Primrose
She Must Always Be Perfect.
Young Primrose was only nine when she started acting in 1923, her mother having dragged her into it for her to be “enriched.” Since birth, she was an odd girl. She was a rather quiet baby, but the second she became a toddler, she was prone to fits of rage. It didn’t matter whether it was a shelf she couldn’t climb onto, something she wasn’t allowed to touch or chew on, or if she couldn’t have the rabbit sitting outside in the backyard– each one ended in screams and wails that exhausted her mother beyond belief. And so, after some time, her mother had tried looking for a hobby for her young daughter to take up to keep her occupied, lest she die from alcohol poisoning with how many she’d have to chug a day to get by. Though if she were frank with herself, it was to push some of the responsibility for her daughter onto another lady or gentleman who could keep her attention.
Her teacher, Garrett Holem, was a polite older gentleman who saw the potential in young talent like herself. He was a well-dressed man who appeared in his late 30s, though you may not know it just by looking at his clear skin and admirable stature. No crows feat. No stiffness to his moves in the slightest. Not even a single wrinkle. And when he spoke, it was as if every word was entrancing you to continue the conversation; he could’ve been mistaken for charisma itself.
Initially, Primrose was difficult to control– she whined and fussed and groaned, uncomfortable without her mother’s constant guidance. Holem took notice of her antisocial tendencies and knew she was going to be a handful, but that didn’t stop him. Initially, he had her sit back and watch the other kids perform and learn, both to see if she would grow an interest and to make sure she didn’t disrupt any of the others. This, as you may expect, did not fix the problem. But what did come out of it was the first words that came out of her, because up until this point, she had only made soft murmurs and the wailing sounds that were all too common with her.
“Bored, bored, bored….”
Holem picked up on those words, having left the other girls to his assistant while he spoke to Primrose personally. She flinched when he approached.
“Bored? Why are you bored, Primrose?”
Young Primrose hesitated for a moment, but her emotions soon bubbled over.
“I wanna go home! It’s boring here!”
“Do you think all the other kids are boring too?”
“Yeah. They speak weird. Especially when they play pretend.”
“Well… maybe you’d like to help them play pretend correctly, no?”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem like a very smart girl. Very emotional too. You know a lot about playing pretend, whether you think you do or not. So come on. Maybe you can help me show them all what they’re doing wrong.”
And that was it. A trigger.
