to avoid stepping on anything not recognizably English. “I’m a werewolf. Bitten, not born. I, um, it’s been almost a decade. I have a friend whose parents trained him to be a hunter and we’ve been researchin’ for weeks — or, well, he has. Nothin’ we’ve found has been useful. Until a couple of months ago, I had just thought I was… transformed, for a really long time. Thought maybe the animal didn’t know… didn’t feel the passing of time? But I called up an old packmate after I got into a… fight, with another wolf. I’ve always been fairly in control of my emotions. But this was… different. And then, later that month, my friend tossed me into a tree while I was shifted, and I almost killed her. I pulled back, barely, but… My dad, he’s, um, a huxian? He suggested it might be magical, and then pretty much everyone else has thought the same thing. So… Tada. Here I am.” He gave a weak smile. “If you have any questions, I’ll answer them. Sorry, just… y’know, I’m not human, technically. Some folks aren’t big on that.”

“I know of shapeshifters, know they exist, but nothing really specific.” Darwin replied. The natural curiosity that had pushed him to explore the Asrani library even before his father was ready to begin his training was throbbing inside him, and it took all of Darwin's willpower not to ask Winn about a dozen questions. When he mentioned a Hunter friend, though, Darwin couldn't keep a small snort at bay. Talk about unlikely friendship. After a pause, Darwin moved his hand toward Winn's shoulder in an attempt to squeeze it to reassure him. And, well, the guy had amazing shoulders, Darwin couldn't deny it. “Don't worry. This here? Judgement-free zone. An amnesiac werewolf doesn't even score in the top five dangerous creatures that I've dealt with.” The loud whistling noise let Darwin know the tea was ready, and he quickly poured two cups, offering one to Winn. He took a sip from his own, squinted and then abandoned the cup on a small desk, mumbling something about needing more sugar. “Magic can erase memories. Or, rather... Make them inaccessible. Though I don't know why someone would do that to you. There's a chance they wanted to hide something else. Maybe you witnessed something a caster wanted to be kept secret. Maybe they even manipulated you and then blocked those two years out so you wouldn't be able to go after them.” Darwin started circling the room, pacing back and forth, talking more to himself than Winn. Then he suddenly stopped and turned to stare at the werewolf. “The wolf. Is it... A separate entity within you? Does it have wishes and urges that are different from yours? Is 'it' even the right pronoun? What I mean is... Are we dealing with one or two minds, here?”

The squeeze to Winn’s shoulder was comforting, if slightly too long. He resisted the urge to waggle his eyebrows, knowing that him being serious was the most important thing here, not flirting to ease tension. “Maybe sometime I’ll ask you ‘bout that list, man.” Winn sipped the tea after a moment, wincing at the bitter taste. Hm… Okay, so. Darwin hadn’t been lyin’, that was crap. Rather than be rude, he let it cool down. It would be water soon enough. There were theories, but Winn, not unkindly, didn’t want to hear them without knowin’ the truth. Darwin could deal with the magic; Winn would deal with whatever was waitin’ for him after he broke through. Winn gave the question some thought. “I… I mean, it’s me, right? I am the wolf, the wolf is me. It’s…” Winn sighed. No judgment, Darwin had said. “It was easier, when the wolf had blood on its claws, to act like it was… separate from me, in some ways. After a while, it became a habit.” He picked up the tea again, took a sip, made the same exact face. It’s not like his memory had been great before he’d had them taken from him. “But… I don’t know, when I’m transformed, even on the bad nights — near the Moon. I remember everything. I have since the end of that first year or so. Average, from what they tell me, for Bitten. When I almost attacked Blanche?” Winn gave a thoughtful hum. “It was… almost like an instinct, one that overrode my senses and consciousness. I… a defense mechanism? Could that be somethin’? I mean, I know for… humans, their minds can develop responses to trauma that can’t really be… explained, with a simple answer. So, maybe it’s just… my mind tryin’ to protect itself? Maybe there’s somethin’ down there that I shouldn’t touch? I don’t have any answers… well, except the original one, I guess. No. The wolf isn’t different, or, uh, isn’t supposed to be. Just a turn of speech.”

