[Gift] wreathed in cheer

In Prompts ・ By BeananaBread
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Agnes tightens her scarf around herself as she wanders toward the Garden of Virtue, tail twitching with every step. It’s cold up here, colder than down in Burrowgatory proper— every exhale leaves a misty ghost in its wake, a fog that dissipates before the next breath can come. Agnes huffs, and burrows further into her scarf. 

It’s louder here than in her cabin. She doesn’t care for it, however distant the noise is now. 

Still, far too late to turn back now. 

Agnes’ sharp purple eyes study the garden gates only briefly before she opens them. It’s more difficult in her bun form, but she’s stronger than she looks, and Agnes slips into the Garden of Virtues only a moment later. The gate closes behind her with a soft clang, but the noise doesn’t seem to register for the cherubun ahead of her. He has pale yellow fur, a fluffy tail, and wing-like ears— to say nothing of the disc-like halo that hovers above his head.

Agnes, living as deep in the woods as she prefers, has yet to meet a cherubun until now. She’s heard rumors, certainly; it’s difficult not to hear them. And the cherubun before her now looks an awful lot like the Primrose she’s heard so much about. 

She clears her throat upon drawing closer, and the cherubun visibly startles, whirling toward her. His eyes are wide, fluffy tail puffed out like a startled Furdin’s, and Agnes has to fight to keep the amusement off her face.

“A-Ah, hm. My apologies, I didn’t hear you come in,” he says, clearing his throat. He brushes imaginary dirt off his fur. “I don’t believe we’ve met— I am Primrose, caretaker of these gardens. Feel free to enjoy the flowers at your leisure.”

“Name's Agony,” she says, voice a drawling rasp. “But I go by Agnes.”

Primrose’s face twitches at her full name, and Agnes smirks behind her scarf as he visibly decides not to comment. “…Hm. Well, is there anything I might help you with, or shall I leave you to the gardens?”

“I need a holy holly plant. A live one. Or seeds.”

“I… beg your pardon?”

“Then beg. I need a plant either way.”

Primrose stares at her, sputtering. “What… do you— they aren’t for sale?!”

Agnes rolls her eyes, a scowl pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I’m making a wreath.”

Primrose huffs, sticking his nose up slightly. “You may not be aware, Agnes, but you don’t actually need a live plant to make a wreath. I can have some holy holly delivered to your residence, but we only have so many cultivars that can survive in Burrowgatory—”

“There are berries,” Agnes says simply. “Therefore, there are seeds. A sapling is preferred, but seeds will do.”

Primrose takes a deep breath, face slightly upturned as if to ask the Heavenly Meadow for patience. Agnes muffles a snort with her scarf.

“…Again, why? As I said, you don’t need a live plant for a wreath. Or seeds.”

Agnes watches him, barely hiding her amusement. “Wanted to see if it has healing properties.”

Primrose blinks a few times, taken aback. “I… we’ve tested the plants before, with no results—”

“Then let me try,” Agnes cuts in, purple-blue eyes sharp. He wasn't using it the way she would be anyway. “More testing the better. I need it for the wreath anyway. So two Corvats, one stone and all that.”

“I… that isn’t exactly something I can do,” Primrose says after a long moment, mouth pressing into a thin line. “We only have so many cultivars, and we need the majority of their seeds to grow more. I can give some cuttings for your wreath, and a few berries so you may try to grow them… Is that acceptable?”

Agnes watches him for a drawn-out moment. His body screams uncertainty despite his attempts to hide it behind a veneer of confidence, and his eyes are confused, unsure what to make of her— a little wary perhaps. He shifts a little under her gaze, as if wanting to fidget, but doesn’t allow himself to. She lets him sweat a bit longer before she responds. 

“Sure.”

“Sure,” Primrose echoes blankly, then clears his throat, straightening up. “Ah, well— certainly. Please wait here for a moment.”

He sounds relieved. Agnes just grunts in response, eyes tracking his every movement as he disappears around the corner. She smirks the moment he disappears, biting back a snicker.

Demons, he’s fun to mess with. That alone almost makes this trip worth it, since her plans for testing the holy holly have to be postponed now.

It isn’t long until Primrose returns, a grocery bag full of holly berry cuttings on one arm, his other arm holding a little ziplock bag— hard to see from here, but presumably the berries. He clears his throat, and holds both toward her expectantly. “Here you are.”

She watches him for awhile, face blank save for the intensity of her gaze. Primrose stares back at her warily, looking close to fidgeting again before she snatches them from his arms. 

“Thank you,” she says with a mouth full of teeth, bared in a grin.

Primrose leans back on instinct, swallowing. “Yes, erm, you are— most welcome. Yes. Indeed.”

Agnes turns and leaves with a flick of her tail, leaving Primrose to his silence.

 

Later finds Agnes in the warm comfort of her cabin, far away from the cherubun garden and its caretaker. She hums a song to herself, brushing down her finished wreath and making sure it’s to her liking. It’s white and gold, as cherubun tradition dictates, but a few wooden talismans and trinkets have been braided into its branches— Agnes’ own personal touches. It would absorb any bad luck to cross her threshold before the new year. 

“Looks nice, doesn’t it?” she asks, and glances toward the open door. The bun silhouetted in the doorway watches her with glowing red eyes, bright against the winter gloom. 

Lakehouse chirps their response, and Agnes nods. “Isn’t for chewing though. Keep that in mind.”

She turns toward them as they nod, offer her a few clicks and whistles. They back away from the doorway enough to give her space, and Agnes walks over to them, hanging the wreath on her front door without much fanfare. 

Lakehouse watches her hang it, eyes wide as always. She steps away to let them inspect it, and they do, poking and sniffing it with open curiosity. 

“It’ll make sure things don’t go wrong here for awhile,” she explains. “I can give you the lamp oil you were wanting now?”

Lakehouse’s wings flare out in excitement, and they whistle like a tea kettle, nodding rapidly.

Agnes doesn’t hide her snort— she has no need to with Lake. “Yeah, alright, alright, keep your fur on,” she grumbles good-naturedly, and heads back inside. Lake doesn’t follow, and Agnes doesn’t ask them to. 

The air is warm and silent between them, as it often is, and no further words need to be spoken this night.

BeananaBread
[Gift] wreathed in cheer
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In Prompts ・ By BeananaBread

thank you succubuns for letting me torment primrose


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Submitted: 1 week and 1 day agoLast Updated: 1 week and 1 day ago

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