==== October 26, 2013
==== Prymelia, Aaron, Kultir
==== Prymelia runs into a recently returned Aaron. Further trades and offers are made whereupon Kultir arrives with a package that thrills her magpie heart no end!

Who Prymelia, Aaron, Kultir
What Prymelia runs into a recently returned Aaron. Further trades and offers are made whereupon Kultir arrives with a package that thrills her magpie heart no end!
When There are 0 turns, 10 months and 18 days until the 12th pass.
Where Living Caverns, Southern Weyr

Prymelia.jpg Aaron kultir2.jpg


Living Caverns
Living Caverns
Grand and spacious, the cavern curves high aloft in naturally-vaulted ceiling that soothes any sense of claustrophiba. Rich woods line the cavern floor, varnished and stained a rich mahogany, while round tables scatter about candlelit and intimate. The largest table lies southerly next the sideboard, long trestles that seem oriented to providing for the weyr's youngest. The rich blue of Azov can be seen from a distance in good weather, when the heavy stone doors covering the entrance are allowed to stand open.
On the perch are Tullamore Dew, Filly, Sphinx, Chicanery, Berm, Tart, Rhiannon, Madonna, Shank, Nymph, Berylla, and Pest.
Aaron is here.
Obvious exits:
Nighthearth Inner Caverns Kitchens Bowl Infirmary

It's been three sevendays. There has been chaos in the Smith Wing as various factions vied for control, along with a near-rebellion amongst the Apprentices. A couple days ago, though, news came from the north that Things had Transpired, and that Aaron was on his way back to Southern Weyr. And today? Yup, he actually showed up today, noticeably paler then when he left and, if the rumors are to be believed, rather angrier too. This late evening, though, finds him sitting in a corner of the living caverns, a large mug of klah and a shiny silver flask in front of him on the table, both being ignored in favor of a notebook and a pencil.

Aaron’s presence had been sorely missed due to the efficient way he keeps all under control in the Smith Wing. His absence noticed and felt by a certain trader who upon gathering together an accounting of expenses being accrued for Renalde had almost torn her hair out with frustration when she’d found herself bumped from pillar to post. Eventually, she’d gotten what she needed, handed it in and left on a cloud of anticipation. Entering the living cavern with steps as light as her heart, suggesting that perhaps she’d perfected the art of walking on air, a mug of klah is prepared, a dash of something alcoholic added to it – it’s a celebration folks – and then she’s looking for somewhere to sit. Wide the grin that sets to her lips when the big smith’s hulking presence is noted and it’s in that direction she automatically turns. “You’re back!” Prymelia announces, mistress of the obvious, her smile bright as Rukbat.

Aaron looks up with a rather dark scowl at the interruption, but when he sees who it is the scowl turns to a smile. "Well well, if it isn't Prymelia. Come to collect that beer you're going to sell for me?" he asks, chuckling. One big foot lifts up off the floor, and he pushes out the chair across from him with the tip of his toe, gesturing her into the chair with his hand. "I'm back, and very glad to be. I'd forgotten how cold Telgar could get this time of the Turn. Have a seat, won't you? You look like you've got some good news that you're dying to share!" He tucks the pencil into the notebook and shuts it, sliding it off to the side before taking a sip of his klah.

A scowl Prymelia is well acquainted with thanks to her glowering uncle who is currently involved in a game of cards with a couple of seacrafters in the tavern. But a man Aaron’s size wearing such an expression is a tad frightening. She hesitates, lingering on the fringes of invading his space, hovering next to a chair. Uncertain. Relief dawns like the sun slipping from behind the clouds when Aaron smiles. The chair toed her way is taken up a husky chuckle greeting his. “I could do with some cold after all this heat,” the trader-woman admits and then positively beams. “I’m good to go!” She announces, spine straightening with the importance of it all. “As soon as I get the Headman’s report on my expenses, your people can finish off my wagon.” The one she’d ordered without a clue of how she was going to pay for it. That announced, the expression Aaron had worn earlier is tentatively addressed. “Things didn’t go well up north?”