“Oh, it's a fascinating list, one better enjoyed in front of dinner.” The invitation in Darwin's words wasn't subtle at all, but he didn't push any further than that: they were having a Serious Conversation™ . “Defense mechanism, mh. Makes sense. You know earlier, when I asked you if you'd explored different venues before turning to magic? That's what I meant. Trauma can block memories, and that's as mundane as it gets, something I couldn't help with no matter how deep I dug. But from what you're saying...” Darwin hesitated, not sure how to phrase things. He'd never really discussed the nature of werewolves with anyone, let alone with an actual werewolf, so he wasn't sure what would cross the hypothetical line of werewolf etiquette. After a few moments, he decided he'd deal with this not unlike a medic: clinically, detached. But damn if he wasn't curious. “Well, from what you're saying, you normally remember what you do in wolf form, even if you can't always control it. So either what you've blocked is bigger and worse than any other stuff you remember, or there's something else at play.” There was only one way to know for certain, but Darwin wasn't sure how to bring it up: 'Hey, can I look inside your mind?' wasn't exactly a first meeting offer. Then again, it had been Winn seeking him out, so... “There's a spell I can do. It would allow me to take a peek under the hood, so to speak, catch a glimpse of what's going on in that head of yours. But I have to be honest: it's a one way show, I'll see some shallow thoughts, but you won't be able to see inside my head. It might feel... invasive, I suppose. But it's the quickest way I can get an idea of what's going on and at least narrow it down. On the bright side, it would only take a couple of minutes. And, ah... to even the score, I'll answer truthfully any one single question you may have about me. And, of course, any questions you might have about the process.”

Unlike his tryst with Jimmy, Darwin’s invitation didn’t make Winn feel quite so… gross. He was happy to flirt, but… well, after. Regardless of what Noah and he decided to do, bein’ charming was, well, part of his charm. “That sums it up,” Winn said, popping the p. Even for a werewolf, there were things Winn could comfortably say he didn’t know much about — subspecies that he’d only heard about in whispered rumors, whatever hybrid monsters Adam had spoken about. But this was different. “It gets… harder to control, near the Full Moon, yeah. And on,” the three days of, “the Full Moon, we transform. Bam, the legends are true. Some of them.” He laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “Let’s do it,” he said, immediately. Winn wasn’t one to wait, even if — when — waiting was the best option. When he saw somethin’, he needed to go and handle it. His memory had been weighin’ on him for too damn long, and he wanted to know. Curiosity, though typically noted of cats, called Winn to think hard about the question he’d ask Darwin, too. “Man, I’d have questions, if I knew what questions to even have. Um, will it… hurt? I guess? It doesn’t matter, I’ll take the pain, just… preparing myself, y’know. Werewolves and gettin’ hurt don’t always go great together, so please… I know you said I wasn’t dangerous, but I can be. So, I don’t know, maybe have a sleepin’ spell in your back pocket, in case you need to Sleeping Beauty me. If that’s a thing.” It had to be a thing, right?

“Wow, I give you a free pass at any personal info, and you don't go for my digits straight away? That tea must have been really bad. That, or I've lost my charm.” Darwin joked, adding a playful wink to the end of it for good measure. It seemed like Winn was more at ease whenever he assumed a less formal tone, so Darwin switched his posture to a more casual one. Yet, no matter how relaxed he wanted to keep it, he realized what Winn was saying was a real concern. Being trapped in a basement with a bloodthirsty monster was not something Darwin wanted to try any time soon. Sleeping spells existed, of course, but to check Winn's head he'd have to get close to him, so close that he wouldn't be able to even utter abracadabra before being ripped to shreds if the werewolf decided to appear. How quick did the change happen, anyway? Darwin shook his head to chase those distracting questions away, and looked at Winn, this time serious. “It will only hurt if you push me away.” The times he'd seen the ritual performed, when his father had done it to some unwilling rivals to steal their secrets, it had looked mighty uncomfortable at best and hellishly painful at worst. But Darwin himself had also done it with friends and lovers alike, using it to get closer to each other when words just wouldn't cut it. “This sort of spell can either feel invasive, or... Well, intimate, but that's up to you. It's why I offered you a question: trust will make it easier, on both of us.”

