Even during the hours of daylight, Sunshade was scarcely a place that people wanted to visit. Everything about the town screamed that there was something wrong, a little hint at something uncanny that lurked in the shadows. It came in the alluring sway of the dancers' hips as they performed the show of their own survival, the voices of the men who pretended to be decent before slipping into something disgusting when night fell, and the shifting eyes of the merchants who deliberately turned their gazes away from Sunshade and its secrets. Everyone could pick up on it, but scarcely anyone had the pride or confidence to voice it.
Nighttime brought with it all sorts of extra challenges though. The truth of Sunshade's brutality became all too clear, and it was notable why there were no children within the town. The underground excuse of a society was mysterious at best and terrifying at worse, and Primrose was glad that there were no young children forced to endure the brutality of the town. The youngest occupants of the town were often the dancers, and Primrose chose to avert her eyes from such a fact to keep from wanting to kill Helgenish all over again.
That was why it caught her by surprise when she encountered a young girl outside of the dormitory where she and the other dancers lived. Her hand was about to grace the knob when she saw the young girl spinning around proudly for an older man who was likely her father. They held themselves with such pride and wore clothes that were far from being customary in the Sunlands, making it loud and clear to Primrose that they were visitors for the night rather than official occupants of the town. She knew that was for the best, as she wouldn't wish Sunshade's horrors on anyone.
"Papa! Papa! I'm going to be in a play!" the little girl chirped, her light brown ponytail swinging back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm exclusive to the joys of childhood. "I will be the beautiful princess, and everyone will look at me! You'll come and watch too, won't you?"
"Of course, my dear," the man replied, approaching his daughter and placing one hand on her shoulder. He smiled as laughter burst free of his daughter's lips. She was barely able to contain her excitement, and the pride on his face was precious when it appeared beside the young girl's joy.
"Many thanks, m'lord!" the girl said, bowing her head deeply before sweeping back up to her normal height, the actions all poetry in motion. She started laughing again after she dropped the mask of her act. "How was that?" The man opened his mouth to respond, but the young girl prattled on without even waiting for an answer. "And guess what, Papa? When I grow up, I'm going to be a beautiful dancing girl-the star of the stage!"
Primrose did her best to hide the way that her shoulders knotted themselves with tension at those words. She had once danced before her father after being taught a particularly difficult move. Primrose's mother had taught her father before she passed away many years ago, and he took it upon himself to pass the movement onto his daughter. She could still remember the way that he had beamed down at her as Primrose declared in her youthful naivete that she would come to be the star of every show. Geoffrey had simply smiled, unaware as to the true brutality that such a title could bring to her. Primrose had certainly fulfilled her promise, but it was far from being in the way that she would have liked. Helgenish was not the one who she wanted to dance for each night. Even if the performances were for her father, Helgenish was the one benefitting from her shows, and she detested him for it with every bone in her body.
When Primrose managed to drag herself back to reality, she could see that the young girl's father had grown pale. "A dancing girl? That is a dream best forgotten," he advised her. Primrose could have sworn that he shot a glance over in the direction of the tavern, but his expression was firmly unreadable.
"But why, Papa?" the young girl asked, her eyes brimming up with tears at the shattered dream that she had been granted. She couldn't seem to believe that her father had betrayed her in such a way as to suggest that she couldn't accomplish such a task, unaware of the true motivations behind his words.
The man paused for a long moment before continuing. "Helena, my dear. You want to grow up to be a fine lady, yes? Like the princess you will play?" he prompted, shifting the course of the conversation effortlessly. His daughter, Helena, nodded furiously in response. "Then it would be better not to say such things. Not in this town, at least..."
"But what's wrong with dancing?" Helena pressed, her lip starting to quiver as she arrived on the verge of tears. "It's so much fun!" She glanced around the area with a frown, trying to find something that she could use to help her argument, before her eyes found Primrose. She let out a gasp before a smile appeared on her face. "Look at her! She... She's beautiful..."
