[Diligence 1] A Few Missteps

It had been months since the place atop the clouds had appeared. Months since its arrival saw the subsequent entrance of dozens of quaint little buns tumbling from the sky. And for months, Venetia had kept her eyes rooted to the ground.
Curiosity was a dangerous game and Venetia was determined not to fall into its trap. See, she had always prided herself on being the best at, well, everything. She was perfectly satisfied with herself, her morals and her vices. But, with these new buns around; these righteous, pious- hell- sanctimonious, little creatures; Venetia was unnerved, to say the very least.
She was nervous that the coming of these new heavenly neighbours brought a whole new set of standards that she wasn’t sure she would be able to live up to.
And Venetia would have been content to continue life with her nose to the floor. But, there it was again: curiosity, here to rear its ugly head. Word travels, even to those desperate not to hear it. Burrowgatory was inundated with news of these fascinating newcomers: Their food, their culture, their general effervescence, and, “Oh, you absolutely must visit the gardens when you get the chance,” were the words which had invaded every polite conversation Venetia had attempted in recent memory.
Venetia, whilst keen to avoid confronting that which made her uncomfortable in the hopes that they would resolve themselves, was still, at heart, a resounding snob. The idea of falling behind the trends and not heeding the recommendations of her equally snobbish friends was considerably more dire than her burgeoning insecurities.
So, that is how this starlet found herself atop the lush sky gardens of the Heavenly Embassy.

~~~

Word of the garden’s beauty was not exaggerated. She internally berated herself for allowing her childish fears to keep her from such sights. Of course, she found her own native Burrowgatory uniquely stunning, but the delights that were kept up here were truly mesmerising. The shimmer of those alien flowers grew into a sort of fog that collected around Venetia’s feet. She likened their aura to that of hazeblooms, but she was almost certain whatever effect these plants had were far different.
With eyes glued to her beautiful surroundings, her feet carried her forwards before her brain had chance to catch up. She had ventured further into the reaches of the garden than she realised. A particularly ornate greenhouse had caught her attention.
Stumbling through, almost on auto-pilot, her eyes could not be pulled from the shining flowers.
Her foot hovered over a flower bed, just a step away from disaster, when a shrill cry broke her from her trance.

“STOP!!!” The voice shook her from behind. “You absentminded fool! Do you know how precious these crops are? The amount of time and care you nearly wasted?” The stranger was incredibly flustered, fighting for breath, yet he continued, “No, I don’t suppose you do. I wouldn’t expect your type to understand the meaning.”

Venetia had stumbled back at the admonishment, safely away from the budding flowers. She stood firmly in place, scared to place another foot wrong. She barely stuttered out some semblance of an apology, choosing to ignore the slight he had made about her ‘type’. But, she found herself captured by the sight of the man who chastised her. It was only then, when her eyes landed on the tall figure, had she realised that this was the first time she had actually seen a cherebun. She had foolishly thought that the various tales she had heard of them were enough, but nothing could truly prepare her for actually meeting one.
He was beautiful. Not in any amorous way, though she supposed that were also true. But there was something indescribable about his presence. He was ineffable. What she later learned to be a halo, was almost hypnotising to her. Its glow was unlike any neon sign or flashing casino lights. It felt warm and inviting- though it was harder to say the same about its owner.

“This- THIS is exactly why I requested a closed garden!” The strange man appeared not to even be addressing Venetia at this point, rather ranting to the air around him as if a group had been gathered solely for him to say ‘I told you so’. “This isn’t some funfair you can trample around for a few hours to kill time. Is nothing sacred?”

“Sa-cred?” She mimicked, rolling the foreign word in her mouth. Realising her dumbfounded expression was not the first impression she wanted to make, Venetia made every attempt to drag the conversation into her favour. “Well, I must say that perhaps such important plants should have some sort of warning around them, perhaps a raised bed. A stray imp could have just as easily wandered across the fields and wrecked serious damage.” She twisted her pearl necklace between her fingers as she spoke. “I certainly don’t leave my valuables lying around for just anyone to stumble upon.” She uttered that last part with a righteous indignation that she hoped could match and even surpass her heavenly friend.

The man took a moment to answer, but Venetia was under no illusion that she had bested him. He soon retorted, “That is the exact kind of arrogance I would expect from the likes of you! The complete ignorance of someone who has never worked for anything real, just hedonistic contentment!”
Venetia took genuine offence at this. She was proud of her achievements, she had worked far harder than most to get where she was in her career, her life. “How dare you presume to know anything about me! Coming here was a mistake after all. You really are the sanctimonious shits I thought you were!” She attempted to storm out, but, absurdly, the stranger’s voice halted her.

“So prove it!”

Venetia looked back at the man, eyebrow raised in contest.

“Let me teach you how to tend to this garden,” the cherebun continued. “Perhaps you’ll learn something about the diligence required to keep this place.”

Venetia was taken aback, but she could not bring herself to leave.

~~~

And so, that is how Venetia found herself somewhere she had never been: on her knees, in the soil, getting her hands dirty.

“I suppose if we are to be working together, we should at least become acquainted.” He stuck out his stained glove for her to shake, “I’m Primrose.”

She hesitated, but under the gaze of this man, she could not hold herself back from taking his hand. Venetia did believe she had met her match in this neurotic, uptight statue of a man. “Venetia. Venetia Sparks. I would say you might’ve heard of me, but then, I suppose films aren’t really your thing.” She quirked her head in slight antagonism, but Primrose ignored the attempt.
He seemed uniquely at home knee deep in a flower bed. Venetia watched in awe as his hands flourished, dragging open a new channel for his sprinkled seeds to lie in. She watched him work in wordless wonder, and, when he turned to her, she begrudgingly knew it was her turn. She took her position and tried her best to emulate Primrose’s swift movements. Venetia’s attempts certainly lacked some of the grace of her demonstrator, but she completed the job to some degree of satisfaction.
And that is how they worked, rinsing and repeating across the whole greenhouse. Venetia found herself oddly fascinated by Primrose’s many interruptions with facts and trivia about the varied flora of the Heavenly Meadow.

Exhausted, the pair sat back on their heels and surveyed their hard work. “Well Prim,“ Primrose shot Venetia a warning glare as the nickname left her mouth, “I have to say…” Both buns sat in anticipation of what the closing statement of this lesson would be. “Thank you.” The words came softly but sincerely.

“Well, you were a surprisingly apt pupil,” Primrose replied. They both rose to their feet, Venetia roughly brushing her knees. Primrose paused in contemplative thought, as Venetia had noted he did quite often, before suggesting, “You know, if you would like to continue our little teaching moment, there is something else you could do for me…”