“Ah,” Winn said, an easy laugh coming out of his mouth. “I’m… goin’ on a first date with this guy, Saturday. I tried to… burn off some tension, if y’catch my drift, and it was a little weird. Given you’re about to poke around in my head, I feel like I should just come clean… If he and I had DTR’d or were open or whatever? Well, I know an easy way to help us both relax. That said, you could always steal a kiss away. Door’s open, Darwin.” He let that hang in the air for a moment, giving the man time to consider the offer. Sex? Definitely off the table, not even a little bit alright. But… one kiss? That wasn’t that bad of an idea. “So, ‘m not gonna be sorry if you see some colorful details in there, dude. You’re stacked and I have eyes.” He winked. “‘Sides, I’m fine with intimate. I’m tryin’ this new thing where I just tell folks shit that they might want to know. I won’t push you away. Hell, get as close as you need.” Winn thought through Darwin’s ask a little more carefully. It seemed, almost, like askin’ something would make the other man more comfortable. And, hell, he’d been thinkin’ a lot on the subject lately, so there was… one question that occurred to him. Winn was just the brand of shameless to ask. “What’s it like for you, when you fall in love?” he said before he could stop himself, though he quickly followed it up with, “I know you said… anything, but if that’s too, uh, personal, I get it. Really, I do. I can always get your number.” He smiled, this one a little more real, and left himself open to Darwin’s best… or worst.

Darwin seriously considered the offer: Winn was extremely attractive, and one way or another he was about to be inside him anyway. The way he licked his lips made it abundantly clear that the temptation was there, but ultimately Darwin shook his head, albeit a little reluctantly. “I'm not the sort to steal kisses, Winn. No way to enjoy the build up and the aftermath of a kiss if it's stolen and tinted with guilt. More importantly, I'm not a home-wrecker. Or, well, an opportunity-killer, if things aren't that serious. You seem pretty into this guy, and I'm not gonna jeopardize that.” Again, a wink, followed by a low chuckle. “That said, if come Saturday you two have defined things and the door's still open, I'll let you have my number anyway.” Winn's eagerness to share was refreshing; the people that usually came to Darwin were secretive at best, with far too many things to hide for Darwin's taste. Hell, Darwin himself had his fair share of secrets, but he only kept those because he knew they'd scare most people off, not because he really wanted to keep them hidden. What Winn asked, though? That wasn't scary, and Darwin let out a relieved sigh when he heard the question. “Not too personal at all. Could've asked way worse shit. But it is a... Difficult question. I could wax some poetry, feed you some lines like 'it just feels right', but truth is... I don't know.” With his father keeping such a close eye on him, Darwin had never gotten the chance to grow close enough to someone to fall, he'd barely had the time for the casual one night stands he'd somehow managed to keep a secret from his legacy-obsessed family. And once he'd finally left them, he'd been too busy moving from place to place, following demons summoned by the Asrani and fixing their mess. Wow. Up until that particular moment, Darwin hadn't really thought about how much his family had taken from him. “Never been in love, I don't think. Been in lust, had some intense friendships, but love? Never had the chance. I can only assume it feels... like home. Not my home, mind you, my home was a mess, but like... a not fucked up home. One that accepts all of you, one where you feel comfortable and safe and can be simply yourself and walk around in your boxers, one that smells like your favorite food and... Sorry, I guess I am waxing poetry now. What can I say, I'm a romantic at heart.” They were getting off topic, but it had been a while since Darwin had just had a pleasant chat with someone, one that wasn't necessarily about dark pacts, obscure rituals and potential apocalypses. Again, refreshing. “Why that question? Of all the questions you could have asked, you went for the love one right after sort of” another wink, the last in what felt like a long series for such a brief meeting “turning me down. Sending some mixed signals here, buddy.” Before Winn could have the chance to answer, Darwin placed a finger on his lips to silence him. “Actually… Perhaps you should answer that after Saturday, mh? After all, you did turn me down. I’m guessing that date is related to the question, and we don’t want you focused on all these confusing emotions right before I dive into your head. Besides, I’d like to talk more, get to know you. Platonically, I mean. Haven’t had the chance to meet many friends here, so… Let’s not burn all the steps with the deep personal love stuff just yet, mh?”

Leaning forward, Winn settled in for Darwin’s explanation. He couldn’t find it in himself to be… disappointed, per se, but Darwin’s decision to stay out of his and Noah’s dance — or, well, Twister game — only confirmed that Winn could trust this man, even if the man had a story, a past, and plenty of secrets. If he wasn’t relaxed before, the last coil of anxiety had been taken from his gut. When Darwin explained, Winn couldn’t help but smile a bit. The honesty was nice; Darwin reminded him almost of Rio in that way. Romantic at heart, a big apologetic for when he rambled, but ultimately kinder than… well, what White Crest could turn people into, if they let it. When Darwin’s finger left Winn’s lips, he nodded. “I’d like that, too,” he said, after a moment. “But,” he clapped his hands together, “leeeeet’s do this. Spread me open, bro.” Wow. Talk about an innuendo. There was an energy to this interaction, and Winn wasn’t sure if it was the magic coursing through, what, Darwin’s veins? Or if it was simply the chemistry of two future friends. Either way, Winn was diggin’ it. Felt better than wiggin’ about his memories. “How do you want me?”

