Tale Five, Primrose
A loud raucous applause rang through the entirety of the tavern that formerly belonged to Helgenish. Only a week had passed since the man was found dead in the sands outside of Sunshade, yet the citizens were celebrating. Owning the tavern allowed the man a firm grip on all aspects of the town. Once a paradise for those dedicated to the craft of dancing, Helgenish turned the artistic desert oasis into a den of greed and lust, using those who plied their craft to lure in sinful patrons. Now that the lecherous tavern owner was buried in the sprawling desert sands, the tavern – and thus Sunshade – once again belonged to the dancers who performed there.
Finishing one of their famous group performances, the current dancers on-stage bowed, happily accepting the customers' praise. While proud that her sisters-in-dance had taken control of their own destiny, Primrose Azelhart still felt a sting of melancholy. She sighed wistfully. After all, Yusufa would never take this stage again.
Rounds of soft, appreciative clapping reached her ears as she turned her gaze from her fellows to the people who had helped her.
Sitting at one of the tables closer to the bar, and the back, three of her new companions quietly cheered on the dancers from their seats. Glee written on their faces, Primrose could tell they appreciated the art for what it was – simply art. It warmed her heart to know that was how those in her new group of adventurers saw the world of dance.
"May I pour you another drink, Professor Albright?" Primrose offered kindly. She smiled warmly, pleased to serve those who aided in breaking her from Helgenish's chains.
"But of course, Lady Primrose! I cannot turn away such kindness," the scholar acquiesced easily, raising his glass as the dancer poured him a goblet of white pulque.
Primrose giggled at Cyrus' pure-hearted indulging. "Enjoy, professor. But please, just Primrose. I am a lady no longer."
"As of now, Primrose. Someday we shall see you as the head of House Azelhart once again. This, we swear," Olberic vowed as he drank his own drink. "For now, however, we welcome you into a group of wayward wanderers."
"It is a pleasure to have you with us, Primrose," Ophilia added gleefully, eyes shining with mirth.
Hiding her reddening cheeks, Primrose's grin only grew. "Thank you all, I swear I will aid you in your journeys, as well. Tonight, we enjoy, just as our personal bodyguard said." A wink was thrown the warrior's way for good measure.
In response, Olberic smirked. "Aye, she plays the part of romantic well, just as you do, Professor."
"I still am not quite sure what any of you mean by that," Cyrus sighed, his words' meanings still unbeknownst to him.
"Come now, I am sure there is someone out there who waits for you back home," Primrose spoke, pouring herself a cup of the same fermented cactus brew everyone else partook in. "A man with your looks and mannerisms must have many admirers."
"The flattery, my dear! Though I am charmed by such words, I cannot say I have anyone such as that back in Atlasdam," Cyrus acquiesced before taking a sip of his drink.
Ophilia laughed uneasily. "Professor, you perhaps are… a little oblivious sometimes."
"Never will I understand such words…"
"Ah, so the unknowing bachelor, you are? My, what fun I will have with you," Primrose toyed with the scholar. "We shall speak more of that later, we cannot have everyone spilling their secrets all at once. So, Ophilia, yourself?"
Though asked such an intimate question, the cleric kept her poise. Softly lit cheeks did not fool the dancer, no matter how much Ophilia had to drink. "I am afraid there is no one such as that in Flamesgrace for me."
"But you wish there to be?"
This caught the cleric off-guard.
"I, um… Well, yes, but… I have Anna and His Excellency, so I am quite content," Ophilia stuttered, the red in her cheeks growing.
Primrose let a feline chuckle escape her lips. She had the young woman now. "Seems as if you do wish to find someone you could hold dear to your heart that is not family. What an interesting turn of events to hear this from a sister of the Flame no less."
"The Order is not celibate, Primrose. In fact, it is quite natural for even the Archbishop to have a spouse, such is the case with Ophilia's father, I presume," Cyrus interceded, allowing the cleric a moment of respite.
Whether it was intentional or not, Ophilia was grateful for it. Although, the topic of her adoptive father's wife brought a new set of emotions to the forefront of her mind. She smiled softly, brown eyes dimming calmly as she wiped a strand of stray blonde hair behind her ear.
"His Excellency hardly spoke of his wife, but did so with a smile. She passed long before I was adopted into the Church. Though she is gone, I do not sense any grief from His Excellency. So, while a melancholy topic, He chooses to remember her and to go on living as she would want him to. I think…" Ophilia paused for a moment, lips widening and face glowing with a purer happiness. "I think that's what I would want, if I were to meet that one person, someone who would want me to live happily, and I them, no matter what."
"How lovely, Ophilia," Primrose commented, pleased by her companion's straightforwardness on the topic so early in their relationship. "Perhaps we shall find that one on this trip."
"Perhaps so," she replied simply.
"Too bad Tressa is not here to witness this. In Cobbleston, she was all too eager to hear about such a man in your life," Olberic commented. "You will have to tell this to her yourself, Primrose, when the merchant returns from the marketplace."
"I was wondering where she up and went off to," the dancer commented before slyly adding "but I do believe we are finished with Ophilia's sentiments for now. Though I will say, be warned, for it may not be a man she fancies. Many times have I seen a woman eye another woman with such passion."
"'Tis true, Primrose, would not be safe to assume. I knew a man once when I was in service to Hornburg that was such a way. Still a man, still a warrior."
