Pursuit of Diligence Chapter 3: Exercising Pa(in)tience

Plants grow so slowly.

 

It's been weeks. Temple isn't at the embassay every day, but more often than not he ends up stopping by for at least a couple of hours. It's not because of what Dove said, he's not being nicer or anything, and he definitely doesn't care about whether or not Primrose is overworking himself.

 

It's all for that ambrosia. That's it. No matter what wannabe psychoanalyzing cherubuns want to say.

 

Temple is so caught up in his own thoughts that he nearly runs straight in to one of the sources of his recent headaches.

 

"Ah-" Temple's head snaps up at the sudden hand on his bicep, instinctively ready to smack away whoever has dared to touch him.

 

"Please pay better attention to your surroundings, Mr. Temple," Primrose sighs, in a tone that tells Temple what he really means is watch it, fuckwit.

 

"What, you expect me to bask in the awe and beauty of the Embassy? Does it makes you feel good to have us poor little sinners praise y-"

 

"That's not what I meant." Primrose has never risen much to Temple's jabs, but as of late, he seems to be even less affected by the greed bun's words. He lets go of Temple's arm, leaving temple to brush off his sleeve in what he expected to be a useless, petty motion, but which actually ends up with a cascade of dirt falling away, the remaining bits of dust and debris leaving a gray, vaguely hand-shaped blotch on the white cloth. 

 

"Near miss aside, your timing is good," the cherubun says, and while he doesn't say for once, Temple can hear it in his tone. "Here, before I wash up, let me show you."

 

Primrose turns around, heading back the way he had come- from the gardens, Temple registers, where he had been heading to when they'd bumped into each other. That... huh.

 

Could it be...?

 

Temple hurries after the cherubun, his hooves clacking against the stone floors of the Embassy.

 

---

 

The flowers are starting to bloom, and Temple could almost fall to his knees and cry.

 

Almost. He's so sick of getting dirt in his ball joint, after all; he's not willingly kneeling anywhere near dirt or plants ever again, if he can help it. 

 

Still, though, he makes no effort to hide his effort.

 

"Finally!" His shout shatters the serenity of the greenhouse, and Primrose visibly flinches. Temple can't help but snicker at the reaction. "Holy shit, this took forever. So, tell me, when will the ambrosia be ready?"

 

Primrose raises an eyebrow at Temple, and says nothing. Temple's smile drops, as does his tone.

 

"...it'll be ready soon, right?"

 

"Since when have you ever listened for more than a few minutes at a time... this is your own fault, but still, I should have realized..." Primrose mutters to himself, closing his eyes and taking a moment to pray to Melangel for patience. "Take a closer look, Mr. Temple. You'll find that the buds have only just started to open."

 

Temple's face falls further, his mouth twisting into a frown, and he has half a mind to ignore Primrose's instructions, but, well.... he's come this far. Reluctantly, Temple squats down, bringing him face to face with the flowers he's worked so hard to cultivate. Some of them sit full and proud, petals unfurled and basking in the artificial light of the greenhouse, while others still sit as tightly furled buds, their colorful petals just barely visible at the very top.

 

More are closed than opened, and the ones that are open.... are tiny.

 

"The plants have flowered, but they still need time to mature before the harvest. It's like... hm, like picking a fruit too early. They are not yet 'ripe' and anything we make with them at this point would be entirely inedible." Primrose crosses his arms. "I had just been checking on them, because at this point, they need the most intensive care to ensure all the work done to bring them to this point does not go to waste."

 

"Intensive care... you're telling me that before this was the easy part??" Temple cuts in, incredulous. He looks up at Primrose, but he's never known the cherubun to joke, and he looks about the same as ever- like he's just sucked on a lemon and heard someone drag their nails down a chalkboard at the same time.

 

"Indeed. As you would know had you listened to me..." Primrose says, the second part muttered under his breath. "But this is good. From here on, care is more simple, but must be done with greater frequency. Come."

 

The cherubun doesn't wait for Temple to follow- he never does. Either Temple will come along of his own free will, or he won't, and Primrose figured out pretty early on that there was little he could do to change the outcome.

 

...well, Temple's already here. He's already poured so. many. hours. into these stupid flowers. What's a bunch more? At least that way, it won't just be time wasted.

 

Temple groans, loud and theatric, as he rises back to his hooves, following after Primrose with all the enthusiasm of a young bun being made to give up their All Sinner's Day candy because it 'rots your teeth'.

 

"It's quite simple," Primrose says, grabbing a watering can that's still dripping with water, like it had been recently used. "You use the same dew-water as you had been before, but from here on we need to warm it before using it, and we must use a larger amount. The temperature of the soil is far more important than the temperature of the air, and as we are trying to mimic the growing season for these plants, we can no longer use cold water."

 

"But that- that will make things take so long-"

 

"Yes, Mr. Temple. And this is why cultivating flowers to make ambrosia is such a painstaking process, and one we cannot rush. Now, if we use cold water, it could cause the flowers to stunt their growth, cau..."

 

Temple tunes Primrose out.

 

(Honestly, he should have figured out by now that for as much as Primrose lectures him, it's usually quite relevant. But he can't help it, even with the new perspective Dove implanted into Temple's mind against his own will. Primrose just talks so much. If anything, Temple thinks he talks even more now than he did when they first met, and the cherubun, for all his haughtiness, has never been the silent type.

 

Well. Here's to hoping nothing he said was too important, Temple thinks, as he tunes back in.)

 

"...nd, Mr. Temple?"

 

"Uh-huh," Temple intones flatly, staring blankly at the watering can, now full of lukewarm water. "100% clear."

 

Primrose's expression shows how much he believes that, but at this point, Temple is fine to just ignore him. He can only handle so much Primrose in a day, and he's about hit his quota.

 

"Fine," Primrose relents, stepping forward and pressing the watering can into Temple's space. Without thinking, Temple takes it, a bit of water sloshing over the edge and dripping all over his shorts, legs, and the ground. Damnit. "I already watered the beds you've been working on, but since you're here, you can go water the ones on the west wall. Remember, you need to do two full cans per bed."

 

"Mhmm," Temple agrees, making a face at the offending gardening implement. "...wait, wh- two?? But I only had to do one before-"

 

"This," Primrose sighs, giving in to the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, "Is why you need to listen."

 

Temple groans, and while he doesn't voice it, Primrose silently agrees with the sentiment, though not for the same reasons.