Darwin tried to keep a straight face. Seriously, he gave it his best shot, he bit his tongue and winced at the pain of that. But in the end, he just couldn't keep it in, and his loud, baritone laughter echoed in the basement. “That was... so bad,” he finally let out with a gasp, shaking his head. “I've used some terrible pick up lines, but you've got me beaten.” Again, he patted Winn's shoulder, this time the relaxed gesture of two buddies sharing a good laugh and nothing more. Well, almost nothing more, the guy still had incredible shoulders, and Darwin's hand lingered there. He used the contact to cop a feel, sure, but also to lead Winn toward the desk where his tea had been abandoned. With his leg, he pushed the chair, to give Winn room to sit, and then he gently pushed the man on it. “At the cost of being just as cheesy as you've been, I'll need you to relax, it'll make it easier. I'm also going to look like one of those evil hypnotists you see on TV, but no pocket watch or swirling spirals. Just some intense eye contact as I try to establish a... a connection with your mind.” As he spoke he lowered his voice to a soft whisper, and put both his hands on Winn's temples, tilting his head slightly so he could look in his eyes. “Just focus on my breathing, and try to match it. Slow and easy. Take me in as you inhale, let your worries out as you exhale. Like meditating, but we're doing it together.” For a moment he wondered if his sandalwood cologne would smell chemical to a werewolf this close, and if he could sense Darwin's natural scent, but instead of dwelling on that — more questions for their potential friendly outing — he started gathering his energy. He didn't need words for this particular ritual but he kept murmuring, to give Winn something to follow as Darwin visualized his own conscience enveloping his hands. He couldn't see auras, but he liked to think his right now would look like a bright ball of energy surrounding Winn's head, warm and almost electrical as his essence moved around, gentle, tentative almost, looking for an opening, hoping Winn (more importantly, his wolf instincts) would feel safe enough to make his job easier.

Even if it had been an accidental joke, Winn still was happy to hear Darwin laugh, even slightly at his expense. “Only terrible,” he said, with another friendly wink, “if it’s never worked.” He allowed Darwin to put one of his big, warm hands on Winn’s shoulder — and, hm, okay, heel boy — and guide him to sit. Darwin was close, and he was right, this was intimate. Winn could think of partners whose face he hadn’t gotten this close to. Winn snorted at the joke, but tried his best to relax. In, out. Darwin smelled like cologne, sandalwood one of the few scents that Winn enjoyed, but if Winn inhaled deeper, and he did, he could smell something… like a burning, almost, but it was faint. Underneath, though, Darwin’s scent reminded him of… Ricky’s, almost. Saltwater and the outdoors, someone perpetually destined to be a wanderer. Unlike the mountain scents that Winn associated with pack, this one was, admittedly, a little strange to him. Not… bad, but strange. In, out. Darwin’s hands on his head buzzed, almost, and it wasn’t painful, not quite, but the feeling was… too much, almost. His mind had only ever had Winn in it, that he’d remembered, but. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. His eyes, though open, lulled to a half-closed state, his gaze lost in Darwin’s dark ones. There was so much on Winn’s mind, at all times, but here, like this, the cores rose up to meet Darwin. Winn wouldn’t describe it, except that his mind was… light. Noah, his friends, his newfound purpose, all lived there, linked together and shining out from Winn. Without thinking, his lips slid into a smile. Inhale. Exhale. The light, though, cast… a shadow. And within that shadow, concealed from vision, was a hole. The shadow, his mistakes, his anxieties, the ways in which he’d failed, time and time again, to make things right. And, if Winn followed Darwin’s energy, he could almost feel the absence in his mind. It hurt, more than he could describe, but it wasn’t… physical. It was grief, loss, unnamed things and unremembered things. And then, Winn’s eyes glassed over, as Darwin looked into what his mind refused to see.

