andhiswife: (downcast - on the go)
Greta spends most of the morning in the kitchen.

Sort of absurd, really, given the preparations being made across the city. But they've been working on the cottage for weeks, now — fortifying both magical and physical deterrents, getting Aggie's animals settled and comfortable, stocking up on whatever they might need based on every miserable eventuality she could envision — and it's belatedly occurred to her that if all goes according to plan, what she'll mostly be doing is just... hosting. She's told everyone she can think of that the cottage should be a safe harbor, and while she doesn't expect all of them to come by, or to stay for the whole evening, she imagines the ones that do might be wanting more than just a brief rest and some first aid.

So she bakes, wanting to get it done early enough that the wind will have time to dispel any tempting scents well before the siren sounds. Wanting to give herself something to do besides wringing her hands, or checking and re-checking everything like a madwoman, or lecturing Saoirse about the importance of not doing anything foolish.

Later, as people begin to arrive, she focuses on making sure they're comfortable (or as comfortable as circumstances allow). There's a large pot of soup on the stove and fresh-baked goods for anyone who's managed to keep their appetite, and plenty of tea in the cupboard. By the time 6PM rolls around, she's half-tempted to bring out something stronger, for all that this seems like a terrible time to impair her own judgment. The heavier stuff can wait, she decides, until they've all made it through this, ideally unscathed.

When the siren sounds, she's standing on her front stoop, brow furrowed at the city skyline, windows tightly shuttered behind her and arms folded tightly across her chest. What a stupid bloody excuse for a holiday.


[ A gathering post for anyone who might be riding out the Purge at the cottage, either temporarily or for the whole evening. If Greta knows your pup, it's a safe bet you've been invited or otherwise made aware, but anyone without evil intentions should be able to safely bypass Magnus' wards and make it onto the property for a respite. Open forever! ]

Date: 2024-11-01 07:50 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] ghost_holder
ghost_holder: (Doubt)
The siren sounds and Aggie wishes it sounds more distant, as if it were something that happened only after crossing properly into the city. Instead, it's loud and clear in the skies above her here too. Someone's on the porch still, whether to get one last gasp of fresh air or arriving at the very cusp of safety, but theirs looks to be a familiar face rather than a threatening stranger.

"You should come inside now," Aggie says, even though she's only a few feet away, dithering right at the threshold. Greta's nervous energy probably found no calm harbors with Aggie, who spent all of the daylight hours pacing the property line and going over every bit of magic with a fine-toothed comb. It's as safe as she can make it and Aggie knows there's very little else she can realistically do, but she's still fighting with the pent up energy that she's been unable to siphon off.

And now, here she is, standing at Greta's door and telling someone to get inside as if Aggie's the grown up. It's not as if the front door will change everything else, nor are people practically at their doors with pitchforks by any means. It just feels especially vulnerable out here, somehow.
Edited Date: 2024-11-02 06:28 am (UTC)

Date: 2024-11-27 07:31 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] ghost_holder
ghost_holder: (Witch Storm)
"I keep waiting for the sky to turn red or for lightning to strike. Except, well, that'd just be a sign that I'm here." Not that she remembers the last time she did that particularly well. Aggie hadn't quite come unmoored that night but it had been close. Hopefully, she won't have any reason to even start in that direction tonight.

She doesn't dare hope that it'll be boring, because to verbalize the thought is to tempt fate.

Date: 2024-12-16 06:25 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] ghost_holder
ghost_holder: (Default)
"I'd like to think that," she agrees. Most of the powered types who arrive in Darrow seem to be mostly peaceable, or at least willing to restrain themselves in the face of having nowhere else to go. On dark nights, it occurs to her to worry about what might happen if a day ever comes that someone with a less retiring nature ends up here. Those nights usually end with her drifting off to sleep with the vow that she'll do whatever it takes to keep people safe, the same as she's trying to now.

Aggie takes Greta's hand and lets them both retreat further into the safety of the house. "The wards should hold." She wants to say that they will hold, but tonight doesn't feel like the night for stubborn, blind optimism. Not when, only a few miles away, she has every reason not to feel optimistic about people at all.

Date: 2024-12-31 04:31 pm (UTC)From: [personal profile] ghost_holder
ghost_holder: (Default)
"I'm not planning to sleep at all," she admits. It's easy to follow Greta, especially into her kitchen, which has always been closely linked to safety in her mind. The kitchen, and all that comes from it, feels like an extension of Greta herself, with all the safety and stability that it entails.

"Tea would be great."

Date: 2025-01-16 04:54 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] ghost_holder
ghost_holder: (Default)
Aggie takes the mug in both hands and tips her head down to breathe in the steam and, for a moment, the world shrinks down to the scent of black tea with bergamot. For the space of one inhale and exhale, everything is normal and this is a night like any other. The feeling doesn't last but Aggie can still hang on to that brief anchor.

"At least it's not raining," she agrees soberly before looking skyward, like some higher power will take a hint and start up on the thunder.

Date: 2025-01-19 05:30 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] ghost_holder
ghost_holder: (Default)
"It was worth a try," she agrees, risking a little smile. Of course it would be too easy. Besides, knowing Darrow, it'd take her little temptation of fate and turn it into a way to strike a loved one with lightning or some other monkey's paw logic.

"I did make it storm once. Here and, well, before. But I wasn't really...in control of myself." Tonight is not the night to recreate such events.

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andhiswife: (Default)
The Baker's Wife

October 2024

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