==== November 17, 2013
==== Aife, Prymelia
==== Aife meets Prymelia. The two talk on professions and skinny dipping while washing clothes.

Who Aife, Prymelia
What Aife meets Prymelia. The two talk on professions and skinny dipping while washing clothes.
When There are 0 turns, 8 months and 12 days until the 12th pass.
Where Laundry Room, Southern Weyr

Aife4.jpg Prym%2011.png


Laundry Room
Slippery pillars point past the pools towards the commercial cleaning… or what was once? Hard to tell, with the dirt and the crumbling cloth in the corner.
On the perch is Linne.

At this time of day, Aife should be working in the infirmary. Since she should be, that's likely the only reason why she's here, washing her dirty clothes. Her hair is in disarray about her face while she scrubs on a shirt, her things (like her bag) laying haphazard about her in the same manner. There's some laundresses on the opposite side of the room, well into their gossip for the day and paying the healer no mind. That seems to suit her just fine.

The weather outside is partly cloudy but still warm and bright. Right, and the moment Prymelia saddles Soot up and heads off down to ‘her’ lagoon to do her laundry and indulge in a suitless swim, it’ll probably come bucketing down again. Taking no chances, the mahogany-haired trader enters the laundry caverns and pauses to scope out the choice of pools available. While there are certainly some free, a new face (to her) takes her interest and so it’s in that direction she heads. Setting her bag down, she hikes up her skirts and kneels before extracting a bag of sweetly scented soapsand. “Hi,” the greeting is sent to Aife. “Come here often?” A grin fits lopsided to her mouth for having spouted one of the oldest pick-up lines that men will insist on hammering to death.

Aife is eyeing that shirt like it's grown horns when Prymelia arrives to the pool she's settled at. The greeting and the one after it has her sliding a look her way before she softly snorts and states loftily, "No, you will not be getting in my pants." Clearly a tease, right? Then she gives that dimpled smile of hers before adding in, "Hey. I am here often. Must be a quirk of the trade," and she drops the offending shirt back into the pool. "You?" she asks now.

Delighted is the tone of the laugh Prymelia rewards Aife’s retort with. She got it! “Men, huh?” Amusement still lingers in her tone as she begins to unpack her laundry dropping a handful of lacy delicates into the pool. “You’re a laundress?” The trader asks dropping a bemused look to the shoulderknot the other woman is sporting. “Not unless I absolutely have to,” Prymelia goes on to reply with a wrinkle of nose. “I prefer what nature has to offer.”

"You're telling me?" Aife gives in comaradarie, snickering. "I can give you a slew of those lines I've heard. I sometimes feel bad about laughing in their faces, too. Sometimes," and she lifts two wet fingers, positioned close together to indication how much of that 'sometimes'. Dropping those fingers back into the pool, "Oh no," she answers on her profession, shaking her head. "I think those ladies over there would have banned me long ago if I was. Healer," she gives easily enough. "Bang yourself up and I get to patch you up. Sometimes I'm the one banging someone up and patching all in the same day, but, I've been trying this new thing called not using my fists since I moved here." Prymelia's last garners interest in her gaze as she echoes, "Nature, huh? Either you're enjoying walking around nude, or you're a…?" She's openly looking at what clothes may be on display from the woman, trying to figure her own profession from that answer.

“Go on,” Prymelia prompts, a mischievous grin place, “what’s the best and worst you’ve ever heard?” A lacy white brassiere lifted from the water, scattered with the jasminey type soapsand and then gently massaged between her fingers. Wide eyes greet Aife’s explanation, hands stilling in their delicate task. Banging quite clearly means different things to different people. Lips open. Then close. Then open again. She just has to know. “Men…like that kinda thing?” Blink. The trader is that amazed that she almost misses the question put to her and she darts to answer it with a low chuckle. “Well, there’s nothing quite like taking a suitless swim in a stream or lagoon but no,” pointed the look that follows next when she latches onto the healer’s innuendo of her craft, “I’m a trader.”

Chuckling, Aife was about to answer on best and worst pick-up lines until she hears the next. Yeah, that could have definitely been taken the wrong way, and the erstwhile healer has to chortle loudly enough that the laundresses from across the way look over in her direction. Slapping her own knee, "All bloody and shit, doll," she clarifies, it clearly having been something hilarious to her. "Not banging. I mean. Some men do like that kind of thing though, but…" she's laughing again before she lets it subside. "Aggressive women," she adds on that front with an amused look as she returns to washing that shirt. "No, I have been known to beat people up and then patch them up. Trying to turn over a new leaf here. A trader, huh?" She regards Prymelia anew in the pause before nodding her head and tacking on, "Nice. I should've been a trader. I like talking to different people. I've never swam suitless before though. Being from Benden and all." She's definitely intrigued, yes.

Dipping the lacy brassiere into the water and giving it a thorough rinse, Prymelia reaches for what looks to be a pair of matching panties. But then Aife is about falling over with laughter. Dark mahogany brows twitch toward one another and the trader leans back on her heels again. “All bloody and….” Double-blink. Stare. What the….? And then the healer clarifies and Mel’s lips form a soundless ‘Ohhhh’. Ahem. Aaawkward. “Oh. That kind of banging. Beating up. Bashing.” She adds aloud as if to double-check she’s gotten the right of it this time. Quickly leaning forward again, a spill of rich waves streaked with sunkissed copper spill over a shoulder, conveniently hiding the blush creeping up her neck. The flimsy pair of panties receives the same careful treatment and are set aside with the brassiere. In short order several items of lingerie are laundered in the same manner and Prymelia cants a look Aife’s way, amusement flecking hazel eyes. “Never? You’ve never swum in your turnday suit? You haven’t lived until you have.” She declares. “Its wonderfully freeing.”

