It was Ashdown once more, flashing across his mind. There was always a backdrop of static noises that he could barely stomach (sometimes sounding of a body that was about to give out, the sound wet and-) while he found himself overwhelmed by what looked like the town he lived in during the 1920s.
The streets were not quite the same, the people milling about and not aware. Unlike other times he found himself walking the streets, slipping in and out of people. (In a display of a store he thought, for a moment, he saw a necklace with a pendant of silver and garnet.) Eventually the crowds thinned away as the sun faded.
Moonrise. When was second moonrise, he wondered.
As if to answer him, he felt a drip of rain on him. Jeremiah raised his head up and looked towards the sky. The streets were now dreary and a chill was carried on the wind. Jeremiah would, of course, wander himself into other ashdown in his dreams. His feet had, without realizing, carried him towards the path to the Shore mansion.
Letting out a sigh, he closed his eyes. It was on his mind, whether or not things would be different there. The artist whose words had resonated with him and the portrait that had faded with time. No point in not having a look, especially since he had no idea how long he would be here.
Jeremiah just had not expected to do so on his own and while he was dreaming. The Shore mansion was there, however, and it was waiting.
shibroswol
so i did this thing.