Primrose forced herself to appear as if she wasn't staring. She managed to correct herself just in time as the man looked in her direction. If Helena noticed Primrose's strange behavior, she didn't mind it. Instead, Helena wandered over in Primrose's direction, prompting the brown-haired dancer to lean over, pressing her palms against her knees. "Hello, child," Primrose greeted kindly. Helena admired her costume with wide eyes, clearly understanding that Primrose was the very same dancing girl that she dreamed of being. In response, Primrose pivoted on the spot, flicking her hair back over her shoulder as she became the picture of elegance and grace that Helena admired so.
Her father simply scoffed and shook his head. "Come now, Helena. This way," he instructed of his daughter. Helena walked back to his side. "I'll tuck you into bed back at the inn. Papa has business to attend to this night." He began to walk away, Helena skipping alongside him, energy renewed at her encounter with Primrose.
The dancer continued to stare at the man and Helena for a long time, trying her best to ground herself once again. Along the way though, the man turned around to look at Primrose. She finally came to understand everything that had previously been impossible to comprehend about his gaze. He had been hiding it when his daughter was looking, but as soon as Helena's back was turned, the truth came out.
The man's supposed business was at the tavern with the very dancers that he had criticized for being degenerates. It was ironic in a way that made Primrose feel sick. He had told his daughter to not grow up to become a dancer, but he clearly intended on indulging in the very services that he forbade his daughter from carrying out. Helena didn't understand the weight that her words carried in Sunshade, but her father most certainly did. Primrose pretended that she didn't taste blood under the bottom of her tongue at the man's behavior.
Instead, she simply turned around to face the dormitory once again. "I suppose I should get back to my own work," she murmured. Her fingers closed around the knob, and she walked inside, pretending that she had a handle on that which was out of her control. That was part of the performance, after all, and she wasn't about to let such an illusion slide free of her grasp.
When Primrose walked into the dormitory, she was met with the familiar faces of the other dancers. They had likely gotten back into the dormitory while she was focused on the conversation between Helena and her sickening father, and Primrose wondered just how much she had lost herself in bitter reminiscence. Amice, Gisella, and Cateline stopped talking briefly to stare at Primrose with a frown forming in their eyes, but they shifted back to one another seamlessly a beat later, not seeming to care that she had arrived at all. Yusufa watched Primrose from the far side of the dormitory, her eyes wide as she did her best to stay away from the other three dancers in the room.
Primrose sat down on the floor to reach out for another sandal. She removed the one that she was wearing and set it aside before allowing her foot to press against the ground in her search. Pain shot up from the bottom of her foot, and she let out a gasp of pain before pulling away. For a moment, she was aware of how suffocating the silence in the room was, and she realized that the dancers had stopped their chattering to stare at her. She couldn't see them, but she knew that the trio of dancers that had made her their enemy were glaring in her direction. She could feel their judgement from across the room.
Primrose's fingers abandoned the search for the sandal to drop to the base of her foot. She fiddled briefly before finding the source of her pain. It was a small thorn no longer than half of her pinky finger, but it was still more than mighty enough to cause significant pain. She pulled it free of her skin and saw that there was blood on the bottom of her foot and the thorn between her fingers. She stared at the crimson liquid that was dripping over the sides of the thorn, and Primrose was glad that she had never been the squeamish type.
"Oh, someone fetch a handkerchief! Primrose seems to be bleeding, the poor dear," Amice declared, holding one hand up to her forehead in a gesture that could only be described as the apex of dramatization.
"Perhaps she got a blister? She's always dancing so passionately," Gisella chimed in, her eyes filled with the same sense of malice that Amice's gaze held. She started to laugh, and Amice and Cateline joined in a moment later. They went back to their conversation without wasting a beat, leaving Primrose to sit on the ground with blood still dripping free of her injury. Primrose held one hand beneath the sole of her foot to ensure that she didn't leave stains on the carpet, fully aware of the punishment that Helgenish would bring down if she did anything to damage the elaborate and expensive purchases that he had made.
