====October 22, 2013
====Hannah, Prymelia
====Prymelia seeks Hannah out with an idea she has for emergency Thread shelters, but the goldrider doesn't drive an easy bargain.

Who Hannah, Prymelia
What Prymelia seeks Hannah out with an idea she has for emergency Thread shelters, but the goldrider doesn't drive an easy bargain.
When There are 0 turns, 10 months and 27 days until the 12th pass.
Where Hannah's Office, Southern Weyr



Hannah's Office
Tucked away in the farthest corner of the large office the Weyrwoman uses as her own, this office is the smallest of the available rooms, but boasts a tiny little stone stairway that leads up into the darkness, towards the queen's ledges. When working, Hannah is not the neatest woman as piles of hides, stacks of books, and clutters of various other hidework-style things nearly overwhelm the desk and even spill over into the bookshelves that line one small wall. Claustrophobic already, the little den the young weyrwoman has made of the things she uses makes it even moreso. If one looks closer at the things that inhabit the room, it's not that hard to note that some of these things come from whomever had this office last… so many hundreds of turns ago.
The glowbaskets are lighted and brilliantly illuminate every corner of the room.
Prymelia is here.
Obvious exits:
Weyrwoman's Office Stairs

-- On Pern --
It is late night
It is 10:27 PM where you are.
There are 0 turns, 10 months and 27 days until the 12th pass.
It is Summer and 95 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.

Late afternoon has slid into dusk, temperatures falling into partially reasonable levels though the humidity clings. Hannah sits behind her desk, her office situated close to the Weyrwoman's office and her door remains partially open which allows the tiniest breezes to breach this cloistered space. Pale blond hair is piled up messily atop her head, spilling down her cheeks like moonlight, where a faint blush colors her cheeks — likely due to the heat — while green eyes remain trained on the hides in front of her. Attired cassually, her sleeveless blue top goes well with her white skirt, though the latter is hard to see given how she's sitting at the desk. "Shards." She scratches something out and scribbles something else..

With her water-avians all in a row, in as much as they can be, the time has finally come. It hadn't taken long to find out where the junior Weyrwoman can be located. A junior chosen rather than the more austere senior, Prymelia inhales a steadying breath, smoothes a hand over the neat braid swinging down her back, rechecks the small bundle of documents in her hand for the hundredth time and knocks on the wood of the slightly open door. This was it. The turning point of everything she'd been planning in secret behind Alberon's back. Do or die. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that grand stuff.

Stirred from her thoughts, which may or may not be directed to the hides she's scribbling on given that she's once again striking through whatever was written before, Hannah looks up, green eyes a touch owlish. "Come in." Now a mild sort of curiosity lurks for the person that would interrupt her work. But not before she crumples the hide and tosses it into a waste basket.

Pushing the door further open, Prymelia steps into the office just in time to see that hide land in the waste basket. A remark immediately springs to her lips but is schooled back in favor of the mission at hand. "Afternoon, Ma'am." So polite isn't she? "I was wondering if I could have a few moments of your time to put forward a proposal to you?" It comes out in a bit of rush though no too badly so. The young trader woman clad in a dove grey skirt, white blouse and black bodice to match her sandals stands with back straight and shoulders squared. Externally she's the epitome of calm whereas inwardly she's pretty sure she's about to throw up from nerves.

Hannah squints on eye at Prymelia as if trying to place her, but the smile she gives the trader girl is warm and welcoming enough — just forgive the slight distracted air to it. "Of course. Have a seat," she gestures to a seat that's somehow managed to not get piled high with various hide stacks, which is situated directly across the desk from where Hannah sits. "You are…?" It's a leading question, mostly because the junior doesn't recognize Prymelia, though that doesn't dim the friendliness behind her smile. "What proposal is this?" She might be angling to get Prymelia to sit so that she can stop craning her neck up at the girl. Maybe.

A distracted Hannah may or may not work in her favor. Prymelia is gambling on the former. The seat when indicated is taken and she sinks gracefully into it, arranging herself just so as if she were born to the Hold rather than traders. With the carefully tied bundle of documents set in her lap a faint blush flushes the apples of her cheeks for having forgotten something as basic as an introduction. "Prymelia, of the Flynn clan currently trading out of Igen Weyr." That out of the way she then sets the hidebound bundle onto the desk top and slides it toward Hannah. "My credentials." Such as they are. And then on to business. "Thread is coming," she begins in a grave tone, "but life must continue on. Travelers and traders," such as herself, "are going to still need to be out on the road." And there she pauses to allow the petite goldrider to catch up.

Distraction falls away after Prymelia's introduction; Hannah's attention is keen, searching Prymelia's face while fingers nimbly undo the bundle of documentation. "Well met, Prymelia. I'm Hannah," brows lift a touch, adding, "And you are far from home. What brings you so far south?" It could be a casual question, but a question nonetheless. As she rifles through Prymelia's packet, the junior gives the trader an encouraging look, silent request for the other to continue. She is definitely listening.

"Well met, Ma'…Hannah," the smile given is genuine and without guile. Prymelia's reply to the question is simple and given with honesty. "A chance to make my own way in life without having my road mapped out for me by the hidebound traditions of my kin." Contained within the packet Hannah will find a letter written in a scrawl that thankfully is at least legible, confirming the trader's claim to clan and signed by the clan's current leader, her father. Along with that is a manifesto of the few crates of goods she'd brought with her as well as what looks to be a five turn plan neatly laid out. "I would like to offer my services to seek out caves along the various routes down here and set them up as emergency Thread shelters, stocking them with whatever the Weyr can part with. Water, blankets and a basic medical pack to start with." The bait laid out, the line will be tugged when its taken.

