Eight Intertwined

39 - Oren

Primrose didn't know exactly what it was that she was going to do to prepare for their journey to the brothel. However, she could say one thing certainly: this was going to be the biggest fight of her life up to that point. After clawing and scraping her way through existence for the past ten years, she was finally going to be able to reach the apex of everything that she had been working toward. She wondered if she was ready for this. Part of her was while the other half denied such a statement firmly. That did a fine enough job of summing up her thought process, at the very least.

The group was starting to walk back to the rest of town--no doubt off to buy a few extra healing items for the sake of the battle at hand--when Primrose noticed that Alfyn was unable to stop fidgeting on the spot. He was relentlessly pulling at the sleeve of his jacket, his gaze cast down to the snow below. Primrose frowned as she slipped back into pace with him, examining everything about him carefully. "Alfyn, what's the matter? You can't seem to stand still," she commented carefully.

Alfyn perked up suddenly, only seeming to come to his senses when he realized that Primrose was next to him. "Huh?" He looked at Primrose for a moment, bringing his eyes into focus at long last. "Oh, shucks, sorry. It's just so cold up here... I was born in the south, and me and the cold, we don't get along too well."

Primrose frowned at him. He wasn't shivering in the slightest, and his warmer clothing was already doing a fine job of ensuring that he wasn't too chilled in the bitter wintry air. He was lying through his teeth, and he wasn't doing a particularly good job of it. Primrose was good at knowing when others were putting on a show being a performer herself, and she could see the way that his smile was lopsided and half-hearted. She still didn't know what it was that was going on to fuel this strange complex of Alfyn's to begin with, but she could say for sure that there was a crack in his facade that was starting to leak anxiety all over the snowy ground below.

It didn't take that long for Primrose to come to a conclusion though. "You're thinking about the brothel, aren't you?" she questioned. Alfyn started as soon as the words came out of her mouth, and Primrose simply pressed her lips together. "Thought so."

"Sorry," Alfyn apologized with a nervous smile. "It's just... I've been thinkin' about all those poor girls... They deserve better than to have to be forced into something like this, you know?"

Primrose looked down at the snow. "Yeah... I guess so," she murmured. She didn't know what she was expecting Alfyn to say in response, but it made sense. The longer that she thought about it, the more convinced she was that the look that had appeared in his eyes when the subject came up was sadness. He felt awful on the behalf of those who had been dragged into this with no choice, and he couldn't seem to silence his anguish on the matter regardless of how hard he tried.

"B-But we've gotta stay focused. The crow isn't going to be defeated on his own, you know?" Alfyn asked even though it was clear as could be that Primrose already knew the answer to be negatory. Still, he looked at the path ahead. "We're gonna be fine. We'll be out of here in no time. I'm sure of it."

Primrose offered him a small smile, pretending that it was much more genuine than it actually was. "Yeah... You're right," she whispered. She watched Alfyn for another long moment before he started to walk a bit faster, no doubt anxious to get this over with sooner rather than later. After all, the sooner that they defeated the man of the crow, the sooner that they would be able to free the women who had been taken into the brothel. They had a clear path ahead of them, and Alfyn was more desperate than ever to follow it to the end.

It was only after Alfyn had already gone off to focus on buying their next batch of supplies that Tressa came sliding up into Primrose's peripheral vision. The dancer looked down at the young merchant at her side with a light frown. There was clearly something on her mind, but unlike Alfyn, Tressa didn't allow herself to succumb to her nerves, instead asserting her inquiry loud and clear. "Primrose, what's a brothel?"