this work is all of me

The light and greenery of the greenhouse gives way to a quiet flagstone path, leading to one of the building’s side entries. Sable watches Primrose’s slender back as he guides her to the door, his shoulders drawn to perfect posture. “My ambrosia workshop isn’t far from here,” he says without preamble. “You’ve likely seen it in passing before. It’s a storage shed; we keep larger gardening equipment in there, but there’s an attached room for my workshop.”

Sable nods, then pauses when she realizes he can’t see her. “Um— yes, sounds good…” she mumbles. She doesn’t know why he’s even telling her this, maybe to fill the silence..?

Primrose opens the door for her, allowing unfiltered sunlight to trail happily along the flagstones, the nearby shadows growing darker for lack of it. Sable squints a little, but her eyes adjust as she follows Primrose into the cool morning air. Churro trots at her heels as always, doing a few happy wiggles at the . Primrose leads them to the aforementioned garden shed— a building both larger and sturdier-looking than Sable expected— and opens the door for her, flicking the lights on in the same motion. 

The room is lined with various gardening equipment and power tools ranging from alien to vaguely familiar, though she wouldn’t be able to name any of them if her life depended on it. Primrose brushes past them and into the next room, Sable following his lead. 

“Here we are,” Primrose says, rolling up his sleeves as he walks over to the sink. “We’ll wash our hands, then start grinding the dried leaves with the mortars and pestles in the cabinet up and to the left of the sink.”

Sable hurries to grab the mortars and pestles he’d mentioned, setting them down on the worktable at the center of the room. She switches places with Primrose to wash her own hands as he gathers the leaves that were left to dry overnight. But before she can finish, Churro paws at her leg, letting out a few soft arfs. When she turns to look at him, he sits down, looking back at her expectantly. “Uh… Churro..?”

“Why is your Pampki making a fuss?” Primrose asks with a huff, sounding irritated.

“I dunno, usually he— wait, what time is it?”

“About 10:30am, I believe. What does that have to do with anything?”

Sable gasps, and starts rifling through her purse. “Oh good boy Churro, I can’t remember the last time I forgot to take these,” she coos, making him wiggle excitedly. She fishes out her anxiety meds, then takes them with a mouthful of water from the bottle nestled next to it. She puts them back where they belong, gives Churro a few scritches, then starts washing her hands again. “Sorry for the interruption Primrose, but— can’t exactly put it off.”

Primrose doesn’t respond, and when Sable finishes drying her hands she turns to find him watching her thoughtfully. “Um… Primrose?”

“Does he… do that sort of thing for you all the time?” he asks after a hesitant pause, sounding curious. 

Sable blinks. “Um, yes? He’s been trained by the service imp program I got him from to do that and— well, a lot more.”

Primrose hums, pursing his lips in thought. “I… see. I honestly didn’t know imps could be trained for such things— I was under the impression he was a seizure alert imp or something of the sort.”

Sable smiles at him, walking over with Churro at her side. “Oh, well— no, he’s for anxiety. Anxiety assistance imps aren’t as common, but…”

Primrose hums again, and shifts, an unreadable expression on his face. When he speaks again, it’s somewhat stilted. “I’m… very glad he helps you. In that case.”

“Um… well, thank you Primrose…” Sable says, burrowing her brow at him. “Can I… ask if something’s wrong?”

Primrose clears his throat, straightens his spine despite his posture never faltering. “It’s nothing, Sable, I am just… grateful for your assistance.”

Sable’s face grows warm, and she ducks her head. “Oh! Well, of course Primrose. I’ve helped you this long, haven’t I?”

“Indeed.”

A long, awkward silence stretches out between them, and seems eager to crawl down Sable’s throat and make her say something stupid to break it. Primrose beats her to it, thankfully, a rare smile on his lips. “Here, follow my lead, Sable. There’s a specific method to grinding the leaves— they have to be pulverized enough to be mostly powdered, but still have some larger particles, hm?”

Sable nods, and grabs the pestle of the unoccupied mortar. Primrose already put the dried leaves in both of them at some point, so she just follows his lead. Despite his warning, the process is straightforward, even somewhat therapeutic— Sable gets a little lost in it. She jumps slightly when Primrose waves a hand in front of her face to get her attention, and when her eyes fly over to him his expression is amused.

“Apologies, I was trying to get your attention, but you were spacing out…”

Sable feels her face flush— and thank the demons her dark skin hides it. “Sorry! I was just… well, um—”

“It’s fine Sable,” Primrose says with a laugh, his tone almost… fond— and doesn’t that just make Sable’s face feel hotter. “It’s simply time for the next step. We’ll be letting the powdered leaves sit for a little while— we need to start draining fluid from the roots for my transformative ambrosias.”

Sable nods. “How… do you make those, anyway?” she asks, side eyeing him with a hopeful expression.

Primrose smirks. “Trade secret, I’m afraid.”

Sable sighs playfully. “Worth a try,” she says, giggling. “How do you get the… fluid out, anyway?”

“It’s a bit of a process,” Primrose says, coming over to where the roots rest on a cutting board. “We’ll be pulping the roots themselves— the pulp is useful for another stage of the process— then straining out the pulp to get the fluid by itself. That distiller over there needs this as free of debris as we can manage.”

Sable glances over at the contraption perched on the edge of the counter, and nods. “Okay… what do you need me to do?”

“I’ll pulp the roots, and when the bowl is done I’ll hand it to you so you can strain it with the colander. Do it as many times as you can until the liquid is clear instead of cloudy— while you’re doing that, I’ll be setting the leaves to brew.”

“Okay!!” Sable says, her smile brightening. “I never knew this process was so complex, it’s so cool…”

Primrose grins at her. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Wait till the brewing leaves begin changing colors— that’s always quite the show.”