Inclining her head, "Not everyday I run into a lady with a dirty mind," Aife notes once Prymelia gets it, giving her a pointed and humorous look. "That's delightful. Don't even need to blush about it, doll," she adds, catching that expression despite her dipping down. Hands lift free before she says, "I'm definitely not one to judge. Name's Aife, by the way." She finishes on the shirt and drags in a pair of pants, the soapsand getting rubbed in as she continues with a shake of her head on the last. "Never," she states wistfully. "I clearly haven't lived. Needs to be remedied, I think. It does sound delightfully scandalous," which means she's totally game. "What do you sell? Maybe I'll come by and check it out, and you can show this lagoon you mentioned." She makes that sound enticing, yep!

Dirty mind…What!? Prymelia is completely and utterly mortified. "No, no. I misunderstood your meaning. I thought that-You said that…" She's digging that hole deeper isn't she? SIGH. "Nevermind. My mother's always said I should learn to engage my brain before I open my mouth. Prymelia," she offers digging into her laundry bag and adding several brightly colored skirts to the laundry pool. Let's hope the color doesn't run and turn the healer's things a delightful shade of mauve and green. "Fabric, exclusive ladies underwear," a few more items are listed, "and then I carry trades and messages back and forth for whoever hires me to do so. Currently I have a deal in place with the Weyr." A moments pause as she begins to give the muddied edge of a skirt a good rubbing and then she flips Aife an impish grin. "Tell you what, next time there's a break in the weather and rest days line up, I'll show you my lagoon." Her lagoon? "We can make a day of it. But no bathing suit." An expression of mock sternness tracking across freckled features.

Laughing, her dimples showing, "Uh-huh," is all Aife answers to that first, giving her a knowing look. "Well. Mine's always said that my ways were going to leave me with no husband and barren, so I guess that somewhat makes the two of us. Well met, Prymelia." She nods her greet towards her before she then studies the clothing on display and being washed with interest as the traderwoman explains. "Oooh, I'd love to check out the fabric you have!" she states, eyes a little wide. "Do you make the fabric yourself? Can you stitch? Your family is based here?" One question after another, the healer is engaged. The offer Prymelia sends her way brings forth a smile from her, bobbing her head as she answers, "Deal! I'll bring something else. A bottle or food or something. No bathing suit, promise. Healer's oath." Apparently that means something to her.

She may not be Prym and proper but she’s been reared in a close-knit, hidebound Nowtimer community that would be horrified to hear of the Wagonmaster’s eldest daughter thought of in such a light. And as for Prymelia? She merely sends Aife a wry look and in a very adult manner (not) sticks out her tongue at the healer. “Well met, Aife,” she returns before being met with a barrage of questions, the likes of which lighten her mood somewhat. “Mostly embroidery,” the trader returns on one of the questions, “and some of my own things but not nearly on the level of the Weavercraft. Some of the fabric is bought as it is and some of it, we dye ourselves.” A quick shake of head and a frown greets query of her family. “No, my clan are based in Igen at the moment.” She answers quietly and then the moment passes, more clothing is thoroughly washed and rinsed and a smile brightens her features. “You bring the bottle, I’ll bring the food.” Apparently, it’s a date.

Leaning back some, "I think I would really like to check out the fabric you have," Aife decides to say, seeming oblivious at the moment for any change of moods. "Not that I sew or anything. I could, but, not very well since I spent most of my turns at the Hall. Igen, you say?" Well, she notices the shift of mood then, her curiosity piqued, but then the date is set and she lets the moment pass with a nod and a, "A bottle, then. I know exactly where to get something good from. You let me know when you can, right? You can find usually in the infirmary, at the most."

“And I would love to show you,” Prymelia declares with a winsome smile. Wet laundry is wrung out and settled into a net bag. The pouch of scented soapsand is tucked back into the laundry bag and the trader leans back on her heels, readying to stand. “If you don’t sew, what do you intend doing with the fabric?” She asks setting Aife with a curious look as she gets to her feet.

With her clothes still soaking, Aife keeps to the pool as she inclines her head towards the traderwoman that stands. The question does get a curious pause before she answers lightly, "Well…I'm hoping to get something made out of it, I hope. A nice tunic or something. If you know anyone that can sew well, send them my way? I'll pay of course, though, at the moment my money is pretty low." It's something that clearly doesn't sit well with the healer by the crinkled look on her face, but it passes long enough to look back at Prymelia and say, "Anyway. It was really nice meeting you. Don't be a stranger?" Since it looks like she's about to depart.

Interest peaks when Aife explains her intentions. “You might want to try asking Donatien? He’s really nice. Seems to focus more on shoes but he might know someone whose willing to make a trade?” Slinging her emptied laundry bag over one shoulder and holding the netted one with damp laundry out to one side, Prymelia tilts her head at the odd expression that crosses the healer’s face but she doesn’t probe. Not now. A warm smile is offered the other woman’s way along with a quick bob of head. “Nice meeting you too,” she states looking genuinely pleased. “Fair skies,” is added and then Prymelia is threading her way out of the caverns and into the wide beyond of uncommonly blue sky.

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