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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! ]
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! ]
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Date: 2024-11-28 02:30 pm (UTC)From:"Maybe because you're a little older?" she reasons, though she's fairly certain Aggie is one of the oldest people in Darrow. She isn't sure what else would make it feel different, though, unless it's something supernatural that only Aggie herself can feel, some sort of premonition she hasn't pinpointed yet.
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Date: 2024-12-03 06:07 am (UTC)From:"The first time it happened, I guess I couldn't believe people would do something like this. Now I know they can and they will."
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Date: 2024-12-03 09:14 pm (UTC)From:"That makes way more sense," she confirms. "I guess I didn't really think about it like that. Expecting an inherent goodness that maybe isn't there, and then having that expectation shaken out of you. Makes it feel worse, right?"
She wonders if Saoirse feels the same way. Saoirse had been young the last time this happened, too young to really understand, probably, that people could and would do bad things. Now, she's older. She's been through a lot of shit — Regan still guiltily remembers the way Saoirse had gotten taken during that impossible summer snowstorm. It's possible that this is harder for her now than it was before because she better knows what people are capable of.
And Regan isn't really checking in on her all that much. Shit.
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Date: 2024-12-10 06:32 am (UTC)From:"I guess that's people being people too."
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Date: 2024-12-10 12:42 pm (UTC)From:"I don't think I thanked you," she says. "For strengthening the wards. So: thank you. I know it makes a lot of us feel better."
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Date: 2024-12-16 06:10 am (UTC)From:"I'd do anything for my family," she adds, nodding at the gathered occupants of the house at large.
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Date: 2024-12-16 12:22 pm (UTC)From:"I'm really glad you're here," she tells Aggie, reaching to place a gentle hand on her arm.