Diligence 3 - Filigree

Sometimes, time seemed to drag and stretch, leaving Filigree with no concept of how long a day took, let alone a week or a month.

When Primrose popped his head into her workspace after she had finished up reviewing a rental contract for a nervous cherubun, it wasn’t until he spoke that she realized time had lost all meaning again. “Oh good, you’re free finally - it’s time to water the seedlings you helped to plant last week.”

She stared at him blankly, time yawning before her. “It’s… only been a week?” she asked.

Primrose laughed, covering his mouth. “That must have been a horrific contract if it’s distorted your view of time so badly,” he said. “Come on, stand up, get your gardening clothes on - some time with nature makes the world real again. If you spend all your time indoors, you’ll lose sight of reality.”

Filigree managed to stand, at that, though what he said nudged at her mind. Losing sight of reality… She’d think on that. “It was an atrocious contract,” she told him. “They were right to be nervous about it and to bring it to the Embassy instead of signing… I added it to the list of predatory management companies we warn newcomers about.”

“Good,” Primrose said, exiting the room to stand in the hall while she changed. “I loathe the thought of my kin’s good nature being taken advantage of…”

“Guess you didn’t imagine the Embassy having to do stuff like this when you conceived of it,” Filigree said, as she finished removing her dress to pull on the still barely used gardening clothes she had bought.

“Hardly… Melangel’s tales of hell were… more exciting than the reality, I must admit,” he said. “I thought cherubuns like Dove were mad to come to this den of murder and hedonism…” A chuckle escaped Primrose, likely in spite of himself. “I didn’t anticipate concepts like rent, or contracts, or loans…”

“We’re both better than you thought and worse than you imagined,” Filigree joked, stepping out once she had finished changing her clothes.

“Indeed,” Primrose said drily. “I think loansharks are more depraved than anything Melangel had warned us of, truly.”

“I don’t know what they warned you about, but I’d probably agree,” Filigree said. She didn’t volunteer helping cherubuns who had fallen victim to bad contracts already, but she had certainly seen enough nasty contracts to imagine what those poor buns went through (and what countless succubuns surely endured).

It was a quick walk to the greenhouse from the offices, and to her surprise, Filigree found she did actually… feel better inside of them.

“This…” Primrose instructed, picking something up and turning, “…is a watering can. I’ve had numerous succubuns pitch the idea of sprinklers to me, but I believe that to be an instrument of sloth, and will not tolerate it in my greenhouses.”

His speech was wasted on Filigree, who had approximately no knowledge of gardening and simply looked at him blankly.

“…right, your mansion has gardeners, so you don’t know any of this,” he said, sighing. “Nevermind. Just understand that you fill this part with water…” He demonstrated at the greenhouse’s sink. “Once it is partially filled - only partially, you don’t want to overfill it, or you will overtax your arms and risk overwatering the plants - you take it to the plants, hold it at this distance above them, and tilt it juuust so…”

Filigree watched in fascination as water exited the small holes in the end of the watering can.

“…and stop after just a few seconds,” Primrose said, leveling it out to stop the flow of water. “Clear?” he asked.

“I believe so,” she replied.

“Excellent.” Primrose handed her the watering can. “I will grab another, then, and work on a different bed from you. It’s more efficient, that way.”

Filigree nodded, accepting the can, and moved to imitate the way he had watered the flowers. He didn’t seem to have any criticism, at least, so she soon discovered that even without having the can full, it was taxing to the arms. Halfway through the bed, she had to pause to rub her muscles.

“They’re still sore from last week, probably,” Primrose informed her, helpfully. Just in case she still didn’t remember it had only been a week ago that they had planted these seedlings.

“…probably,” she agreed, sighing. “I’ve never had to use those muscles in this way… I think the closest I usually get is some of the dances I have to do when I’m on tour.”

Primrose shook his head. “It will never cease being strange to me that some buns pay to hear someone sing…” He clucked his tongue slightly, mostly focused on his work. “I mean, everyone can sing. It’s hardly restricted.”