Primrose was so focused on not getting blood on the carpet that she didn't notice Yusufa was standing over her until she heard the other girl's voice. "Are you alright, Prim?" Yusufa questioned, looking down at the other girl with eyes brimming over with concern.
Primrose hoisted herself off the ground and onto the bench, still cradling her foot to keep from getting blood anywhere that it shouldn't have been. "I'm fine. It's nothing I haven't dealt with before," she replied. It was true that this was more of an issue than she cared to admit. The other dancers of Sunshade despised her because of how much Helgenish blatantly favored her. Even before Amice, Gisella, and Cateline, there had been others who hated Primrose with everything that they had. It was nothing new, but that didn't change the bitterness that came with being antagonized by people who should have realistically been her allies when it came to combatting Helgenish and his habits of abuse towards her and the rest of the dancers.
Primrose must have shown a bit too much weakness though, as Yusufa pivoted on her heel and faced the other three dancers in the room, rage boiling over in her eyes. "Don't you think that's enough already? Do you take such pleasure in others' pain?" she questioned, her voice directed squarely at the trio of dancers nearby. All laughter halted immediately as the girls turned towards Yusufa. "We're all the master's playthings-all of us! And we all know what happens to the girls who displease him. Or have you forgotten? Beaten half to death and tossed in the gutter. Left for dead, sick and starving."
Yusufa's brutal honesty was too much for Cateline, and she took a step forward in fear. "S-Stop that!" she cried out, refusing to meet Yusufa's eyes because of the sheer terror that had overcome her body. "We all know well enough where we stand. We know what he can do to to us!"
"Then why torment one of our own?!" Yusufa snapped back, not at all deterred by Cateline's moment of vulnerability and fear. The air remained heavy after her outburst, and the dancers just stared at her, uncertain as to what was going to come next.
Primrose shook her head as she approached Yusufa, though she only did so once she was sure that no blood would seep onto the carpet. The small injury had been taken care of, at least for the most part. "Thank you, Yusufa. But there's no need for you to make foes on my behalf," she assured her companion.
"Prim..." Yusufa said, her voice little more than a small whimper that was barely audible above the stifling silence that filled the room. Amice, Gisella, and Cateline all stared on in bitter silence.
The door was thrown open before anyone could say anything else, and Helgenish stampeded into the space. His face was red from anger, and everything about his posture screamed that he was dangerous and not to be trifled with. "What are you doing, yowling back here?! Sheathe your claws. It's time for work!" he announced. He got close to Amice, nearly pressing his face against hers. "Or do you think money flows into my coffers by itself? Get out there and collect your tips!"
Amice shoved her head down and scurried for the door, Gisella and Cateline hot on her heels. Primrose grabbed a sandal and went for the door as well, knowing that she could put on her shoe after she had left. Yusufa was halfway out the door when Helgenish's arm stuck itself out in front of Primrose, halting the brown-haired dancer's escape immediately. "Not you, Primrose. You stay," Helgenish instructed. Yusufa gave a final glance of concern to Primrose over her shoulder before leaving. Primrose reached down and slid her foot into her sandal as quickly as possible, not bothering with the details. She wanted to be able to leave as soon as the chance arose and her conversation with Helgenish was finished. The idea of being around him made her want to be sick, even more so than most nights.
Primrose watched carefully as Helgenish wandered deeper into the room, and she followed him from a distance, not wanting to accidentally prod his growing anger. Unfortunately for her, he seemed to explode on his own terms. "What was that sorry show you gave today?" Helgenish questioned, his voice low and threatening, each word bringing with it the promise of something dreadful. When Primrose didn't respond immediately, he snarled. "Do you think I'm blind? One glance was all I needed to know your mind was not where it ought to be. I can see every thought in that pretty, empty little head of yours-and they were not of dancing tonight."