Once Prymelia's papers of authenticity are glanced over, Hannah turns her attention to the trader, once again considering her. Green eyes look deeply, looking for the physical cues that one gives when one is laying out a plan. "We all want ot make our own way," she offers mildly, though doesn't eagerly snatch the deal up from the table. Savvier than that, the goldrider does listen to what Prymelia has partially outlined, letting silence fall as rumination occurs. "I'm listening." Encouragement, given from a look that's gifted from beneath pale lashes, for the girl to continue. The story's not done yet.

Prymelia hadn't expected it be an easy sell. A trader to the core her expression gives nothing away, save for the small smile and brief incline of head that acknowledges the prompt to continue. "In exchange for which," here it comes, the crux of the matter, "the Weyr helps me to procure and modify a wagon." Only then does she realize that she'd forgotten to remove her five turn plan from the small pile of documents. Hazel eyes dart toward it, a small sliver of tension slipping down her spine for contained therein, albeit carefully planned out, are the hopes and dreams of a young woman on the brink of creating her own destiny.

Hannah has not forgotten the five turn plan, her fingertips gently resting, splayed, on the hide that it's written on. Green eyes might even glance at it, but the poker face she's giving Prymelia makes it hard to discern just what the junior is thinking. "So you want to set up emergency Thread shelters, using the weyr's supplies in exchange for procuring a wagon?" Pale brows tick upwards. "And what exactly are you presenting will be your involvement in this? If all the supplies are coming from the weyr?" The questions are not unkindly asked, but little is given away in terms of reception (or not) of the idea.

Consternation greets the splay of hand atop her Grand Plan document. All Prymelia can do now is hope that Hannah hasn't looked too closely at it for there are certain aspects of it (such as the procurement of feline pelts) that are vital to her financial status (or current lack thereof). Forcing her gaze away from it, she gives a nod of carefully braided mahogany head confirming the goldrider's understanding of what is on offer. "I'll be the one going out there," in the wilds, "risking life and limb to find them and mark them on a map to bring back to the Weyr for distribution to travelers. At the same time, I'll be providing a convoy for those needing to explore further afield. Already I have a Miner-smith sent to search for a reliable source of firestone requesting to accompany me."

"So you are thinking of attempting to establish further trade lines?" Hannah's brows lift again, before drawing in to frown. However, not at Prymelia or her five-year plan; the desire for feline pelts is not new nor is it surprising. "Certainly," she continues after a moment, "Thread shelters would be ideal on established trade routes," because the Southern traders do have such tings, "where having necessary accommodations would be desirable." At the mention of someone wanting to search for firestone, the goldrider's frown deepens ever so slightly before she smooths her expression out. "Who else will be going with you? One of Aaron's miner's and … yourself?" No committment yet!

Prymelia having no idea of the origin of that frown misinterprets it. "Yes, Ma'am," determination sets across both her tone and expression. "So far my clan doesn't have a representative on the Southern routes. I aim to fix that." Unbeknown to either her father or her scowling chaperone. Encouragement is taken from Hannah's words that echo her offer then waivers just a touch toward the end. "And my brother, Daren. But he has a job here at the Weyr so he won't always be able to come with me. I've heard of a farmer that's interested in visiting some of the smaller cotholds." There the trader pauses then stoutly adds, "I ain't afraid of being on my own. I've done it before." When she attempted to run away from home at age 12 and that into the plush lands of Benden where no fierce predators roam. Moving on.

"You are free to build these shelters," Hannah starts to say slowly, though the frown is a thing of the past as the neutral expression is once again given to Prymelia. "However, to use the weyr's supplies will limit the bargaining power you think to have in regards to the wagon you'd like. Southern isn't a rich weyr." In fact, quite the opposite. "What I can do, in return for your services, is give you a marker to get what you desire at a discounted price from the woodsmiths. Aaron will be able to help you." However, there's a catch. Isn't there always? "In exchange for the use and supply from the weyr, you're to see Renalde, our Headman, to work off this expense. He will help you determine what will be sufficient for each shelter." Pushing Prymelia's documentation towards her, it's hard to tell whether Hannah read the five turn plan or not. "But if you truly seek to gain your own caravan here, with a foothold in the Southern Continent, you'll need us and you'll need to ties to the weyr. Emergency shelters will only carry you on the safety of a day. When it falls in earnest, the weyr is a valuable asset." She leaves that thought to hang, though perhaps she's merely guessing at the girl's long-term goals, but either way, Prymelia seems to have gotten tacit approval to start her project. "Go see Renalde." As a dismissal, it's not unkind, but something has disturbed the junior and to her thoughts she returns.

Prymelia would be sitting on the edge of her seat as Hannah speaks if it wouldn't come across as being the overly eager and nervous posture it would be taken for. Instead she forces herself to stay in place only the tight wrap of hands about one another given away the young woman's true state of being. Work off the expense? Dark mahogany brows lift and then drop into a frown of contemplation. Studying her hands in silence for a few moments, her hazel gaze lifts to the goldrider, youthful expectations having taken a bit of a batter but nothing the plucky trader will let hold her back. "Thank you, Ma'am. The discount will be much appreciated." She doesn't like the idea of having to work off expenses but she's currently caught between a rock and a hard place. The meeting called to a close, Prymelia stands, reaches for the bundle of documents and nods, "I will." She says of seeing the Headman. Her first encounter with the man having already struck an unnamed chord in her. "Thank you for your time." With that and a respectful dip of head, she turns and leaves, worry dogging her outward steps.
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