Camellia spine-ensis

Morgaine was getting used to the Heavenly Embassy’s atmosphere. The ambrosia plants didn’t sprout up overnight, of course, but he had taken to visiting to check on the ones that he and Dove had planted every few days. It had the added benefit of letting him explore the Embassy and further familiarize himself with a place that he rarely had a reason to venture into otherwise. 

His initial impression that it wasn’t too different from the upscale neighborhoods of Burrowgatory had proven mostly accurate. The residents were a bit more standoffish - or perhaps “timid” would have been a better descriptor. Cautious, even. Many expressed (mostly) polite curiosity about the succubun strangers in their midst but kept their distance, while others were much more forward in their interest regarding their new neighbors. Other than that, everything was familiar enough to be comforting, but novel enough to keep him coming back to explore.

The greenhouses were the biggest standout difference, other than the obvious differences between cherubuns and succubuns. Morgaine’s meanderings through the Embassy always ended up there, so that they could cap their little trips off with a look over the new plants sprouting up. It wasn’t particularly a surprise to find Primrose there too, making sure that everything was kept in tip-top shape. Primrose spared Morgaine a glance as they entered the greenhouse and made their way between the rows of flowerbeds and pots.

“Back again?” He said when Morgaine had gotten close enough to no longer require raising his voice to address. Apparently, Primrose had come to somewhat expect their appearance too, or at least to not be surprised by it.

His tone was hard to decipher, but Morgaine had opted to go along with Dove and Beanny’s assurances that Primrose was ultimately a well-meaning guy, just uptight and stiff in manner. That seemed like the path of least resistance.

“I’ve been incorporating little visits here and there into my routine,” he answered pleasantly. “It’s nice to see how the flowers are coming along.”

“Hm,” was the best approximation of the noise that Primrose made in reply. Not quite a “hmph,” but perhaps halfway there. He didn’t seem especially disapproving; more likely, that was just a default Primrose response. “The ambrosia flowers are slow-growing, so you’re unlikely to see much progress day to day.”

“Sure, sure, but they’re shooting up just a bit now, aren’t they?” Morgaine said, neatly sidestepping the unspoken accusation that he was being impatient (or maybe that was him projecting onto Primrose again) and indicating the flowerbed where small green stems had just begun to poke their heads out of the dirt.

He got another “hm” in answer.

Now, Morgaine did have a bit of a habit of prying into interesting buns’ lives. Call it a guilty pleasure (the gathering of information, especially information of the exclusive variety, rather than the act of prying itself). They’d been called nosy more than once, and it was a label that couldn’t entirely be denied. Primrose had struck them early on as a particularly tough nut to crack, and that impression had held true so far, much like Morgaine’s initial impressions of the Embassy itself. There was satisfaction in being right.

But you know, there was also that little nagging doubt. What if you were giving up too easily? What if there really was more lurking underneath the surface?

Regarding Primrose, who had stopped paying attention to Morgaine and gone back to watering a row of leafy, pale green shrubs, it still felt too early to push. All they’d likely end up pushing were Primrose’s buttons, in the wrong way. But the curiosity lingered, waiting to be satisfied another day.

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair then,” Morgaine said after a few more moments, when he’d had his fill of looking at the plants. He turned to leave the greenhouse, fully expecting to receive a third “hm” to complete the interaction, but Primrose called after him.

“Wait just one moment, please.”

Morgaine turned back, raising his eyebrows at him. “Yes?”

“While you’re here,” Primrose said, setting down his watering can and turning to face Morgaine. “If you want to make yourself useful, I have something that you can do.” 

The “if” indicated that it was up to Morgaine, but Primrose’s expression suggested that there was a clear right and wrong answer.

Morgaine smiled. “Of course. What can I do for you, hoss?”

Primrose gestured for Morgaine to follow him, and he did so. “These are tea plants,” he said, indicating the shrubs he’d been wandering as they walked. “They’re a variety grown from seeds and cuttings taken from the Heavenly Meadow, so they can only be cultivated here, like the ambrosia flowers. I have some dried leaves ready for Dove, but they haven’t come up to collect them yet.” The two of them came to a stop in front of a stack of boxes.

It wasn’t a particularly big stack, but tea leaves also didn’t tend to take up that much space, so the fact that there was a stack at all made Morgaine raise his eyebrows. “That’s… a lot of tea.”

“Dove is a prolific tea drinker, and a prolific host to many guests,” Primrose said. “We had a discussion about it, and decided it would be easier to get their tea in bulk.”

“Makes sense. So you just need me to take, uh… all of this…?”

“If you can manage it.” Primrose didn’t quite sniff haughtily, but Morgaine could so easily imagine him doing it.

“Of course I can manage,” Morgaine replied breezily, stepping past Primrose to demonstrate that he could, in fact, do just that.

“Lift with your legs and not your back,” Primrose instructed as Morgaine bent to grab the boxes. Not beating the “similar to Dan” allegations today, Primrose.

“I know, I know-” He cut himself off with a grunt, getting a grip on the boxes and lifting them. They were lighter than he’d anticipated and thus came up more easily than expected, throwing him off-balance; he had to backpedal a step in order to stay upright and reorient himself. Primrose watched him doubtfully, hands half-raised as though he intended to grab the boxes away, or at least try to save them if Morgaine fell.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” Morgaine reassured him. Yeah, this wasn’t so bad. They weren’t that heavy; it was just leaves. He just had to carry these, uh…

…All the way back down to Burrowgatory and to Dove and Jackal’s apartment.

He could do that! No problem at all. It was basically a grocery run.

***

Morgaine’s back was killing him.

