It seemed like there was nothing left, whatever purpose he had found in his quest to try and free Heliodora was gone, and it felt like it had taken whatever peace of mind he had left with it. Depression was nothing new to him; it was an old ‘friend’ that frequented his life; an unwanted houseguest that had very little sense of personal space. It hung off you and pulled you into a sort of grey mood at best, or a dank basement of a mood at others.

It was just, lately; moments when he felt happy were alarmingly brief, and honestly hard to remember. Vega and the beer; that had been fun, movies and junk food and… well it had been nice.

But it didn’t last. How could it knowing they were all dead, and Jer knew, but wouldn’t drop names … it was crap, it left him angry which was almost a reprieve but even that was like soggy tinder. Sparks and flames where it was dry but smoke and ash before you knew it, all grey and bitter tasting.

He thought for a moment that he hadn’t managed to slip into Other Ashdown at all, his umbrella wasn’t greeting the misty rainy world with the familiar tap-tap-tap of perpetual rain. He even went so far as to make his meandering way to Bibliophile to see if the books had gone ‘strange’. That at least seemed like it would be permanent proof of where he was, that and the food.


He was so down as he wandered that he really didn’t notice at first, even when he was re-shelving the book he’d been examining in Bibliophile, he was a good employee till the end after all. He half noticed it at best honestly, and even then it was more of a feeling than anything definite.

There was a prickle that crept up the back of his neck, that feeling that you sometimes got when people were watching you especially hard, or that pins and needles ‘run just run’ sensation that took hold of you when you watched an especially good horror movie alone and then tried to move through a dark room or hallway.

He turned to try and catch the half perceived motion, but there was nothing, no one. It was there though, he knew it, or he was pretty sure he did. It might after all be little more than paranoia.

He left his umbrella in Bibliophile, and continued his walk, trying on some level to disprove that there was anything there, but there were sounds, or rather the lack of them. There was nothing, a terrible dearth of sounds that pressed down on him like a hand and made him afraid to turn around and look directly at whatever followed. If anything, while his steps slowed a moment he quickened his pace for a while. Not a very long while, because he made himself slow down again, made his pace measured and closed his eyes, one step after another till he had to open them again or risk smacking into a light pole.

He had a goal in mind at least. Perhaps, just perhaps he could make it to his Mother’s house.

The thought was for a moment one of safety, but then there was the knot of guilt and grief that lodged in his throat. She was gone, just like the missing children. He had one name left and he’d never heard of it till Temperance had turned it up in the Library. He’d even told Shun to tell Jer.

Part of him was mad enough that he wished he hadn’t. What if, after all, what if that young man was some final piece to the cage? Worse, what if he had been the key all along. The thoughts almost distracted him, almost, from the thing that followed.
He clenched his fists, tightening them to white knuckles against the sensation that eyes were still on him.

He turned abruptly trying to catch sight of it, of the soundless nothing that made it seem like Ashdown, or rather ‘Other Ashdown’ was holding it’s breath.

It was worse somehow that there was still nothing there, nothing to see, nothing even to be heard. Somehow even a terrible sound felt like it would be comforting now.

He made himself start walking again, his pace was back up again, faster, faster, power walking towards a half determined goal of the home that he’d lived in for a good part of his childhood. His breath was too fast, hasty and filling his ears where he would have preferred some hint of sound that would let him know -
Let him know what exactly?

It was too much in the end, his hands were shaking as he lunged towards a door way, trembling fingers finding almost no purchase on the door handle as he twisted it, rattling the door without having fully disengaged the lock mechanism. “C’mon-c’mon!” He said and it finally did. Strange sight he must have been when he found himself back in ‘Regular’ Ashdown. Pale despite his skin tone, shaking hands and leaning against a door, gasping for breath like he’d just escaped an axe murderer rather than a small shop.

As soon as he was through again, he felt terribly silly, the certainty that he'd been followed slipping away to a 'maybe or maybe not' thought lingering in the back of his mind.

Tomorrow. He could try again tomorrow. It was... it was probably nothing, right?