Primrose kept her eyes as even as possible, unwilling to give up the show. Helgenish could convince himself that he knew all that he wanted to, but Primrose was fully aware of the truth. She was going to destroy him one of these days, and she wouldn't hesitate when the moment arrived. How could Helgenish read her every thought and still keep her around when part of her always seemed to dream of stabbing him with her dagger and watching as he writhed around in pain?
"You haven't forgotten your debts now, have you? You haven't forgotten who owns you," Helgenish went on, leaning in close to Primrose's face to ensure that the words sent a shiver running down her spine. "You know the fate that awaits you if you dare defy me. Don't you, kitten?" Primrose simply nodded, and Helgenish's hand came up to cup at her chin in a way that was so beyond uncomfortable that it made her want to twist his wrist until it snapped. "I'm warning you because I care, Primrose. I wouldn't want to see anything untoward happen to my shining star."
Primrose took a step back and looked down at the ground before raising her eyes once more, allowing an expression of pure apology to cross her face. "I'm sorry, Master. Forgive me," she told the man, keeping her voice in a low, careful drawl that she knew he would be unable to resist. Being able to play him was part of the game, and she knew better than to let go of this advantage that came with his blatant weakness. "I was simply remembering the first day I came to you." There was one other little push in the right direction that would shove Helgenish closer to her favor. It was far from the truth, but it was keeping her alive, and that was what mattered.
"Oh, were you now?" Helgenish questioned. He still didn't seem to be buying the words, and that just meant that Primrose was going to have to push a little bit harder in order to fully seal the deal.
Primrose nodded in response to his inquiry. "Not a day-not a moment passes when I am not thankful for all you have given me," she told him, the words dripping like poison off her lips. "Pray forgive my lack of focus today, Master. It will not happen again."
"Oh, my dear, dear Primrose..." Helgenish cooed next. Primrose's scheme had worked, it seemed. His hands pressed together behind his back as he approached the window to the dormitory, staring out at the street on the other side of the glass. "I, too, often think back on the day you came to my door. Just imagining the sight of you dancing for me, as sweet and innocent as you were... It tickled me so. And you met my every expectation. You have been my best investment... But tonight, you have displeased me. And for this, you must atone. The crowd is looking thin tonight. Out on the streets with you, and bring us some custom. Custom with coin enough to cover a week's expenses. If you can do that, I may still... Go easy on you. At least relatively so, kitten."
Primrose bowed into a deep curtsey. "You are too kind, Master," she said carefully, keeping a carefully-crafted smile on her lips. Helgenish smiled in twisted satisfaction before gesturing for her to leave, and she left the dormitory behind a moment later.
She nearly collided with someone as soon as she left, and Primrose found herself face-to-face with none other than Yusufa. The dark-haired woman's face was overcome with concern as she glanced back and forth between the door and Primrose. Beyond the agitation though, there was relief in her gaze. "Bravo, Prim! That was a performance for the ages," she complimented. "How do you do it? I want to vomit every time I have to call him 'Master.'"
Primrose didn't know how to answer that without giving away the truth of her mission. In fact, she didn't think there was a way to respond to Yusufa's question honestly without betraying everything that she had been working towards. She was silent for a long moment, pretending that she didn't feel Yusufa's inquisitive gaze on her, intent and unyielding.
In the end, when Primrose did speak, it was to change the subject and take the attention away from her. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out collecting tips?" she questioned, glancing over at the nearby crowd.
Yusufa hesitated before offering her response. "I was worried about you. How is your foot?" she asked, gesturing down to Primrose's injury.
"What?" Primrose replied, admittedly caught off guard at Yusufa's sudden well wish regarding her health.
Yusufa didn't wait for a further explanation, instead reaching into a pouch that was hidden beneath her skirt. The dancers often used it for storing coins, but Yusufa seemed to have something else there as well. "Here. Use this," she said as she held out a small handkerchief in the direction of Primrose, a careful smile on her face.