That whole nugget of wisdom about lifting with the legs and not the back? That old chestnut? It was good advice, sure, but it didn’t really factor in the rest of the process after the lifting. You know, the standing and carrying for an extended period of time, and all that jazz. He should have asked Primrose if there was a dolly cart available to use, but knowing Morgaine’s luck, he’d have ended up running over his own foot with it if there was one.

He’d started feeling a little bit of a twinge in his lower back about halfway through the elevator ride back down to Burrowgatory, but he’d ignored it. Dove and Jackal didn’t live far; he could power through.

And to his credit, he did! He powered his way right on over to Dove and Jackal’s apartment, even if his powering was more of a hobble by the end. Eat it, Primrose! Morgaine was managing just fine!

He had to swivel to ring the doorbell with his elbow, and he nearly toppled over in the course of doing so, which would surely have resulted in an inglorious death via having his sternum crushed underneath the weight of the tea boxes, but nevermind that!

Burrowgatory’s air had warmed in time with the summer season, and his shirt was stuck to his aching back with sweat. He was trying not to focus on that, or how disheveled he probably looked when the door swung open to reveal a quizzical-looking Dove.

“Special delivery,” Morgaine did not say coolly and suavely. It came out as more of a wheeze.

“What- oh!” Dove caught sight of the neat labels that someone, presumably Primrose, had written on the sides of the boxes. A moment after the realization hit, their cheeks reddened with embarrassment and their hands flew to cover their mouth. “I forgot to pick up my tea!” They exclaimed, slightly muffled by their hands.

Jackal appeared over Dove’s shoulder, and a grin split her face at the sight of Morgaine and his cargo. “Hey, I didn’t know that the Embassy was doing takeaway now!” She said, clearly well-aware that this was not the case.

“They’re- not,” Morgaine huffed out anyway. “Please take this,” he added, voice squashed. He’d powered through, and now the well of power had run dry, and he was at the metaphorical bottom.

“I’ve got you… hoss.” Jackal nudged Dove to the side and accepted the boxes with far too much ease. Morgaine slumped against the doorframe for support, and graciously didn’t even comment on Jackal poking fun at his manner of speech.

“Would you like to come sit down and have a glass of water?” Dove offered, taking pity on him.

“You will have my undying gratitude, love, and devotion, sugar,” Morgaine wheezed.

“Just gratitude is enough,” Dove said, laughing a little awkwardly in the way that they did when they weren’t sure how much someone was joking. Morgaine was too out of breath to clarify.

Dove gently took him by one shaky arm and led him into the apartment, closing the door behind them and preventing the cool interior air from escaping. Morgaine collapsed into a kitchen chair as soon as it was offered and flopped facedown on the table.

“Aw, you’ll be okay,” Jackal said, patting him on the back significantly less gently than Dove after she’d set the tea down. “Hard work is good for you, right? That’s what you’re learning up in the Embassy?”

“Jackal,” Dove chided them. They brought Morgaine the promised glass of water and set it on the table. “Thanks for bringing that to me. I did tell Primrose that getting a bigger shipment all at once sounded easier, but I usually go and get it myself. It just slipped my mind.”

Morgaine sat up with a small groan and gratefully picked up the glass of water to gulp it down. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand when he was through, forgetting his manners for a moment in his relief. “Thank you, honey. And as for you-” He pointed a skeletal finger at Jackal, who was still grinning. “I’m plenty hardworking already, thank you very much.”

“Ooh, working-class hero, carrying Burrowgatory on his back.” She grabbed him by the shoulders and lightly shook him as she passed by on her way back to unpack the boxes of tea. “Get this man another drink, he’s earned it.”

“I have earned it,” Morgaine mumbled, a little petulant. He did accept the second glass of water that Dove brought him. It wasn’t even about the principle of free things; he really didn’t think that he could get up from the kitchen chair even if he’d wanted to at the moment. He did feel a little better after the second drink, though Dove cautioned him not to drink it down too quickly. He caught himself nearly doing just that and gave them a nod of further gratitude. Giving himself stomach cramps really would have ruined this whole semi-triumph.

“The flowers are coming along nicely,” he informed Dove once he’d caught his breath and felt less like his spine was about to dissolve. “I was checking in on them when Primrose asked me to bring the tea to you.”

“Oh!” Dove lit up. “That’s great! I’ll have to go check on them myself soon. And, uh, maybe reconsider the bulk tea shipments,” they added with an awkward chuckle.

“You could always ask Primrose to bring them down to you himself,” Morgaine said with a wry smile. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.”

Jackal snorted loudly from where she was still putting the tea away. Dove gave them both a look that said they had grasped the sarcasm, but they weren’t entirely able to keep a smile off of their face.

“Maybe I’ll see about carrying it myself first. I could build up some muscle.” They raised one arm, curling it to flex their bicep. The muscle was about as prominent as Morgaine’s own bicep, which was to say not at all.

“...Maybe just going back to the small orders is a better idea,” Jackal said.

Dove pouted playfully at her, dropping their arm. “You don’t think I could manage it? Morgaine did.”

“Hey!” Morgaine protested.

“Are they wrong?” Jackal asked, looking back over to him with an arched eyebrow.

“...They’re not wrong. But I’m protesting on principle.”

“Yeah, yeah. Here.” She tossed him a small paper bag. He just managed to catch it, juggling it for a moment before clutching it securely to his chest. “Some tea for the road. This is the good stuff, you know.”

“Thank you,” Morgaine said, surprised but grateful. He knew from experience that it was very good. Sensing that this was also perhaps a signal that he’d imposed on their hospitality long enough, he got to his feet, groaning as his back popped. “I’ll be on my way, then. You two have a lovely afternoon.”

“Come back soon!” Dove chirped after him as he exited. He waved back at them before stepping out the front door and closing it securely.

Warm weather or no, he was heading straight home to take a long soak in a hot bath.