Winn's mind was not what Darwin would have expected when looking into what people often described as a savage beast. While the spell was too superficial to really put faces to the soft feelings swirling inside Winn's head, it was clear that those bonds meant a great deal to the man sitting in front of him. That was the mind of a protector, not a monster. Like demons, perhaps werewolves were misunderstood, and people should focus more on their deep sense of family and pack rather than their fangs and claws. Then again, this might just be Winn, not a werewolf thing. Darwin had learned long enough not to generalize when it came to these things. Feeling Winn grow more comfortable with what they were doing, he dove deeper, moving past the superficial thoughts, those that were either so ingrained in Winn's core or so fresh that the man had no trouble remembering them on his own. The painful memories, the doubts and fears weren't unexpected; everyone had dark corners in their mind, and Darwin did his best to move past those as quick as he could, to let the man have as much privacy as he could give him. But what he sensed next... Darwin's spell was meant to let him reach within for things he'd lost, things that might have been locked away. And once he'd found those cages, he'd just open them and return the memories to Winn. Simple, clean. Except there were no cages. What he saw was... a void. Like a puzzle missing a few pieces. Darwin paused, so baffled that Winn would probably be able to sense it through their temporary connection. Winn's memories weren't trapped, they weren't hidden under a hazy fog, or lost in an endless sea. They were just... a blank space. Darwin moved his thumbs' on Winn's temples, trying to soothe him as best he could as he lingered in his head, searching for something that wasn't there. Perhaps it was the fact he was dealing with a wolf, but the longer he spent looking, the more he felt like a dog chasing a ball that'd never been thrown. He spent minutes hunting, each moment everlasting, but no matter how much he tried... Nothing. Finally Darwin gave up, and he slowly pulled back, his hands releasing Winn's face as the last remnants of his conscience left him. He gave Winn a few moments to recover before opening his mouth to speak. And then he closed it again, not sure how to break the news to him. The silence, coupled with the grim expression on Darwin's face, spoke volumes, and when he finally made a sound it was tentative, guilty almost. “How are you?”

The fuzz from Darwin’s temporary confusion stung at Winn’s temples, almost like brain freeze, and he felt himself wince even if he was practiced enough at weathering pain to not break the connection. In, out. He bit into his lip, so hard he was half-sure it was bleeding. Darwin spent more time in his head, looking for what he wasn’t sure. Winn trusted the spellcaster — or, trusted that Winston trusted the spellcaster — and knew that, if he could just wait, just be patient, then Darwin would ever be able to put his fractured mind back together. But, the longer Darwin looked, the more Winn began to sense that… that maybe his mind wasn’t fractured, so much as missing something. That hole, the one hidden beneath the shadows, was that… was that an actual hole and not just a place where things were hiding in wait? He felt a spike of anxiety run through him as Darwin pulled away, and Winn searched his face. When the silence didn’t break, when Darwin’s mouth just kept opening, shutting, and the look grew even more grave, Winn started to ask… and found he couldn’t. How are you? Well, panicking, if Winn was going to be honest. He took a few breaths, trying to calm himself down, but he knew the signs of an anxiety attack like the back of his hand. Winn hadn’t had one in years, had grown to an expert at managing them between therapy and becoming a counselor-in-training himself. But something about this one was different, and Winn felt himself burying his face in his hands, blocking out the light, blocking out Darwin’s pained expression. There was a part of him that wanted Darwin to touch him, to reach out and say something. And then there was the part, equally as strong, that was sure that would make him lash out at someone who didn’t deserve it. And so Winn took shuddering breaths as he tried to wrap his head around what he sensed was true. Finally, a whisper, “... They’re not there.” It wasn’t a question.

Darwin could only watch in silence as emotions danced on Winn’s face, and he felt like some sick peeping tom, even more so than when he’d been inside his mind. He watched as doubt turned to fear and then into terrible certainty, and he felt powerless to help Winn. The selfish part of him was glad at least that the werewolf seemed to have grasped the situation, it kept Darwin from struggling with how to break the news to him. As things stood now, there was nothing his magic could do for Winn: nothing to release, nothing to fix. Maybe, maybe Darwin could help if only Winn had a vague hint about where the memories had gone. Who’d taken them. But this whole situation was obviously something Winn didn’t fully understand, and Darwin assumed if he’d had some vague suspicion he’d have shared it with him. Darwin could maybe tell him that, should the memories be found, it would be possible to put them back where they belonged, but right then, staring at Winn’s chest rising and falling with deep breaths as he tried to calm himself down, Darwin didn’t have it in him to offer his new acquaintance (possible friend?) any false hope. So, after a long, endless pause, he just lowered his head and sighed. His hand moved once again to Winn’s shoulder, this time not to feel the muscles there, but just to offer a small anchor in this moment where the rug had been pulled from under his feet. He opened his other arm in a silent invite, and simply whispered… “No. No, they’re not.”

#wickedswriting #para #Darwin #Blank Space #Chain of Memories

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