"A handkerchief?" Primrose questioned, still unable to fully rationalize what was happening. She eyed Yusufa with confusion, almost as if she expected the other woman to give up her secrets if she probed silently with enough force.
Yusufa, however, did not respond with an explanation the way that Primrose was hoping for. "Be careful out there, okay?" she instructed carefully. She walked away a moment later, seemingly suddenly aware of how much she had missed out on regarding pay for the night already. She was gone with the crowd a short while after the fact, leaving Primrose to just stare in ghastly shock.
Primrose took a moment to lean over and clean her injury with the handkerchief. She didn't understand why Yusufa was being so kind to her about this. What reason did Yusufa have to be nice to her at all? Primrose was hated by the rest of the dancers, so why did Yusufa feel differently? It didn't make any sense to her. It would have been so much easier for Yusufa to side with the other dancers, making the majority her allies rather than her enemies, but she stood by Primrose no matter what happened. Primrose truly didn't understand, and part of her wondered if she would ever find a way to comprehend what was going through Yusufa's head.
It wasn't until after Primrose had tucked away the handkerchief in her own hidden pouch that she adjusted her sandal's straps, finding that she felt much better after cleaning the wound on her foot. She had spent enough time focusing on other matters for the moment though; Helgenish wouldn't be satisfied if she wasted too much more time wrapped in nostalgia. That was what had gotten her into this situation in the first place, and she had to find a way out of it. Finding a customer that would pay well was her priority. All she had to do was find some sucker that would be able to pay quite a bit of gold when he slipped up and indulged in a bit too much wine. It was her only thread of salvation at that point, and Primrose wasn't about to give it up.
The show that she put on for Helgenish was a matter of survival, of close encounters with danger that she had learned how to escape over the years. The performances that she put on for others were always with the intent of receiving as many leaves as possible for the sake of fueling Helgenish's coffers, another facet of her unfortunate life in Sunshade. The next show was bound to be something a bit different, but she was going to execute it the way that she had learned to regardless.
She found a man dressed in fancier clothing within the town's square, and Primrose could tell immediately that he was going to be an easy mark. She allowed her hips to sway a bit more than usual as she approached him carefully, making sure that every part of her body contributed to a perfect image of grace and maturity that the customers of Sunshade had come to adore. "Lovely evening, isn't it, m'lord?" she questioned. When the man looked in her direction, Primrose continued. "Mayhap you'd care to share it with me?"
The man shook his head, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with her. He seemed to know that as soon as he looked at her for too long, his previous plans would crumble like dust. "A tempting offer, but I travel on business. I must depart early on the morrow," he explained.
"It must be a fascinating sort of business that you do. Perhaps you could tell me more over a drink?" Primrose asked, recovering from the initial blow as quickly as she could manage. "I'd love to get to... Know you better." She walked towards the man, placing her palm against the nearby post that was holding up the awning of the stand that the man had been observing prior to her arrival. Primrose had come to understand the angles that her viewers liked best over the years, and this was a perfect way for her take advantage of his poorly-hidden weaknesses.
"I-I am most afraid... I cannot..." the man stammered, taking in the full beauty of Primrose's appearance. He was doing his best to appear as if he still had a grip on his composure, but Primrose could tell that his control of the situation was starting to slip, and all she had to do was circle in before dealing the finishing blow.
"I dance at the tavern just down the street," Primrose went on, her voice low and sultry. She gave a nod of her head in the direction of the road to the tavern. "I'd be happy to put on a show... Just for you. Admit it. Wouldn't you care to spend a little more time with me?"
The man was unable to hide the way that he tripped over his words when he responded. "Oh... Oh my... I cannot resist such beauty..." he admitted. He looked up to meet Primrose's eyes, and it was in that moment that his fate was sealed as yet another victim of Primrose's alluring behavior. His urge to fight back against her actions had disappeared, leaving behind a hollow shell that scarcely knew how to protest in its place.