"How progressive of you, Sir Olberic."
"Please, just Olberic."
Primrose giggled coyly. "Of course. Now, while we are on the topic of the Knights of Hornburg, why do you not share your own romantic interests."
At this, the warrior guffawed. "I am afraid there is none to be had there. Though I have had my occasional fancies as a lad, I never was in love with another. Being in service to Hornburg was my duty, and I put that before everything else. Including romance."
"As expected from a former knight. But now, you are unbound. Have you not thought of involving yourself with one you fancy?"
Olberic sighed wistfully. "There have been times, but never wholly. I have not found that woman who could match my strength, in emotion or physicality. A strong woman, one whom I could share my life with wholeheartedly, is what I desire."
"Hm, what interesting sentiments. You both have spoken of someone who we may well meet on our travels. After all, did that Teller not inform Ophilia of the seven other companions she was to meet?" the dancer asked to confirm her suspicions. Receiving a nod from the cleric, she continued, her voice dangerously smooth. "Then I will be on the lookout for any romantic intentions from either of you on the road, as we have three more fellow adventurers to find in our travels."
"As you wish, Primrose," Olberic responded, raising his glass to her in salute before downing the remainder of his pulque.
Before Primrose could follow-up, she was interrupted by Cyrus. "And would you tell us of your own romantic pursuits?"
The dancer choked on her drink. She brought her fist to her chest, trying to rid it of the unwanted burning sensation. Once she had regained her breath, and the others made sure she was okay, she retorted dumbfoundedly, "Mine?"
All present nodded their heads simultaneously.
"Well, I…
The dancer trailed off as she played with the end of her long brunette pony tail, sharp, analytical hazel eyes losing their edge.
"That is… something I would not like to discuss at the present," she admitted reluctantly, unhappy to have to hide a facet of her past life so quickly from her new companions. She turned away, expecting harsh retorts. "I am sorry."
Silence took over, but only briefly. It was not long before Ophilia spoke up.
"Do not be sorry. We all have things we would wish not to touch on, yet."
The words brought a look of disbelief to Primrose's face as her eyes turned back to her fellow travelers. What she saw was something that astounded her. Never, in all her years working under Helgenish, had the dancer seen such pure-hearted, transparent expressions. None at the table pressed her for answers, as she feared they would. When these questions weren't pursued, she feared they might look at her suspiciously. Even then, they did not.
They all understood.
They all knew her feelings.
They all respected her wishes.
It was enough to make Primrose want to cry. But she didn't; she held back her tears of relief, instead soaking in the moment while a giddy filling threatened to burst from her body. Repressing herself from acting out, she fell back on a smirk, showing her gratitude in smaller actions as she had shown herself these past years in similar fashions.
Tiny hints of emotion told much.
"Thank you. I am glad all of you feel that way," the dancer settled, a sense of relief mixing in with her giddiness.
"Of course, Primrose. We have to be here for each other, it will be a long journey, after all," Ophilia replied with her usual light tone filled with positivity. "Remember that if you ever need anything."
"I shall. Oh…"
The dancer, and her companions, turned towards the stage, noticing that the current duo had finished their own piece. Feeling a sense of gratitude, Primrose stood from her seat.
"Primrose?" Ophilia questioned, unsure what the new member of their group was doing.
Without saying a word, the talented dancer strode towards the stage, hips swaying seductively, arms moving subtly in a balancing act, and soft lips guiding those who watched to see her gleaming eyes. All of it was to captivate the audience surrounding her. Applause calming down, gazes repositioning to glean a better view of Primrose told her that any and all attention was now hers. She had learned to keep said attention as both a dancer and a daughter of House Azelhart.
Infatuating those before her, inspiring those around her; using her actions to allure, using her actions to call attention; speaking only when spoken to, speaking to earn the attention of those she spoke to. How a dancer used her techniques to receive the intended responses from the audience was oddly similar to how a daughter of a noble house was expected to act to earn the respect of her peers. The stage was the only difference between Primrose's two roles in life.
She smiled at the seemingly, unending dichotomy between the two aspects of her life. Everything she did to find her father was to better herself as the sole heir of House Azelhart. Only then had the young woman noticed such a similarity. It was comforting to know she still was subconsciously practicing to one day reclaim the title of Lady Azelhart.
Her feet lightly carried her up the steps to the back of the stage as she passed by the duet she had seen perform previously. They eyed Primrose scrupulously. She made a sound of amusement. Amongst all peers, it would seem, there were similarities.
Before she could become the head of her house again and return to Noblecourt, Primrose would find those men with the tattoos of the many aspects of the crow; she would avenge her father; and she would help those who would help her.
As the dancer thought on her new companions she found herself watching them from the stage. Making sure she had their attention above all others', Primrose rose her arms above her head, her legs' muscles ready to take their first step, ears attuned to the silence of the tavern that now poured all of its customers' attention into her. She took her first step.
Before all else could happen, she would dance.
In the hot, harsh Sunlands did Ophilia and company once again find a soul wishing to travel to accomplish their own goals.
Learning of the young Lady-turned-dancer Primrose's past, the group believed they would need to welcome her slowly.
Yet, she fit in quickly, allowing part of herself to be as truthful as they were with her; and to show her gratitude, she danced well into the night.
Sometimes, words cannot convey what others feel, but their body is more than willing to speak of their inner thoughts to those they care for…