Eight Intertwined

71 - Fallout

To say that the day had been a difficult one would have been an understatement. 

If Primrose was being honest with herself, she had no idea what she had been expecting to find when the group finally reached Z'aanta. Something deep down told her that it wasn't going to be good given how long he had been gone, but she had been hoping for the best that perhaps there would be some explanation for it all that didn't involve tragedy. Now, she was cursing herself for her past optimism and wondering what the hell any of them were supposed to do about it. 

The next step on this path seemed obvious: they had to find the seer known as Susanna where she waited in Stillsnow and use the knowledge they gained from her to pursue the beast known as Redeye. Everything about that plan was somewhat hazy, but it was still a general idea of what to do next, and Primrose was willing to take it. Still, knowing what to do next didn't change the way that her stomach churned at the thought. 

Primrose knew that she shouldn't have been so bothered by it all. She should have known that something bad was going to have happened to Z'aanta for him to disappear for so long, should have known that saving him wasn't going to be as easy as she would have hoped. It all felt so obvious in hindsight, but at the same time, Primrose couldn't forget the haunted look on H'aanit's face when they finally uncovered the truth. H'aanit had been hesitant for years to admit that she thought of Z'aanta as her father, and as soon as she recognized the truth for what it was, she was forced to stumble into Z'aanta as a statue with no easy way to fix his current state. Everything about H'aanit's face had read as pure grief, and Primrose felt sick just to think about it. 

Primrose knew that look all too well. She had seen it in her own eyes when she was still grieving over her father what felt like a lifetime ago now. She would look up at her own reflection with exhaustion written across her features, wanting to do something to make it easier but not sure as to what would even help. Primrose remembered swallowing dryly back then and trying to steady herself once more, but nothing ever seemed to work as well as she was hoping it would. Grief was never a simple process, and even Z'aanta wasn't truly dead--at least not yet--H'aanit was enduring it regardless. 

And Primrose had no idea what she was supposed to do to help. 

Primrose wasn't going to be able to just sit back and watch as H'aanit fell apart under the weight of it all. That just wouldn't be right, and Primrose refused to allow others to suffer as long as there was something she could do about it. Of course, that train of thought implied that she had a plan for what to do next, but the fact of the matter was that she was clueless. She had to try something, but where was she supposed to find a way forward? It felt like the world was deliberately keeping the best plan from her, and to say that she was frustrated was the greatest understatement to ever be uttered. 

She was on the verge of starting to pace through her and H'aanit's room in the Stonegard inn when she heard a knock at the door. Primrose immediately paused and rose to her feet. If it was H'aanit, then the huntress would have just walked in. In other words, somebody else was coming by for a visit, and Primrose couldn't help frowning to herself about it. 

The dancer rose to her feet and approached the door. She pulled the door open and saw none other than Ophilia standing on the other side. The blonde cleric was, in a word, distracted, staring down at her feet and refusing to make eye contact with Primrose. She barely even seemed to notice that the danger was letting her inside, too caught up in her own thoughts to realize. 

"Ophilia," Primrose greeted simply, and at long last, she was able to get the cleric's attention. Ophilia's head whipped up as she finally met Primrose's gaze, though the dancer continued before Ophilia could find the words to fill the silence. "Is there something wrong?"