“I think mostly they pay for the experience of the concert,” she replied, willing herself to lift the can again. If only she was ambidextrous… “Like… there’s the merchandise of like, the singer and the album, there’s connecting with other fans, there’s being in a big group of other buns singing and dancing along… The singer facilitates it, sure, but it’s not really about them? I guess maybe to some super fans it is, but… I think it’s more about feeling connected to a lot of different buns by a shared purpose and energy.”

She rarely heard Primrose go quiet when she did actually respond back to something she said, and after a few minutes of quiet, she had to take a look at him. To her surprise, he looked contemplative, and maybe even a little bit sad.

“…did I… say something wrong?” she asked, worried.

Primrose looked surprised, and then shook his head. “No, no… It just struck me, the idea that everyone is seeking connection. It reminded me of… How I always viewed the Heavenly Meadow, and the activities we cherubuns perform there. We’re connected, we share purpose and energy - we work together, we sing together, we have common goals and common cause…” He sighed, almost wistfully. “It is something I had not thought existed in Burrowgatory, but when you said it, I nearly felt it.”

“Oh…”

“Sometimes, in this work, I feel as though I am the only one doing it, as though there is no common cause or goal,” Primrose continued, refocusing himself as much as he could. “It’s easy to feel that way - Beanny has her café, Dove has their… life with Jackal, and there’s little in the way of permanent staff at the Embassy. Many volunteers move on after only a little while. I never expected anything else, of course, I undertook this burden not for myself but for the sake of my kin.” He sighed, rolled his shoulders, and cast Filigree one of his rare smiles. “Even if I lack that for myself, it is nice to know it is not an experience limited to the Heavenly Meadow.”

“Maybe eventually you’ll get to have it again,” Filigree ventured. “I’d imagine more cherubuns in the future might want to help, like you did.”

“It’s a nice thought,” he admitted. “I will manage even if I do not…”

“I know,” she said. “But… I hope you don’t have to always just manage.”

“I appreciate it, Filigree.”

They continued to work together in silence after that, each consumed by thoughts. Filigree’s mind drifted slowly from their conversation back to earlier. Could staying inside too much detach you from reality?

It… didn’t seem impossible, really.

Her time outside was limited just to the time it took to get into the car, then to get into the elevator from the car, and then from the elevator to the offices of the embassy.

“…maybe I should spend more time not inside…” she said as she went to refill her watering can, not quite realizing she was saying it aloud until she heard her own voice.

“You should,” Primrose said, almost immediately. “You spend all your time indoors and hiding. Your fans may go to your concerts to connect with each other, but you’re terrified of them.”

She paused to stare at him.

He, in turn, raised his eyebrows at her. “The first time you stepped into the Embassy, a visiting succubun snapped a picture of you and you recoiled as though you had been harmed.”

Filigree opened her mouth, then shut it again, and nodded slightly.

“Try spending some time outside,” he said, and with a glance at her horns, added, “And if you’re that level of afraid of buns you say only want connection… you should really reconsider what you’re doing with your life.” He sniffed slightly. “One of the volunteers who works with now addicted cherubuns says it’s never too late to change your course, and I think it is an apt message.”

“…maybe,” Filigree mumbled. She felt a bit like crying. Primrose had understood the first time he had met her, and yet it had taken her decades to see the same thing… She felt silly and foolish, and more than a little lost suddenly.

“You don’t have to take every step at once,” Primrose said. “Diligence is the continuation of work put in over time. It’s planting, caring for, harvesting, storing, using - it’s work, and a long cycle of steps that link to one another. I believe it to be the virtue that applies most broadly to our lives - purity may be beyond the grasp of succubuns, but diligence? You can live it in so many facets of your life. You’ve figured out harder things than this - I think you’ll manage.”

Filigree nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and went back to watering the plants. It was a long day of difficult work… but that conversation would haunt her mind for months to come.