As Ophilia produces a seemingly endless selection of fabrics and completed clothing from her bags, Olberic takes the opportunity to excuse himself, citing a need to prepare for the day. Primrose watches him go, turning back when the door clicks shut to meet Ophilia's amused gaze. She raises one eyebrow at the blonde cleric who giggles helplessly in return. "Oh, come now, Lady, no need to be defensive. You are both lovely people, and I think it's sweet."
Primrose smiles slightly, shaking her head. "Clothes, Sister. I want to leave this room today."
Ophilia nods. "Clothes! So, I couldn't find anything as...well, nothing like your ah...dancing garb, not here, but I did find some really lovely pieces and with a little work, we could just-"
The dancer's mind wanders as the cleric natters on, holding up lengths of satin and airy linens in varying shades of red, violet, and black. Once, in a former life, the auburn-haired woman had adored shopping and trying on clothing. Her father had doted on her, employing a veritable army of seamstresses to dress her for every occasion, and she had loved every bit of the attention. As an adult, however, her life had taken a sharp turn, and the garments she wore were designed to draw a different sort of regard entirely. Primrose was confident in her looks and was very comfortable in her own skin, her clothes were always exquisitely tailored and left very little to the imagination. She simply took very little joy in the process anymore, and hadn't for some time. Ophilia, on the other hand, seemed to be relishing the prospect of dressing the dancer. Primrose decides to let her enjoy herself, contributing the occasional nod and smile while turning her nimble mind instead to thoughts of the crows and the next steps she would take in her mission to bring them down.
"...unless I have overstepped...? Lady? I'm sorry. I'll put it back. I just thought..."
At some point in her musing, her mask must have slipped. The cleric fidgets, staring at her. Primrose looks at the pale blue dress in Ophilia's hands and arches an eyebrow, extending a hand as she racks her brain, trying to recall what the blonde had been talking about. In her tavern dancer career, she'd found that people sometimes feel the need to fill the silence with chatter, and tend to reveal a lot more than what they might let slip under questioning. She employs that tactic now, turning the fabric in her hands with a non-committal "Hm."
"I mean, it's not terribly practical for a traveling outfit, but then neither was your ah-" She glances at the dancer nervously, but Primrose is examining the dress, "dancing...garb. I just thought the fabric flowed so beautifully, and that color reminded me of Sir Olberic's tunic, so-"
Aha, that's where she was going, then. "And you feel I ought to be wearing his lordship's colors now?" She holds Ophilia's gaze steadily, her expression unreadable.
The cleric squares her shoulders, steeling herself under Primrose's stare. "That's not what I was implying. I thought he might like it, yes, but I also thought you would look fetching in it. If you think it gives the wrong impression, by all means, keep living in his shirt."
Primrose's eyes widen slightly and for the space of three heartbeats Ophilia tenses, waiting for the dancer to lash out at her. Abruptly, she bursts into helpless laughter, leaning forward to hug the confused cleric. "Oh Ophilia, I'm sorry. I can't help myself sometimes, I'm just not used to people being nice to me without an ulterior motive. The dress is lovely, Sister. Thank you for going to all this trouble."
Ophilia relaxes, smiling warmly at the dancer. "Thank you for letting me." She rises, stretching. "Now then, I need to be off. I need to finish running my errands before we go."
"Go? Where are we going?"
Ophilia frowns. "Did they not tell you? No, I rather suspect they didn't. Therion and H'aanit got a lead on her master, they need to go to Stillsnow. I'm going along with them since I know the area, and I think the others are coming along as well."
Primrose drums her fingers on the table. "I see."
"I'm sure they just didn't want to pester you with the details, that's all. You had such a terrible trauma..."
"Mhm. That I did."
"...but now that you're recovered, I'm sure this was just an oversight. We wouldn't dream of leaving you behind, dear, you know that."
Primrose flashes her teeth at Ophilia, the expression completely lacking any warmth. "Well then, off with you. Much to do I'm sure. I'm feeling dreadfully tired again, I think." She turns away, draping the blue dress over her arm, and disappears behind the privacy screen without another word. Ophilia frowns at the brusque dismissal and departs, shutting the door firmly behind her.
The day slips by far too quickly for Olberic's liking and afternoon is fading to evening before he arrives back at the inn, arms loaded with packages. No one else in their merry little band seemed to have the forethought or experience to plan for provisions in their travels so it always seemed to fall to the knight to make the preparations. He had seen one too many innocent stranded and hungry on the side of the road to simply let things fall to chance as they wove their way back and forth across Osterra despite assurances that 'it would all work out' and 'there would be plenty of taverns along the way'. He trudges to his room, shouldering the door open and sets the bags down with a grunt. Part of him despaired of his companions ever maturing enough to take this mission seriously and properly prepare themselves for the road ahead, but he also envied them their youthful innocence. Though he was only 35, he felt decades older than most of the group. In fairness, most of them had had soft, sheltered lives up until this point; Primrose and Therion being the notable exceptions. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips at just the thought of the dancer. Brand's arm, man, get ahold of yourself. He shakes his head ruefully, planting his fists on his hips and running his eyes over the pile of supplies.
