andhiswife: (tired)
Greta hasn't been back to Cabeswater since she spoke to Jesse, and she's been avoiding the rest of the woods as well. There hadn't been much point to venturing out there, really -- and certainly no comfort to be had.

But she's heard some rumors of a strange cottage, and decided she needed to see it for herself. She doesn't think it'll prove to be anything from home. One heard stories there, as well, but she'd never actually seen such a thing, or spoken to anyone who claimed to. Such tales tended to filter into the Village thrice-removed, at least. Not so outlandish as to be unbelievable, but fantastic enough that you'd be forgiven for doubting some of the details.

And there are details ripe for doubting. She knows gingerbread, and she'd be the last person to suggest building an entire cottage out of it. A tiny one, perhaps, no bigger than a dollhouse. But she has a fair number of kitchen disasters under her belt, and she's yet to pull anything out of an oven that could function as well as a brick, even if it might pass for one at a glance (or, if she's being brutally honest, at a taste).

So she tromps into the forest -- the reassuringly unmagical one -- and she doesn't have to wander too far before she comes across it: a candy cottage, as advertised. She doesn't approach it, but her shoulders do slump a little. She should probably make sure Simon and Baz know about this. Goodness knows they don't need any of the children stumbling across it.

Date: 2017-06-25 11:24 pm (UTC)From: [personal profile] ghost_holder
ghost_holder: (Default)
Aggie has been described as precocious more than a few times in her life but she's not stupid. Since the gingerbread house arrived, she's gone exploring through the woods but has yet to come particularly close. The temptation of candy is a lot easier to ignore as a teenager, even if the temptation of her own curiosity keeps telling her to range forward.

She has her book of tales in her backpack today, though Aggie has to admit she's not sure what it'll accomplish. She's still nervous to read from that book, at times, so maybe it's even worse to bring it so close to something so obviously magical, but she finds herself hoping that maybe one of her stories will have an answer.

Hearing someone else's footsteps, Aggie turns and waves to Greta. "Well this definitely doesn't look suspicious, right?"

Date: 2017-06-26 02:01 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] ghost_holder
ghost_holder: (Formal)
"If there is, I haven't gotten close enough to look," Aggie admits. When Greta comes to her side, Aggie leans over for an impulsive side hug. For all that the cottage looks cheery, it unnerves her and Aggie thinks they could both use the reassurance.

"Think there's a witch or something? That's what happens in fairytales, right?" Maybe just one, but one story is red flag enough as far as she's concerned.

Date: 2017-06-26 06:53 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] ghost_holder
ghost_holder: (Default)
"They do," Aggie says. It seems obvious when put like that, though as a witch herself, Aggie's relationship with food is mostly whether or not it will taste good for dinner than if she's going to curse someone with it. Well, except for that one time that Flavia upended milk on a bully, but Aggie hadn't asked for that even if she enjoyed it immensely.

Glancing around behind them, Aggie finds a log a good dozen feet further back from the house but still well in view. She nods at Greta before seating herself on it and opening her backpack, taking out her storybook as well as some sandwiches wrapped in wax paper. "Want one? It's just peanut butter and bacon. No curses involved."

Date: 2017-06-28 08:11 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] ghost_holder
ghost_holder: (Default)
"Peanut butter and bacon," Aggie says, doing her best to sound sage. "Either you like it and you make a friend for life or they think you're crazy and you don't have to share." She still holds one out to Greta, taking a big bite of her own and frowning at the book. Though she doesn't necessarily have much reverence for it, it's still a three hundred year old book and she doesn't want to get peanut butter on it.

With a squint and a nod of her head, the book floats in front of them, buoyed on a faint stream of green energy that always accompanies her powers. "This was mine, from home. I...don't actually like reading it and I really don't want any of it read out loud, but it seemed like something to bring." She doesn't know if it's to do with her family, which clearly had more magic users than just her, or the book itself, but she's not going to risk it.

Date: 2017-06-30 05:21 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] ghost_holder
ghost_holder: (Default)
"I used to think so too," Aggie says, managing to actually be wistful about it for once. In the end, she knows that the book itself isn't the source of her suffering. There had been a time when the reading of the book had been a tribute, a statement of love but family lore changes with the passage of time.

"Yeah, just be careful. It's old." She glances significantly at Greta's hands, still clean, and then gestures for her to take it. "Like I said, just...don't read out loud from it."

They're not standing at the tree that marks her grave and she's been awake for a long time, becoming slightly more alive as she grows, but that book once decided her fate every year. Not again.

Date: 2017-07-02 05:19 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] ghost_holder
ghost_holder: (Default)
"Maybe? Kind of? I don't know," Aggie says, clearly less certain with each phrasing. "They used to read the stories every year at my grave and it would send me back to sleep, kept me from waking up." Maybe, once, the ritual had been one of good intentions but over time all it had done was maker her angrier and angrier, less herself until there was nothing left but hate.

"I don't know if it was their magic or the book or what. But I don't want to sleep for years, not again."

Date: 2017-07-03 04:51 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] ghost_holder
ghost_holder: (Default)
Aggie would say she's too old for that kind of thing, but there's no real denying how comforting the little touch is. Her hair falls down past her waist still and she can feel the shift as Greta tucks it back. For a second, the woods seem to quiet as she lets the world focus simply on the warmth between two people who care very much. The family she's found here in Darrow is the thing she fears losing most and why she's so cautious about that book, even now.

"Even if it wasn't in a book of fairy tales, you can't convince me that something's not seriously off about this situation," she says, face screwed up in suspicion. "Random candy house appearing? In Darrow?" No way. No one could possibly be that stupid.

"Doesn't even need a red flag on the roof."

Date: 2017-07-06 09:06 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] ghost_holder
ghost_holder: (Default)
"In this place? With these people?" she asks. "Of course someone has." Even with all the red flags, she knows plenty of people curious, daring, or foolhardy enough to decide the hell with it and look anyway. She makes a note to herself to discourage Krem and his boss, for instance. Dorian too, maybe. Probably.

"And I know people who'd go in and try to make sure no one's getting made into stew either."

She looks forward at the house, clearly debating her levels of altruism.

Date: 2017-07-10 04:38 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] ghost_holder
ghost_holder: (Default)
"We could," Aggie says doubtfully. In her four years of living in Darrow, nothing has ever been quite that straightforward but it's no reason to avoid the obvious solution if it can be tried. First though, she finishes her sandwich. If there's something evil in that cottage, she's not losing good food to it.

Balling up the waxed paper and stuffing it into her backpack, she looks to Greta. "Ready?"

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andhiswife: (Default)
The Baker's Wife

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