Reaping Rewards

The door inside the greenhouse led to a room Valentine had never seen before, a small kitchen etched into the space and filled with natural light and walls of books and cabinets. Pots lined shelves in a neat fashion, stacked within each other and lined up in an even display that had the appearance of being copied and pasted. The space was neat, tidy and empty of any semblance of activity that a kitchen might normally have. It reminded Valentine of the room that Dan used, though even it had ghosts of flour hiding in crevices and grains of rice crushed on the tiles. The kitchen Primrose utilized had not even a hint of what was processed here; no stray ingredients in sight. The gold and white of the room would have almost seemed an odd choice for a kitchen with its too-easy-to-stain colors if not for the owner who wandered it now, so characteristically neat that his hard work left almost no traces in his studio. 

Dove slipped in behind Valentine, the indication of it a gentle click as they slid the door back into place. She glanced over her shoulder at the cherubun, swallowing as she felt a lump tighten in her throat. There was an odd feeling she couldn’t quite brush away of being an intruder - the inkling of knowledge that she wasn’t meant to be here tugging at her chest. She was certain this area was typically off-limits for succubun tourists; after all, no one had ever mentioned visiting such a room when they’d ventured here to look at the flowers. The room itself felt sacred in a way most of the embassy did; though she couldn’t help but feel as though it was even more, in a way. It lacked the ‘taint’ that succubuns brought - a tiny haven Primrose kept away from them. And yet, here she was. Invited into it and allowed to permeate the place with her presence. Perhaps it was the sleep-deprivation talking - Valentine attempted to push the thoughts from her mind as Primrose himself spoke up, his tone dripping in importance.

“You may very well be aware of this by now, as I hope you are, but this task will be your most important one yet. It is one of which the importance can not be overstated; this, much like every other step in cultivating these flowers, is one that we cherubuns are dependent on. I will lead you, as will Dove, for this will be a daunting and delicate process. You must stay focused on the task at hand; no distractions and no idle hands. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Valentine choked out in response, feeling a twist in her stomach at the graveness Primrose spoke with. There was no mistaking it for a joke or meager suggestion, his intentions more than laid out in full. Even the nod he gave at her affirmation was stiff, and when he turned Valentine could see just how frigid his movements were. Even when he made to wash his hands, Valentine could see that he moved with undoubtable purpose. A touch on her shoulder made her jump, though a turn of the head was all she needed to see Dove, smiling, composed and relaxed.

“I’m sure you’ll do great! Once you get the hang of it, it’s very easy work.” Dove’s voice was quiet and calm, bearing none of the tenseness Primrose had in his words. Valentine allowed a bit of stress to wash off of her in waves, returning their grin with one of her own.

“Thank you, Dove. I’ll do my best.”

Once her hands were washed and she’d slipped on a pair of gloves Primrose had laid next to the sink for her, Valentine found her place between Dove and Primrose in front of the basket of flowers they’d harvested. Primrose set a bowl on the table before it, retrieving tiny blades from a drawer and presenting them to the other dolls. They were sharp, their white handles carved with golden flowers. Valentine took hers with caution, blinking away exhaustion to make way for urgency.

“These knives will be used to make cuts along the stems; this will allow the extraction of the sap. This must be done with caution - if even so much as a drop of your blood joins the sap, the entire batch will be completely unsalvageable. I implore you to watch what you’re doing with that knife,” Primrose spoke almost entirely at her rather than to her and Dove, his eyes pointedly on the blade in her hands. He took his own into position after he had finished, procuring a flower and cutting a single, clean line down the stem once it was positioned over the bowl. Valentine watched as a glowing substance oozed from the green, dripping down into the bowl in tiny luminescent puddles. 

Once Primrose gestured for her to do so, Valentine took her own flower in hand and held it over the bowl. Her hand with the knife shook as she leveled it to the stem, fingers pinching the green between them for an easier cut. She saw in her mind’s eye an image of them dripping crimson, instantly draining the vibrant sap of its light and dulling whatever power it held. How many cherubuns would suffer if she ruined this batch? She had no way of knowing, only an estimate that pessimistically tread into the hundreds. Her eyes found Dove, their smile gentle and encouraging and their hand on her shoulder much of the same. She dared not to look towards Primrose, knowing his grave expression would be no comfort in her mission. She inhaled before she tore into the stem, biting her lip as she drew it down in a tentative straight line. The cut was shallow from the lack of pressure, the sap peeking out minimal and unimpressive. She moved it to a nearby cutting board, careful to keep the sap upright to prevent waste. Her cut was cleaner this time, exposing more radiance that she quickly escorted to the bowl. Her fingers, unpricked, held it tightly with trembling might. She hadn’t ruined it.

The rest of the stems were easier to cut as Valentine grew more confident in her methods, and it wasn’t long before the three dolls had established a hearty bowl of sap. Primrose deposited it into a pot to boil, ushering them to the text step after an approving nod.

“The next step would be to dry these leaves and brew them, which won’t be possible to accomplish within this day. I will take care of that. The next - and final step, as I will also be in charge of dealing with the nectar - will be to handle the petals. This will be a simpler process - they’ll be crushed with a mortar, and the pulp that is leftover will be mixed with sugar and water to make recreational beverages. While these are, admittedly, not as crucial as the parts used for medicine, they are provided to us to be enjoyed. A delicacy to be enjoyed in moderation, not in indulgence, for a life of fulfillment. It would do any succubun good to learn about such a thing.” Valentine could see Dove frown as Primrose spoke, though she preferred not to comment on it herself. It was better not to test her luck - especially considering he was doing her a favor by allowing her to be part of such an important process in the first place.

Crushing the petals was much easier work than cutting the stems, a simple process that barely required much effort. It was almost relaxing work, the lack of strength needed allowing a much needed break from the stress of other, more demanding tasks. Valentine could feel the heaviness in her eyelids grow more noticeable with each quiet moment spent, the other dolls with her working in a similar silence. The movement of her pestle seemed hypnotic, the rhythm consistent and easy to maintain. Valentine found herself fighting the urge to close her eyes, pinching her skin constantly and imagining the smell of coffee to stave off sleep. It was the most she could do to make it to the next part of the process, her own crushed leaves joining the others in a mixing bowl of water and sugar. Mixing the three ingredients was barely stressful, still offering peace that made her earlier tension feel completely unnecessary. Even Primrose seemed less tense, approving her final mixture with an easy nod and a faint smile.

“Well done. I suppose.. That will be all. The other steps will be up to me, and all of our work will go towards stocking the embassy,” there was a pause where his eyes locked onto Valentine, his lips pressed firmly together while he seemingly struggled to find the words, “Dove… Valentine… I’m grateful that the two of you showed true consistency with this project of yours. Your work proved more than sufficient… Thank you for showing true interest in a good worth ethic. Your diligence will serve you well. Those who sow exceptional seeds will read exceptional rewards. It was a pleasure working with you.” 

Valentine smiled, her hand finding Dove’s and squeezing it for encouragement. After a moment of consideration, Primrose lifted his own hand, extending it towards Valentine with an almost invisible smile. She took it gently, shaking it as the two locked eyes. There was none of the usual animosity in Primrose’s expression, an uncharacteristic look of respect left in its wake. Valentine couldn’t recall ever seeing anything of the sort from him before, the moment a once-in-a-lifetime photograph for the album of her mind. 

“Thank you, Primrose. It was nice getting to work with you. Maybe this won’t be the last time.”

“Perhaps it won’t be.”