MYO-602: Narcissus

One last task – that’s what Primrose had called it over the phone. Eight in the morning, sharp, as usual, the cherubun phoned Narcissus’ manor to summon him to the Embassy for more assistance with the ambrosia creation process. From seeds to harvest, Narcissus had made himself a useful – if not always especially efficient – helper. Cautiously, Primrose requested he come finish what he’d started – turning the harvested flowers into ambrosia itself. Primrose gave Narcissus ...

So far, Narcissus’ ploy had not paid off. He had hoped that by helping the cherubuns with their quaint little greenhouse chores, he’d drum up some good publicity. It would be generous to say he had an image problem, because such a level of judgment would imply more eyes on him than he had – but regardless of the reality of his (un)popularity, Narcissus always felt the gaze of some invisible authority upon him, waiting for another screw-up. He couldn’t let that happen, not again. Besid...

Most of the Heavenly Embassy rose and slept with the light of day. At night, all was quiet – all except the Paradise Café. When every other building was dark, windows shuttered for sleep, the café hummed with life and electronic light. The neon “OPEN” sign on the glass door buzzed with its welcoming purple glow all hours of the day, and the warm light from its windows poured out as a golden river onto the cobblestone street. It was a short walk from the Embassy’s greenhouse t...

Miraculously, the seeds that Narcissus helped to plant had begun to sprout. Now that the plants were growing, they needed tending to – fertilizing, watering, pruning… work begets more work. True to their word and good nature, Dove had volunteered to assist – which is to say, babysit - Narcissus for this next step of the growing process. Primrose was all too happy to have someone get the succubun out of his hair for a week or two, and let Dove take the reins on showing Narcissus how to c...

Dove hadn’t been expected visitors that afternoon, but the sound of impatient rapping on their apartment’s door was insistent. Their roommate had warned them about answering the door to strangers, but surely there was little harm in seeing what the person knocking wanted. Everyone in Burrowgatory had been kind to them so far. “Just a minute!” Dove called in their light, pleasant voice, a bit of birdsong that seemed to silence the knocking for a moment. They crossed the apartmen...

Primose often walked through the Heavenly Embassy’s greenhouse in the morning. It was a calming ritual – more so in the checking than the walking. Everything had its place, and the risk that something would fall out of place without Primrose’s knowledge could be enough to keep him up at night. Most mornings, everything was as it should be. This morning, however, Primrose found a stranger in the greenhouse. The bright, warm rays light filtering through the glass of the greenhouse ...