[Comm] DILLIGENCE CHAPTER II

**BEEP!**  **BEEP!**  **BEEP!**  **BEEP!**

Trump’s red-rimmed eyes snapped open at the harsh buzzing of the nearby alarm clock.  Blinking in confusion as his ears rang, he reached for the button to set the damned thing to snooze.

Five in the morning.  It was five in the morning and his whole body ached from yesterday’s strenuous labor in the cherubun greenhouses.  He sat up slowly and rolled his shoulders trying to rid himself of some of the stiffness in them, wincing at the feeling of every last muscle in his body cramping in protest.

Primrose had worked him and Bev to the bone yesterday!  And now they were expected to return to the prissy cherubun today?

“I’ll see you outside this greenhouse at six a.m. on the dot.”  He could picture Prim’s snooty, disdainful face in his mind's eye so clearly.  “By the morning I’ll have a new assignment for you, and this time you had better not be late!”

He rubbed his eyes and looked blearily over at Bev, still passed out and snoring peacefully in the bed next to him.  By some miracle the other succubun had slept right through the alarm.  Trump jabbed him sharply and repeatedly with a hoof until he whined in protest, stirring into wakefulness with a frustrated harrumph.

“Five already?”  He grimaced, rolling over on his other side.  “How about you give me five.  Five more minutes I mean… make yourself useful and go prepare me breakfast…”

Trump frowned.  “You can get up and make your own breakfast.”  he grumbled, shuffling out of bed to pull the curtains open and let light stream into the room.  Bev hissed like an angry vampire and pulled the pillow over his head in response.  “Remember, this was your idea.  We can’t be late or that stuffy cherubun will get on our tails about it again.”

Bev heaved a long, dramatic sigh and stretched his legs, kicking the comfortable duvet off his own aching body.  “Can’t you go by yourself today, Trumpy?  My arms hurt.  And my little hoofies for that matter.  How about you give me a foot rub?  To make it feel better?”  He blinked pleadingly up at the prideful bun, snickering at the look of revulsion he was given in return.

“Breakfast and a foot rub??”  Trump scowled.  “I’ll show you breakfast and a foot rub!”  He grabbed a pillow and started hitting at the other bun with it, to Bev’s absolute shrieks of displeasure.  

“Save your foot rubs for when we’ve got our own Diligentia virtue and get out of bed before we’re late!!!”

In ten minute’s time the two succubuns were gingerly setting off down the road, navigating Butrowgatory’s twists and turns to make their way back to the embassy.  The usually bright crystals that lit their comfortable hellscape were still warming up for the day, their soft light casting a facsimile of weak sunlight on the buildings lining the paths.

“How do cherubuns deal with being awake at this hour?” Bev grumbled as he gnawed on a piece of burnt toast he’d taken along for breakfast.  “I feel ready to drop back to sleep at any second.  Trumpy!!  Can you carry me?  I need your energy!”  He grabbed at the other succubun’s arm.

Irritating as it was, Trump gave him no reply, dragging Bev along at his request.  He was simply too tired to argue and the embassy was already looming into sight.  Step after step, Trump was repeating a single mantra in his mind; Think of the Diligentia.  You’re doing this for Diligentia!

Finding yesterday’s greenhouse was easy enough, and through the panes of crystal clear glass, Trump could see a pair of cherubuns mincing about with watering cans in their dainty paws, sprinkling fresh water onto the ambrosia buds that he and Bev had planted the previous day.

“Oh to be a little flower in a cherubun garden…” he sighed, closing his eyes to rest them a moment.  A little sprinkle of fresh, cool water wouldn’t go amiss after dragging his housemate all this way.

Bev shot him a quizzical look.  “What are you mumbling about?  Don’t fall asleep on me now, here comes Prim!”  He elbowed Trump in the ribs, making the other succubun wince as he straightened up, forcing a smile as he stepped on Bev’s tail in retaliation.  Primrose did not seem to notice the two of them scuffling, and flashed them both a rare smile.

“Delightful!” He crowed.  “Not only did you come back, you even arrived early today!  I had my misgivings about the two of you but this does put me in a cheerful mood.  Follow me, if you please!”

Tucking his paws behind his back, the cherubun strode purposefully towards another greenhouse, explaining the task of the day as they went.

“Now, I need you to understand that ambrosia isn’t the only kind of plant that we cultivate here at the embassy.  You can craft many astounding things out of mundane plants, believe me!  It was one of the things we were taught early on when we lived in the Heavenly Meadow…” he trailed off a moment with a wistful sigh.  “I know down here in Burrowgatory you make all sorts out of the plants here… like milk and leather and… alcohol.” He wrinkled his nose.  “But today, I’ll be introducing you to some true cherubun culture.  You’re to help me pick tea leaves and then deliver a canister of them to Dove.”

Trump raised an eyebrow at Bev, who shrugged.  Both of them were somewhat familiar with the cherubun who had fallen into Burrowgatory at the tail end of the previous year… Prim, the gardens, and even the Embassy would not be here if not for them!

Before he could ask about what made tea so special, Trump found himself being ushered into a new greenhouse and a delicately woven basket was thrust into his paws.  Bev held his own one carefully, unsure what to do with it as the two of them looked at the plants in the building.

