Pursuit of Diligence: Part 6

“Are you ready for this?” Primrose’s voice was stern but polite, his gaze fixed intently on Harrow.

“Yes. All of the flowers are dried, and prepped to be made into ambrosia,” Harrow replied, tilting his head at the assortment of beakers, vials, and glass containers spread out on the counter before them. The room behind them was filled with the flowers that they’d grown throughout the weeks, but they weren’t ready to be picked yet; the flowers he’d prepared were all dried in a basket sitting at the end of the table, stems cut and flowers ready to be ground into dust for the mixture.

Tugging his gloves on tighter, Harrow flexed his fingers and got to work, carefully picking up a few of the same color flowers and dropping them gently into the mortar.

“Wrong,” Primrose stated softly, moving to pick some flowers out, putting them back into the basket. “You need one of each color. Each flower has different properties, and have to be combined for a harmonic flavor.”

“Interesting,” Harrow commented, tilting his head curiously as he tapped the table with a gloved claw. “Does that also pertain to seasonal ambrosia?”

“Yes and no,” Primrose said, the slightest of smiles making the corners of his lips twitch. “Right now, we’re working on regular ambrosia. If I like your work enough, I’ll show you how to make the seasonal one. Deal?”

“Deal,” Harrow replied happily, moving to pick a flower from each color, placing each gently in the mortar. He glanced at Primrose who gave a nod of approval, then took the pestle and began grinding in an expert manner.

Harrow was used to this sort of work; he’d brewed his own potions at home, and the process was familiar enough that he could liken it to something he already did in his regular line of work. As he grinded down the petals of the flowers, he smiled behind his mask as the colors blended together into a fine soft powder of blue and white, almost glistening in the light of the room.

“Ah,” said Harrow, admiration in his voice as he stared at the mixture he’d just created. “It looks beautiful.” And it made sense, of course. Cherubuns were known for their virtues, so making sure the ambrosia had a harmonic balance made perfect sense to the plague doctor bun.

“The next step… the distilled water we’ve harvested before,” Primrose said, leaving to grab a large bottle of clear, sparkling liquid. He returned to set it on the table, and Harrow tilted his head quizzically as the light caught the particles in the water, making them rise to the top.

“Combining the ground up flowers with the purified water, we’ll distill these to get the correct amount of potency for the ambrosia.” Primrose tapped the side of the bottle, then jerked his chin at the various sizes of bottles scattered across the table.

“So turning the liquid… into a gas… and then turning the gas back into a liquid again?” Harrow asked, wanting to make absolutely sure that none of this was going to waste. Distilling, he could do. He was used to that from making his own potions and drinks.

“Precisely.” Primrose seemed almost surprised at Harrow’s question, but masked his expression to one of neutrality for the sake of professionalism.

“That, I can manage.” Harrow began to reach forward, then stopped, looking to Primrose. “I don’t want to assume I know the process, just in case I mess this up. Is this brewed differently than regular drinks?”

“I… don’t know.” Primrose wrinkled his nose at Harrow. “Probably, considering that we work with ambrosia… which is lethal to your kind. I’ll walk you through it, though. Just in case.” He looked pleased at Harrow’s nod of acknowledgement, then turned to watch Harrow as he carefully combined the purified water with the flowers, mixed them together, and then set it up so it could be properly distilled and brewed into the fine ambrosia that the cherubuns enjoyed.

Once the proper amounts were separated into three vials, Harrow set them all on their respective burners, noting that the flames were of different colors.

“Are the colors for balance too?” Harrow asked, turning his gaze to Primrose.

“Not necessarily, but in base terms, they hold different heat, and different heating elements provide different results. We’ll be pouring the ambrosia in layers to get that pretty gradient that I’m sure you’ve seen in the vials. The colors stay just slightly separated no matter how you shake it.” Primrose said, beaming at Harrow as he delved into his explanation in a pleased manner. It seemed that Harrow had won over Primrose’s good graces, so now he was speaking openly about the ambrosia they were brewing.

Harrow made sure to keep his eyes intently on the vials, making sure that they didn’t get too overheated too fast. He attached the long swirly cords to the tops as they came to a bubble, sending the gas through them to collect into new vials on the other side.

Once they were completed, and with Primrose’s help, he took the three vials and inspected them closely. Primrose pushed a larger vial forward, taking off the stopper and allowing Harrow to pour the liquids, making sure that he started with the darkest and heaviest liquid first. The middle color and density came next, and then the sparkling light liquid was poured on last, filling the container to almost the brim. He’d brewed everything correctly thanks to Primrose’s watchful eye, but now Harrow stepped back and watched Primrose finish the task, knowing that he couldn’t do anything more. His job was done.

Primrose grabbed a small bowl and dropped what looked like pellets into it, turning a burner on and setting the bowl over it gently. The pellets melted almost instantly, and Harrow realized that it was wax. Taking the stopper from earlier, Primrose dipped the lower half of it in the wax, gently blew on it, and then in a swift motion, placed it into the vial they’d filled with all the colors that Harrow had brewed.

“Incredible,” Harrow breathed, awed. “Is that to keep it from going bad?”

“And to prevent spillage in case of one dropping accidentally.” Primrose grasped the vial carefully, holding it before bowing. “Thank you, for your help. You’ve taught me many things over the course of these last few weeks.”

“I think I’m the one who’s learned a few things, but I wouldn’t mind doing this again,” said Harrow, head tilting in a curious manner. “But now that we’re done… would you like to come with me to Beanny’s for a bit of coffee? She’s got my remils and I hooked on this new brew she’s trying out, and I haven’t been able to really find an alternative. My pets are already spoiled as it is.”

Laughing, Primrose shook his head in dismay. “I could go for some coffee. I don’t know what it is about you… but you can’t help but make friends everywhere you go, can you? Even when you look like that.”

“Apparently not,” Harrow said, tapping his mask thoughtfully. “I guess that makes me the example of ‘looks aren’t everything’. Now, about that coffee…”