"Pray come hither..." Primrose whispered, gesturing for him to follow her. He nodded and trailed in her footsteps as she led him down the streets of Sunshade. The shoppers at the market were all watching her from afar, infatuated with her beauty but too intimidated to grow nearer. Primrose figured that if she could lay the groundwork while she was with her first target of the night, then it would make it much easier for her to return later in the evening to pick up other customers. After all, this was merely the first act of the show, and she had to be there throughout every scene of her performance. Such was the way of Sunshade, after all.
When Primrose arrived in the tavern, the other dancers were already there. Helgenish was standing nearby, and she was immediately aware of his eyes on her. The customer beside her was escorted away by Gisella, who offered to seat him. The businessman sent one last glance of yearning in Primrose's direction before he followed Gisella, clearly still expecting Primrose to follow up on her promise. She gave him a small wave, and that was enough to satisfy his needs for the moment, allowing him to retreat soon afterwards.
"Yes. That one's pockets look sufficiently deep," Helgenish commented as he strolled over to Primrose's side. "Good work, kitten. You will be treated well tonight." He didn't reach out to touch her because they were in public, but his eyes still made it clear what was crossing through his mind.
"You honor me, Master," Primrose said, keeping her perfect smile spread across her lips for just a few moments longer.
"The seats are starting to fill. See that not a single cup goes empty," Helgenish instructed of her, jabbing one finger in her direction commandingly. He turned on his heel and departed a moment later.
Primrose got to work once he was gone, and she approached a table that held a few of the regulars of the Sunshade tavern after picking up a pitcher of wine from the bar. "Good evening, gentlemen," she said, putting on her best mask once again as she filled their glasses to the brim in an elegant motion that she had mastered over the years.
"Ah, Primrose. You're looking more and more lovely each time I see you," one of the men said with a smile that was nothing less than perfectly sincere despite its drunken edges.
"It's been a while since we last enjoyed your company. Will you be with us long this evening?" Primrose questioned. At one point, years ago, she would have found it unsettling that she was able to slip into this mask so easily, but she had come to understand what it meant to survive in Sunshade over time, and it no longer bothered her as much as she would have once assumed.
"As long as you'll have me for, my dear," the man replied as he took a hearty swig of the glass that Primrose had just refilled. His smile seemed to grow even more unsettling with every drink that he indulged in.
"Is that so? I'll have to give it some thought then," Primrose said, giving him a playful wink and a mischievous smile. The man laughed, and Primrose picked up her pitcher before retreating from the table once again. "I'll see you again later."
Primrose was on her way to the next table when she heard a voice that she didn't recognize among the frequent patrons of Sunshade's tavern, and it was a miracle that she didn't drop the pitcher in her hands to the ground. Instead, she simply froze, trying to determine if this was actually real or not.
"And if that's all, I'll be taking my leave."
Could it be?
It was.
There, on his left arm, was the mark of the crow. Primrose would recognize it anywhere, and his voice was a familiar one that had haunted her every nightmare. Years had passed, but she still knew exactly who that man was, and all she could do was stare, her mask shattered in one simple motion.
He was there.
Update time! Woohoo!
In all honesty, I didn't know when I was going to be able to get this chapter out, but here we are regardless! I got the second shot of the vaccine yesterday, and I felt absolutely awful for the first thirty-six hours or so, but once that passed, I found myself on such a sudden energy high that I had to sit down and write. I may or may not have gotten through half of this chapter in a single sitting within the span of forty-five minutes. Oops, I guess?
Primrose's story is easily my favorite out of the bunch in Octopath, and I'm enjoying writing for her as well. I want to throw Helgenish into a wood chipper, though I guess that's just part of the Octopath experience. This chapter generally speaks for itself, and it made me fall in love with Yusufa all over again. Man. Oh no.
Next time that we're here with an update, it'll be time for the rest of the gang to show up in Primrose's life as we get ready for the dungeon run. Until then, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Feedback is appreciated as always. Have a nice day, everyone!
-Digital