The light coming through the glass panes of the ceiling was bright and strong, the garden beds laid out in row upon neat and tidy row of low bushes.  A strong fragrance filled the air, green and faintly spicy, but very distinct and unfamiliar.  A pair of cherubuns were walking up and down the rows, plucking leaves to fill similar baskets as the ones the two succubuns held.

“Follow me,” Primrose sashayed over to the nearest bush and held out a paw to indicate he was about to give an important lesson.

“Now, look at these bushes, at the fresh, tender leaves at the tip of each stalk here.” He gestured meaningfully.  “These are the leaves you want to pick.  Just the tip of each stem!  None of the older leaves, they’ll make the tea taste bitter.  And while we gather I can tell you more about the process and history of our fine culture…”

All morning long, Trump and Bev worked carefully over the tea bushes as Primrose’s voice droned on, filling basket after basket full of the bright green leaves.  Trump found himself falling into an easy rhythm of picking and stashing as Primrose’s voice faded into background noise.

Somewhere in the row across from him, Bev was sneaking a mouthful of leaf to see what the fuss was about, pulling a face at the strange flavor.  Thankfully Primrose was too busy explaining the mechanics behind making the perfect cup of tea to notice.

“Goodness me, has it been two hours already?”  The cherubun startled after a moment, looking up at the sky beyond the greenhouse walls.  “I suppose you’ve done enough.”  He inspected the baskets that the two succubuns held, fussing a little over the state of some of the leaves.  “These will do, I suppose.  You can leave your baskets on the table.”

Thankful that the work was over, Bev and Trump looked at one another, more than ready to head home for a long nap.  They had just reached the greenhouse door and were about to exit, when Primrose clearing his throat loudly behind them made them both turn around.

“Forgetting something, aren’t we?  I said you were to make a delivery to Dove.”  The cherubun pushed an ornate canister into Trump’s paws, resting a softly scented piece of paper with an address written in elegant, flowing script on top.  “Off you go then!”  He scooted them both out of the door without so much as a goodbye.  Just like that, both succubuns were once again walking the streets outside the embassy, groaning softly about their extra chore.

“I can barely read this.  Can you?”  Bev asked as they walked down the main road to Burrowgatory’s envy accommodations.  Trump shrugged, peering over the canister to raise an eyebrow at Primrose’s cursive handwriting.

“It all looks like scribbles to me.” He wrinkled his nose.  “We should be ok though, right?  How hard could it be to find one apartment…?”

Harder than expected apparently!

Prim hadn’t drawn a map and neither bun could make heads or tails of his handwriting, as pretty and elegant as it was.  They went up and down the streets and alleyways, asking various succubuns for directions, and it was only an hour and a half later that they finally found themselves outside Jackal’s door.

Throughout the excursion, Trump kept catching little flickers of light in the corner of his eye.  Was that the glimpse of a halo?  A tiny, four armed virtue watching them from nearby…?  He opened his mouth to ask Bev if he’d seen the light too, but the lustful bun was already banging his fists on the apartment door, ready for this delivery to be over with.  

From inside the building someone yelled ‘We don’t want any!’ which was soon chased by another voice, softer, lighter and pleading.  After a moment, they heard a click of a lock unlatching, and the door gently swung open, revealing a soft and cloudy colored cherubun, halo shining and little fluffy tail waggling in excitement.

“Ah!”  Dove beamed at their two visitors, eyes lighting up as they glimpsed the canister Trump was carrying.  “You’ve brought my tea!  Prim said there would be a couple of buns delivering me a fresh canister.”  Their smile was so sweet and cheerful that both succubuns couldn’t help but return the gesture.

“It took a hot minute for us to find the place.”  Bev said nonchalantly, tucking his paws nonchalantly behind his head.  “Prim’s handwriting is… not the best for directions.”

Dove’s laughter was like a peal of bells as they took the canister from Trump’s paws.  “Oh no, I suppose you were running all over the apartment block judging from the look of the two of you.  I hope Primrose hasn’t been working you too hard… I asked him to just deliver a fresh batch of tea for me but…” their nose twitched as they sniffed the air.  “He made you pick leaves too, didn’t he?”

“While bragging about the wonders of embassy-grown tea the whole while.”  Trump shook his head tiredly at the memory.

Dove shot him a sympathetic look.  “He gave you the whole history lesson, huh?  I can’t let you go having come all this way without sampling the beverage for yourselves!  Would you like to have a cup of tea and rest your paws for a moment?  I’ll have Jackal boil the jug for us.”  They glanced meaningfully over their shoulder at the dark succubun lounging on a couch in the apartment’s living room.

Bev and Trump looked at each other.  Neither was about to turn down the possibility of a free meal, nor the chance to try something new.

“I sure could use a drink…” Trump started.

“I sure could use a foot rub!”  Bev exclaimed.

With the jug on the boil at the back of the room, Dove ushered the two succubuns into the apartment, door swinging gently closed behind them.

And somewhere across the street, its shining halo gleaming, the watchful Diligentia gave a content nod and drifted away towards the embassy.

~ FIN