Work Text:
She wondered, sometimes, what it would be like to not be a prophet.
What it would be like to live a life without foreknowing her own death. To spend a day seeing only events of that day. To make herself clothing without knowing what that clothing would be used for in the future.
Ah, well.
For better or worse, she was a prophet. And just because she knew the ending didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the in-between.
Whistling, Agnes Nutter set to work hemming the coat that would one day help conceal several dozen pounds of gunpowder and roofing nails.