[Cherubmas] Wreathed in Cheer

𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓲𝓻, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓐𝓹𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓭𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓮𝔁𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓲𝓽. As someone who lived and breathed the spring season, the snow brought on dreary moods and aching bones, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep the months away until the flowers began to bloom once more; but as she lay in her nest of pillows, sifting her fingers through the fluttering motes that flitted around her horns, she found that sleep simply wouldn’t come; and certainly not for the elongated length of time she desired. With a huff she pushed herself up, pulling the sheet up over her form as she glanced dejected out of her window.

The snow was falling quietly; it seemed to be in no rush, and it needn’t be; after all, even at its gentle pace, it still had begun to blanket everything in a glistening white, save for the sidewalks and streets where the populace roamed and played. Tying her ears and hair back loosely she pushed herself out of bed, pulling on a loose-fitting garment made of sheer silk, smoothing it over her hips with a sigh.

Her patrons were already nagging her for the commission she accepted, but to be truthful… she hadn’t really started, yet.

Whenever the denizens of the city needed fresh flora, there was only one reputable place they could call on; and that was Dite’s shop. Though it was less of a shop and more of people pestering her to sell pieces of her garden that she’d worked so hard to cultivate…

But, she couldn’t deny the money it brought in - and she’d be remiss to say she didn’t enjoy seeing people’s smiles when they were gifted with the flowers that she herself grew and tended.

It was this resolve that carried her down the stairs and to the front of her home-turned-shopfront, flipping over the ‘OPEN’ sign and unlocking the door. No clients busting in from the beginning, which was nice; she had time to make herself some tea before she set down to work

As her kettle bubbled away, Aphrodite held the parchment in her hand, reading over it again for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Wreaths - an ungodly amount of them - to be made from both normal holly and holy holly, the strange white-variant that the cherubuns brought with them to Burrowgatory. Dite had, of course, found tooth and hoof to acquire the seeds to cultivate her own, but found that growing them in the hellish soils was a trial and a half. She’d finally managed in the end, though her plants were still far too few in number, and juvenile to boot, for an order this large.

Her kettle began whistling just as the small bell by her front door chimed, notifying her of her first patron of the day.

“Just a moment!” She called, her voice a melodic alto that carried through the wooden cottage. Kettle in hand, she brought it up to what served as her front desk, and poured a cup for herself and offered the same for her guest, who declined.

“Just a delivery today, gorgeous!” The delivery bun grinned, sliding her a paper to sign. She graced the parchment with her signature, breathing a sigh of relief over her tea as she saw what the order slip was for; it was the holy holly bundles she’d asked for a week or so back, and the timing couldn’t be more serendipitous. The man blew her a kiss as he exited, leaving Dite to her tea and crates of holly.

She couldn’t help but smile again, this time burying it into her teacup as she indulged. It was a gentle hibiscus blend, a bright pink color that helped bring her just a drop of the springtime she so longed for. Another few sips and she set her cup down, moving to inspect the crates.

She’d had her own bunches of holly waiting on her work bench, just harvested the other day; the leaves were a rich green, a lovely backdrop to the blood-red holly berries that graced each stem. But holy holly was something else entirely; though it bore a resemblance to its evergreen brother, the leaves of this particular specimen shove a brilliant white, and their berries were a lustrous gold; a touch too gaudy for Dite, perhaps, but she could understand the appeal for those who had decided to make Cherubmas their entire personality.

With a giggle to herself, Aphrodite began the task of moving the plants to her work space, taking care to not prick herself with the spiky leaves. Somewhere in the middle of the process, her tiny friend Flora, the hydrangea-topped Inkap, had wriggled its way out of a bowl on her desk to help as best it could; pushing stray berries around the shop, or darting between her bare feet. It was the company of the little imp that brought her joy, despite the mischief the imp caused on a frequent basis.

With the holly prepared, there was aught to do but begin. With another cup of tea poured, Dite set about the task of meticulously weaving the branches together, arranging the leaves over the woodsy stems to ensure maximized color and silhouette for each wreath. To finish, an appropriately colored flash of ribbon and a bow, and hanging in the middle a bell; silver for the normal holly wreaths, and gold for the holy ones. Throughout the day, customers came and left, complimenting her and her work, even going so far as to place orders for more for their own personal dwellings as well. As expected, with each customer who graced her, her joy in sharing her passions only grew; each interaction taking away the gloom of winter and replacing it with the warmth of compassion and joy.