==== October 23, 2013
==== Prymelia
==== Fleeing mortification, Prymelia faces the tricky path of her new life.

Who Prymelia
What Fleeing mortification, Prymelia faces the tricky path of her new life.
When There are 0 turns, 10 months and 27 days until the 12th pass
Where Hatching Galleries, Southern Weyr



Stone benches rise, black and showing the lack of polish from a thousand seats — by the look of it, these have not been used in… forever, if ever indeed.
Type 'help here' for info on how to view objects on the sands.
Below, you see a brown dragon.
On the perch are Mirmirsor, Chimaera, Prickler, Finian, Fiwa, and Valdi.
Obvious exits:
Ledges Stairs

Prymelia hadn’t gone far. In fact, she wasn’t even aware of where she was going until the sound of her footsteps started to echo back at her. That was when she finally paused in her helter-skelter bid to get away, breath coming in quick shallow pulls as she looked around the cavernous area she’d wandered into:

The galleries overlooking the hatching sands…

A dozen memories, sights, smells and sounds jostled with one another assaulting her senses in a vivid rush.

Never before had she seen anything like it. The crack of shells, the bond being formed between humans and dragons, the cheering of the crowds, the bitter disappointment of those left standing on the sands. It had been a cornucopia of sensation that had almost overwhelmed.

Tugging the borrowed poncho tighter about her shoulders, scents particular to its owner tantalized her senses. Her most recent faux pas roaring back to the forefront of her mind dragged a healthy dose of humiliation in its path.

It was one thing to deliberately flirt and entice with soft touches that spoke whispered promise of hedonistic indulgence to come but quite another to inadvertently do so. Especially when the one in question was so clearly out of bounds and Off Limits.

Dear Faranth, she had felt like such a fool. That look of reproach in T’ral’s eyes, the way he’d shoved his dragonet’s snout away from her ignorant hand. He’d told her it was okay but it really, really wasn’t. Even his dragon had offered a grating sound of reprimand after she had snatched contact away.

With cheeks aflame, Prymelia lifted an edge of the fabric woven in shades of dark and light green, swiping raindrops from her cheeks that had mingled with tears of mortification.

Perhaps her father had been right in keeping his clan separated from socializing with the denizens of the Weyr. At least back home she’d understood the parameters of life no matter how restrictive they may have been. She had a basic set of Dos and Don’ts and knew how to navigate the limits imposed upon her. Whereas here…

And then there was her Grand Plan - The one that was currently teetering on the edge of extinction. Yes, the junior weyrwoman had patiently listened to her offer, even going so far as to offer a marker toward discounted pricing on getting her wagon finished but having to foot the rest of the bill on her own was going to leave her up Shit creek without a fardling paddle. And with no one to turn to, the future was swiftly becoming a frightening and lonely place.

With a little over 3 months before she was to return to Igen and check in with her father, desperation was beginning to take bites out of her, gnawing at the edges of sleep, driving away rest with nightmares of her impending failure, condemning her to a life of drudgery and squalling brats hanging on her skirts.

No! Screw that!!

The young trader’s obdurate nature roared to the fore. She would not fail! She would find a way to succeed even if it killed her and given the dangers of the Southern wilds she was determined to venture into, it was a very real possibility. But at least she’d die having tried to make something of her life and on her own terms. People were depending on her to get it right. Daren was depending on her.

Standing to her feet, the poncho engulfing her so as to lend her willowy frame a waif’ish air, shoulders squared and her spine straightened. She was Prymelia of the clan Flynn, daughter to its Wagonmaster and mistress of her own destiny!

Watch out Pern, here she comes!!

Of course, there was still the dilemma of what to do about a certain blue weyrling but one thing she knew for sure:

She was never, EVER, going to touch a dragon again!!

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