"Someone's been a busy little bee today. Going somewhere?" a familiar, sultry voice purrs from the doorway.
Olberic spins around, grinning. "My L-Prim. I was just thinking about you."
"You really ought to lock your doors, Olberic. You never know what sort of trouble could come to call."
He steps towards her, ushering her in and shutting the door firmly behind her. "My dear, if trouble you are, then you are the very best kind." He draws her close in a tight hug.
She slips free of him after a moment, turning to examine the pile of provisions with a frown. "So, what is all this then? Trying to escape me so soon?"
Olberic chuckles. "Hardly. Therion and the others are leaving for Stillsnow in the morning, I was getting them set up for the trip. You know how well that lot enjoys preparing for a journey."
She arches an eyebrow at him. "And you?"
"And I...? I don't relish the task, but I am far better suited to such a thing than Alfyn. Not nearly as complicated as feeding an entire army, but certainly more than-"
"That is not what I meant, Olberic. Are you going with them? Were you going to mention this to me?" She stares at him intently.
Olberic cocks his head, puzzled at the shift in her demeanor. Was she angry at him? "Of course not. That is...I'm not going, not without you. In truth, they had planned to wait a few more days until you felt up to the journey, but I suggested that that would not be necessary. Alfyn in particular was hesitant to leave you, but I assured him that you would be well cared for in his absence..." He trails off, carefully studying her features. Judging by the frost in her eyes, he had made a tactical error somewhere.
"Did you ever think to include me in any of your plans? Or am I a piece of property? Some delicate porcelain toy that you men need to pass around and protect?"
"Primrose." He stares at her, stricken. "Surely you know me better than that."
"Do I?"
He sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair. "Please. Let me start over. Everything came about so quickly in the last day or so, I fear I have gotten ahead of myself and did not included you in the decision making. I take full blame for it, and I am truly sorry for insulting you in the process. Will you permit me a moment to explain my actions?"
She nods slightly, some of the tension easing from her shoulders.
"Thank you." He proffers his hand, which she accepts, and he guides her over to the couch where they sit, their knees not quite touching. "The short version is that Therion came about a great deal of information at about the same time as Cyrus did. It seems H'aanit's path is heading towards Stillsnow, and the young thief appears to be aimed at Northreach beyond that. What Cyrus told me, however...I'd hoped you could help me, if you were willing, so I let the others believe that you wished to linger here and recover while they went north. It was selfish, and I understand if you think less of me now."
She frowns, nibbling her lower lip thoughtfully. "Help you with what? What did Cyrus learn?"
"Erhardt is in the Sunlands, in a town called Wellspring. It tears at me to turn away from the group, but I cannot go north knowing that he is in the south anymore than I can ask the others to delay their quests for the sake of mine. I've not been this close to him in all the years since his betrayal. I feel like the lowest sort of wretch for even asking you to go back to that corner of the world, knowing what you endured there, but..." He closes his eyes, steeling himself. "I feel stronger with you beside me. I should have asked first. I should have done a lot of things differently. If you decline to accompany me, I understand completely, but I'd always imagined this day: the day I'd finally confront him and put an end to all of my questions, and I'd always pictured myself alone. Lately, however, I imagine you beside me. In all things. This is all uncharted territory for me, so if I've bungled it, I can only apologize and promise to do better in the future. If you'll let me."
She stares at him in silence for a moment before leaning towards him, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him gently. Her lips are hesitant at first, questioning, but then she parts her lips slightly and deepens the kiss. After a long, breathless moment she breaks away, leaning her forehead against his. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have thought the worst right away...my track record with men has not exactly been the greatest but that is hardly your fault. How would you feel about giving each other a break on this one and starting over?"
Olberic exhales slowly. "Splendid idea."
Primrose hugs him tightly, snuggling closer to rest her head on his shoulder. "Olberic?"
"Hm?"
"I heard a rumor that Erhardt is in Wellspring, I had a mind to go look around. Would you like to come along? I know a thing or two about the Sunlands that might be helpful."
The knight laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "What a wonderful idea, I would be delighted to accompany you."
"Terrific. We might have a hard time finding provisions though, I hear someone bought out most of the market this morning."
He chuckles. "Oh, I think we'll manage. Lots of taverns en route to the desert, after all. We'll be fine."
