Diligence 5 - Filigree

The insistent buzz of her phone woke Filigree slowly from her rest. Bleary eyed, she opened the case to look at the screen, wincing at the light - but soon her eyes were wide open as she went to answer.

“Primrose? Is something wrong?” she asked.

“The ambrosia we planted is ready to harvest,” he said. “Get here soon.”

Then he hung up, leaving her to stare blankly at the phone for a moment. Get there… soon…?

The first step to getting anywhere was getting out of bed. If she was going to be harvesting plants, she probably didn’t need to shower, she could just put on deodorant and clothes, she decided. For a brief moment, she panicked - nothing to wear here. But no, her gardening clothes were at the Embassy. She could just toss on some clothes and change there.

She should probably buy a second set of gardening clothes, she decided, as she stared into her wardrobe. None of her clothing was really… practical. Everything was well, worn by a pop star who didn’t have to do any work that wasn’t on a stage, a desk, or a conference table. Did she even own casual clothing? Primrose wasn’t exactly a casual sort either, but his clothes were more relaxed than hers, even so…

Eventually, she just shrugged on the least ostentatious dress she had and the only pair of flats in her wardrobe.

She wasn’t going to wake her chauffeur this early, she decided, looping a scarf over her head to try to conceal her horns. She worried less about cameras these days but the worry never quite left her even so… Easier to just cover up the things other buns tended to notice on her.

The walk was alright. It was a chilly morning, though, and she wished she was still in bed for it. It helped wake her up the rest of the way, and she realized she hadn’t even brushed her hair. Mortifying… She’d do it in her office when she changed into gardening clothes.

Primrose was waiting for her there, and he just raised his eyebrows at her outfit. “…you really don’t own anything simple, do you?” he said.

“No…” She sighed as she opened the door. “My manager always said it would be bad for my image…”

“You should consider a new manager,” he said with a sniff of disdain. “Your horns and legs are spectacular enough - they would shine better with simplicity than overcomplicating your outfit and drawing the eye away from them.”

Filigree paused, midway into the office, surprised. “…thank you, Primrose. I can consider that.” She’d never…thought of it like that. Oh sure, her horns and legs were distinctive. The whole of Burrowgatory knew that. But the idea she could dress simpler due to it had never occurred to her. Her whole career was built on being The Most… and maybe that added to her dissatisfaction with it. Would a rebrand be worth the risk? (Of course, she was hardly happy with who she was outside of the Embassy - she’d found happiness here, in helping here, and it kept making the divisions in her life ever more apparent… She’d have to consider this more…)

Primrose waited for her in the hall as she changed, and as soon as she stepped out of the office, he was on his way to the greenhouse.

It was a wonder seeing all of the flowers in bloom, a riot of more colors than she could have imagined, all shining and shimmering in the dawn light. “Oh… it’s so beautiful…”

For once, he had nothing haughty to say, his own voice sounding quite emotional. “It really is… There’s nothing so beautiful as harvest time.”

Filigree wondered if he regretted his choice to fall, even if he had truly only done it to help his brethren. Had he left behind friends, loved ones? She suspected he wouldn’t answer if he asked, though - he didn’t actually talk that much about himself as a person.

After a few minutes just looking, Primrose sighed, and went to the gardening cart. “One day, I’m going to commission another cherubun artist for a painting of the Heavenly Meadow in bloom, to hang in the entry of the Embassy,” he said. “There is nothing more beautiful in this world than the sight of that.” He sighed, taking two pairs of gardening shears from it, and handing one to her, then picked up a bucket. “I’ll show you how to clip them for harvest,” he said. “They’ll be in these buckets of water for a little bit, we’ll process them after we dig up the roots, get them into the compost, and then get mulch on all the beds.”

“Got it,” Filigree said, following him. She had to crouch to see how he cut the stem - how he carefully gripped the flower with one hand, pulling the stem just a little bit, and clipped at an angle.

“The angle is important,” he told her. “It makes it easier for them to keep taking in the water in the buckets, so they’ll stay fresh for processing.”

Filigree nodded, trying her hand at making the cut.

To her surprise, Primrose just nodded approvingly, not even adjusting her hands. “Good. You finish this bed, I’ll take the one over there,” he instructed. “Make sure to separate them into the buckets by the type of flower - ask if you have any uncertainty on that.”

Over the next few hours, they worked, each agonizingly careful with the ambrosia flowers due to their importance.

Filigree’s back and arms ached, but she was determined to do a good job. She didn’t want to risk ruining any flowers. They needed to be perfect, so the ambrosia would be good, after all. If it was just for drinks like the one Hops made, she suspected it wouldn’t matter as much - but because it was also medicine to cherubuns, it mattered a great deal. At least she found the flowers in the beds she harvested were different enough that she knew which buckets they went into, basing it on color and flower shape.

Eventually, the greenhouse was bare, and the buckets full.

“Now, we move these to a storeroom, and then we’ll dig up the beds,” Primrose instructed. “One bucket at a time.” He used a key to open a storeroom on the end of the greenhouse, and then took up one of his buckets.

Slowly, the shelves in the storeroom filled up, as they brought each bucket carefully inside, until at last, they had cleared the greenhouse and Primrose locked the storeroom up again. “It’s cold storage,” he explained. “It helps in keeping them fresh.” He sighed. “We don’t use such a thing in the Meadow, but we have enough numbers for the harvests there that some of us harvest, some of us process, and some carry back and forth between the groups. It’s different here, and the cold storage has been very helpful.”

“That makes sense,” Filigree murmured.

“Now to digging,” Primrose said, quickly moving on. “Nothing really… special for that. There will be bulbs in the roots, so save those, but the rest can go into a bucket for compost.”

That work went quicker - it wasn’t quite as careful. The number of bulbs was surprising to Filigree, though, and she found herself looking at Primrose. “Are the bulbs seeds?” she asked.

“Yes, though they’ll need to be fertilized from the flowers,” he replied. “We’ll do that while we process them, though.” He looked somewhat embarrassed, but added, “Beanny recently brought me a… item from a… business in the city that makes it a faster process.”

Filigree could only wonder why he seemed so embarrassed by saying that, but she supposed she would find out soon.

Soon enough, they were done clearing out the greenhouse’s beds, and Primrose brought her a bucket of compost and a bucket of mulch. “Spread these onto the bed - compost first, then mulch,” he instructed. “We’ll put the gloves into the wash after we finish.”

The compost was certainly not a pleasant smell, but Filigree managed with it, spreading it into the dug up beds. “What do these do?” she asked.

“They help put nutrients back into the soil,” he explained. “Without them, there’d be little for the flowers to eat and grow with, and they would be lesser quality.”

Silence reigned again until they finished, and at last, Primrose sighed. “Let’s put our gloves into the wash and get some food,” he said, stretching. “Beanny told me she would bring us lunch and coffee, so we can go get that, and then we’ll get to the processing.”

“Sounds good,” Filigree agreed, following him back into the Embassy. She couldn’t believe they weren’t even done for the day, but… well, at least they would have lunch first.