[Seasonal Event] What Must Be Done

Emmett There's always more to do, Good thing I want to do it Phoebe laid out what they would do (for which he was immensely grateful, feeling like everything was too hard to pull out into a line right now) and Emmett nodded, setting about to do it. He started in the kitchen, taking pots and pans he had a particular memory of (which were still usable, not drenched in blood), his mother's recipe book. He ran his fingers over the notches on the back door used to mark each child's growing height - there was no saving it. He took cushions and toys, throws and wall hangings. The things that gave his home personality and made it more than just walls. From the upstairs he took his own bedding (which smelt...interesting, at the moment) and some of his own clothes, which had been laying untouched in the chaos of the last weeks. Drawings from his siblings, his older brother's coat, his father's razor. When he had finished he had a cart of an odd assortment of items and the house was in many spots bare; but all that he had chosen mostly fit in the vegetable cart. The front half was to keep, the back to sell or destroy. Looking down at it, he thought it felt so odd to be making such a judgement about something that had been a regular part of life not long ago. He could almost hear his siblings yelling: 'But that's mine!' He gave the house one last look, then turned to Phoebe with a weak smile. "Thanks, Bee. I'll...come back and sort out the burnin' later." It seemed somehow cruel to do both the taking and burning at once, as if too much at once would hurt his no longer there family. Walking away, he took the handkerchief he'd offered to Phoebe from his pocket and dabbed at his eyes, tears threatening to blur the way to his new home.