Pursuit of Diligence: Chapter 2

The morning sun filtered through the stained glass ceiling of the Heavenly Embassy’s main hall, casting a kaleidoscope of colors onto the polished marble floor. Hyacinth stood near the grand entrance, a neat, white purse slung over one arm. Within the purse lay a carefully packaged sachet of the tea leaves he’d been given—crisp, fragrant, and handpicked from the embassy’s more far from modest gardens. Their aroma was delicate, a blend of floral and herbal notes that even managed to perfume the air outside of Hyacinth’s bag.

It was honestly taking every measure of restraint in his body not to snoop. If his flower snobbery was anything to go by, he was almost more of a tea aficionado. At home, it had gotten to the point now where he’d ran out of space in his tea cupboard for more boxes of sachets and had been forced to use… alternative methods of storage. Said methods naturally consisted of Hyacinth making his merry way next door to Conall’s and promptly stuffing his cupboards as well. After all, he was over there often enough.

That being said, he had never smelled such a blend of tea before. If he hadn’t been rushed out of the embassy, he might have been able to have a spare moment to ask exactly what sort of tea leaves the blend was made up of. Not that Primrose likely would have answered him.

Naturally, Primrose had only entrusted Hyacinth with the task of being a delivery boy after a painfully thorough explanation of the tea’s significance.

“Dove,” Primrose had said, “is one of the few who truly appreciates the subtleties of these leaves. They may have chosen to reside in your part of town so to speak, but their standards remain impeccable as always. Ensure the leaves arrive in pristine condition. And do be sure to be punctual. Tardiness very much defeats the purpose.”

Then there had been something about the freshness of the leaves, refined palettes, the proper way to carry it, warnings not to tarnish his reputation by making them undeliverable, etcetera, etcetera. Hyacinth had stopped listening after the first few times Primrose had turned up his nose at him during the explanation, which—judging from the pocket watch Conall had gifted him a while back—had taken about an hour.

When he had managed to get his way back down to the main roads of Burrowgatory, he took it upon himself to glance at the small note he’d tucked into his purse. It held the address that he was to deliver the leaves to, and he was thankful to know that the address was in a building that he recognized to be the same as his friend Lyall’s; he’d been there often enough on many occasions, whether it was to exchange plant clippings or simply for more refined conversation.

At least Primrose had unintentionally made one part of the task easy for him.

The apartment complex in question had a certain charm in its simplicity. The building was modest but well-kept, its brick exterior softened by potted plants adorning a few windowsills and balconies. The glow of warm lighting spilled out onto the street, and Hyacinth always found it to be quite the cozy, homely little space.

He approached the correct door as listed on the note, and knocked lightly, loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to potentially disturb anyone inside. Hyacinth preemptively reached into his purse for the sachet to have it ready to offer up, when he heard footsteps from inside the apartment.

“Just a moment!” came a light, melodic voice from within. A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal who Hyacinth could only presume to be Dove, their warm gaze lighting up with recognition.

They were of average height, with soft features and a gentle, dare he presume innocent demeanor that seemed to radiate kindness. Hyacinth inadvertently found himself smiling at such an infectious sweetness, and was instantly happy for what was certainly going to be a marked change of pace from Primrose.

“You must be Hyacinth!” Dove exclaimed with a bright smile. “Primrose told me you’d be delivering the tea leaves this time. Please, come in, come in!”

Hyacinth inclined his head politely. “And that means that you must be Dove,” he replied in a smooth, easy tone, holding out a gloved hand to shake, which Dove promptly did. “Thank you for the warm welcome—and the invitation. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He took a step inside, fully opening his purse to slip the delicate box of tea leaf sachets into his palm. “I’ve been given to understand that these might spontaneously combust if I so much as breathe near the box,” he added as he held it out to offer it to them, his smile turning wry. “Here’s to hoping that they’re not entirely ruined for you. I did try my best.”

Dove laughed softly, accepting the box with care. “That sure does sound like Primrose. He… has a way of making the smallest things feel monumental, to say the least.” They set the box gently on the kitchen counter, untying the ribbon around the box with deliberate precision. “But I do appreciate his thoughtfulness. There’s honestly really nothing like tea from the Embassy gardens, and I always appreciate him being so willing to set aside some for me.”

“They’re really that good?” Hyacinth asked, intrigued. “Now I’ll really have to find a way to get my hands on some, in that case. Personally, the blends I usually have are of a more floral nature than being leaves, but…” He peeked over Dove’s shoulder, curiosity getting the better of him as they arranged the box atop the counter not far from a teapot perched on the stove. “I’ve never actually smelled tea leaves that have such a naturally sweet scent like those ones seem to.”

“Well, you’ll stay for a cup, won’t you?” Dove asked, their voice warm but matter-of-fact, as if the invitation were a given. “I’d be more than happy to make some to share, and I could even talk you through the ingredients, if you’re interested in that?”

Hyacinth glanced at the clock, calculating the time he had left before his weekly date night with Conall, and gave a small, satisfied hum at his mental math’s conclusion. “Only if it’s not too much trouble,” he said. “I would be delighted. Truth be told, I’ve been frothing at the mouth for a taste of it.”

“It’s not any trouble at all,” Dove replied with a light little laugh, gesturing toward the sofa. “It’s the least I can do for someone who braved Prim’s perfectionism to deliver these.”