tedandroses: (looking down)
Teddy ([personal profile] tedandroses) wrote in [community profile] abraxaslogs 2024-07-26 01:41 am (UTC)

Teddy's been letting the children, dutifully, teach them how to weave garlands for the pyre, and in turn -- when they seem a little too restless or a little too sad to keep at it -- sharing stories or little games about those wildflowers and plants that overlap with their own world.

He'd poked his head into the kitchen just to be sure they're not struggling: it's not Teddy's strongest suit, but he can follow a recipe or instructions and lend a hand, and it's familiar. When someone's laid up or passes on, you make food; a family has enough to do without making decisions about food at a time like that, and bustling over the top of complicated loss and acceptance is a thing Teddy recognizes.

There are already too many people with their hands busy, though, and they're quietly a little relieved that whatever Abraxas' version of Things In A Casserole Dish (probably: things in something not terribly unlike a casserole dish), it's not going to involve them. Teddy has the last-minute forethought to hunt down an ink drawing of Winifred's arcana and Vagn's sigil so that they can carve it into the wood, and starts off toward the forest to catch up with some of the others.

It's quiet, and cooler, as forests are, and she walks quietly to let herself listen to the birds, to the crunch and crackle of twigs and the whistle of the breeze. Teddy can tell Achilles is lost in thought as well when she spots him not far ahead at a fork in the trail, and she clears her throat a little. Probably unwise to startle someone holding an axe.


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