Diligent Gardening

Harrow ran his gloved fingers across the fertile soil in the Heavenly Embassy, head tilting just so as he studied the length of the hole he’d dug before dropping the seeds he was given into the hole, then reburying them.

It was almost a thankless task, if Dove hadn’t graciously accepted his offered help at trying to make others feel welcome. The Heavenly Embassy had been new to all of them, and Harrow wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to learn about the goings-ons around him.

Standing up to retrieve more seeds that Dove had brought, Harrow made sure to tug on the ends of his gloves as an almost thoughtless gesture. He wasn’t entirely sure if the flowers themselves were toxic to succubuns, or if in the process of making things out of them, they became toxic. It would be something he would think to pursue later; Harrow wasn’t keen on stealing, nor was he keen on taking something that they might clearly need right now when it was still fairly new.

Perhaps he’d ask later if they would be willing to part with a few flowers for experimentation, but for now, he was more than happy to make sure that the work was put in for future buns that came here and needed to survive.

Harrow stole a glance at Dove, who was happily gardening away with their own stack of seeds, humming a tune that he didn’t recognize. His head tilted again, wondering how their childhood differed so much from his. Did theiy know their parents, celebrated birthdays with them? Made familial memories that they could carry with them for the short amount of years they were able to live?

Maybe there was something to be said about that, sacrificing memories for a longer life or something similar.

“Are you alright?” Harrow glanced up at the soft voice from Dove, shoulders rolling to stretch a little.

“I think so. My apologies.” Harrow didn’t realize that he’d been staring at his hands in thought, and he clicked his tongue to shake off the lingering questions he had. “Do you have any more flowers?”

“Only a few more! And then we can take a break, I think,” said Dove, grasping a few flowers from their pile and setting them gently next to the empty area that Harrow was working on.

Bowing in a subtle manner as thanks, Harrow moved to separate the seeds from the flowers in a careful manner, expertly setting it aside in an un-mangled pile so they could use them later. He’d noticed the unfortunate pile from previous buns that had helped, frowning in dismay at the state of them. Were they not supposed to be careful with them, because the flowers themselves were used to create ambrosia?

Shaking his head once more, Harrow procured the rest of the seeds from the flowers Dove had given him, using them to fill the rest of the holes that were made. Double checking to see that they were separated enough, he moved the dirt over them and patted it to make sure it was solid, then stood up to stretch.

His back protested, a soft grunt rolling unbidden from his throat. Dove wasn’t done yet, so Harrow decided to take a moment to study the garden.

It was pretty, all things considered, few things similar to their gardens of their own world. It was curious how many similarities there were between their worlds, including the flora species.

The flowers were bright and bold, not at all hazy like the hazeblooms; they had some sort of aura or glow to them that almost seemed too bright to look at were he not wearing a mask.

Stepping closer to one, he crouched next to it and pulled it closer to look, taking care to not break the stem. Five petals on this one, white in color with a yellow center. Looking intently at it, he discovered that there was an almost inperceptible pattern in the petals themselves, off-white swirls embedded into them in an artistic fashion.

They were beautiful, and Harrow once again found himself wishing he could experiment with them just to see what would happpen.

“Your garden is beautiful,” said Harrow, his tone low. Dove didn’t seem to hear him, so he carried on, gloved fingers dragging across the statues as he passed them.

There wasn’t really a variety of flowers as most all of them were white, but Harrow squinted in thought. Perhaps in time they would get more colors to match the supposed ‘rainbow’ he’d heard about in passing stories, or folk tales that were told around campfires as of recent.

Setting his hands to his sides so he wasn’t tempted, Harrow stepped back and moved to return to Dove’s side, just in time to see them finish their own work. They glanced up with a bright smile, clearly happy to see him.

“You work fast!” Dove exclaimed, surprise and awe in their voice. “You must have had practice somewhere?”

“My own studies require careful precision,,” said Harrow, a slight smile playing upon his lips despite no one being able to see it. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Harrow,” said Dove, standing up and brushing themselves off. “Without your help, we wouldn’t have gotten as far as we did with the garden. We’ll be able to help so many with this work, and it’s all thanks to buns like you.”

“Stop,” said Harrow, clearly embarrassed at such praise, pressing his fingers to his mask as if to hide his blush.

“No, realy!” Dove moved forward and grasped his hands, squeezing them as they looked into his face. “I mean it. Thank you. You are such a blessing to have.” The meaning was said with such genuine love that it stopped Harrow’s protests, unspoken words dying on his tongue.

A blessing. How curious.

Harrow allowed himself to smile again, feeling the corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. He knew that Dove could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, so he made sure that they could understand him, squeezing their hands in return.

“As are you, Dove. You are a blessing, as well.”