Eight Intertwined

38 - Arianna

To say that the rest of the morning's meal did not go well felt like the understatement of the century. Primrose couldn't seem to force herself to eat anything no matter how important she knew that it was. She kept on thinking about what she was going to be doing later that day, plunging her dagger into the chest of one of her father's killers. She still kept expecting the other foot to drop with the rest of the group either leaving her or getting hurt. That seemed to be the typical pattern with her, didn't it? She was a magnet for all things rotten whether she wanted to admit it or not. 

And then there was Therion's damn warning. Primrose was glad that he had finally broken his vow of silence to speak up about something that wasn't a petty verbal stab at another member of the party, but that relief was dashed by everything that he had told her about in such a short time. Even just a few words could hold more power than anyone realized if they were used properly, and damn it, those were the last words that Primrose had been wanting to hear.

Primrose struggled to keep herself together as she thought about what was going to be happening next. Father crossed her mind on multiple occasions, simultaneously apologizing for mutilating the girl that had once been his daughter into something unrecognizable and detestable and praying for his forgiveness. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. It hadn't truly come together since Yusufa was still alive, and if one wanted to get truly technical, such a statement could also be applied to Geoffrey Azelhart's death all that time ago when Primrose was just a child trembling in the shadows left behind by a trio of crows and their endless wingspan. 

Primrose was standing outside the inn when she pulled her dagger away from its sheath at her leg. She had been keeping it there for years up to that point, the blade the only reminder of her father that she had been able to keep in her iron grip when House Azelhart fell away and she ran from the wreckage. Not a day went by that she didn't have it at arm's reach, hiding under her skirt or out in the open. It was the only way for her to feel close to the man who she could no longer touch or see anywhere but her own dreams, and on a fateful day like this one, she needed that more than ever before. 

Primrose's slender features came into view along the dagger's edge, and she had to wonder if there was a timeline out there where her father would recognize the woman that she had become. Primrose had been forced to kick the child that she had once been to the curb, unable to care for the trembling and fearful young girl that she had been the night that her father was killed. She had a greater mission, and little girls didn't go out on revenge trips. 

Her reflection was difficult for even Primrose to decipher, like there were just a few weather-worn wrinkles in her skin too many for her to fully comprehend what it was that she was supposed to be feeling. This was going to be one of the biggest days of her damn life, and yet, she could barely manage to keep herself focused. All she could hope was that her father was still looking after her from beyond the grave. A selfish part of her wished that he didn't hate her the way that she had feared in the silence all these years. A deeper part even still wondered if this revenge mission was more for her sake than his, a dark whisper that seemed to want to pull her apart at the seams on the eve of her first true triumph. 

After all, Helgenish's death hadn't been a triumph. It had been a tragedy, and he had been a monster. His death was justice on behalf of someone who didn't deserve to die, and to Primrose, it was just another person soaked with blood in what she knew was going to be a long line left in her terrifying wake. 

Primrose put the dagger back in its sheath when she heard the other members of the group come out of the inn, ready for their adventures. Primrose wished that she could tell them where the hell they were going, but the truth was that she didn't even know that much herself. Helgenish had spoken of Stillsnow, but there was nothing else for her to go off in terms of information. She hadn't asked him for clues, unwilling to yield any tidbits as to her true mission to the man who had murdered her one and only friend in the dismal sands of Sunshade. In other words, her first order of operations was going to be to search the town for anything that could point her in the right direction.