Aaron tilts his head a little. "You mean to tell me that you didn't have a wagon yet, m'dear?" he asks, trying not to laugh. "Just how were you planning on selling all that tasty beer then, hmm?" he asks, teasing. "I'll look into the… progress tomorrow, and make sure that there weren't any corners cut /there/," he says with an angry glance at the notebook. "I'm glad to hear it, though. I'm sure you're anxious to be going, eh? Telgar was cold enough that when we first popped out of ::between::, I wasn't sure that we were actually out. I spent 12 Turns of my life there, you'd think that I'd remember the cold, right?!" A slight pause, and then the big man sighs. "They're not happy with me, no. Not the least bit thrilled that so many of the 'old' methods are better then our 'new' ones, and even less happy with the fact that I'm openly taking female apprentices. But…. It could've gone worse. I think they'll come around eventually.

Sheepish the expression that flickers across her expression, partially obscured when Prymelia lifts her mug to savor that first sampling sip. “The wagon was ordered, I just…” cue the confession delivered in an awkward tone, “wasn’t sure how I was going to pay for it.” Blush. As for the beer her smile is a little less enthusiastic than before. “I’m not going to be able to trade your wonderful brew for the first four months. The Headman says I’m to play errand girl for the Weyr but,” excitement weaves back again, “after that, I’ll take as much with me as I can carry and you can make!” Lapsing into attentive silence while Aaron explains the source of his discontent, there is nothing but sympathy and a fair streak of indignation in her eyes. Lips press about a tight line and brows dip inward in imitation of his earlier scowl though by no means as intimidating. “Its tricky being Nowtime when a lot of the Oldtime makes so much more sense,” she quietly comments.

Aaron chuckles softly, as he's no stranger to customers with unusual financial arrangements. "'Sa bitch, isn't it? You have to have money to make money." He takes another sip of his klah at the news about his beer, then shurgs. "I oughta have some liquor ready to go by then, too, if you're interested," he says, sliding the flask across the table. "I stopped by Igen on my way back down here, and that's some of the last of my product from up there. Give it a try." He just chuckles at the Trader's scowl, nodding. "Aye, it is. I rather tend to ignore most of our contemporaries, though, and they're not to fond of me so it makes the task rather easy." Aaron and Prym are in a far, but well-lit corner of the living cavern, sitting across from each other, her with a mug of klah, him with his own mug, along with a notebook and the flask that had just been slid towards the trader.

Kultir slips into the caverns, satchel still riding his hip though his pack is dropped at the entry. The young man moves slowly toward the trestles, gathering a plate of foodstuffs and not being picky about what it is or whether it's supposed to be hot or not. A large mug of klah is poured out and the whole bunch balanced carefully as he turns to scan the nearly empty caverns for a chair. He smiles wearily as he sees Prymelia and then recognizes the large bulk of the Smith with her and heads in that direction. "May I join you?" he asks when he reaches the table, gesturing to an empty chair across from the Smith.

Liquor? Prymelia perks!! “Always!” She declares and wraps slender fingers about the cool metal of the flask. She wastes no time, the lid is unscrewed and the flask put to her lips. Despite how careful she is about the sip taken, hazel eyes round when the potent brew slides across her tongue and down her throat, almost stealing her breath away. “Wherry-balls! That’s…” pause, consider the taste, “delicious! Count me in.” To what Aaron replies on the matter of Oldtime versus Newtime, she lifts the flask in salute thereof and utters a soft snort. “My father would have me flayed if he knew what my true intentions are down here.” Attention is diverted away from the touchy subject when Kultir arrives. “Kultir!” Her chin lifts and head twists back. “Of course.” Beat. “You look exhausted.”

Aaron smiles as Kultir shows up, shaking his head. "Not at all, lad, have a seat. And when the lady is done with that flask, help yourself to it. I promised you a drink or two after all, didn't I?" He grins broadly at Prymelia's reaction to the drink, chuckling. "I'm no Vinter, but a bored Smith can be a dangerous person. That I can get you at four marks a fifth, and it's about three quarters alcohol. Half mark deposit on the bottles, but, like with the beer, I'll not collect that from you." Hey, it's a good offer, right? Of course. Words of unwitting parents get a snort from the big man. "It's funny. My folks have no problem with the fact that my sisters work the fleet shoulder to shoulder with my brother, but they think it's wrong of me to have female apprentices…" The big man sighs, shrugs, and takes a long sip of his klah.

Kultir cocks a shoulder slightly as he inclines his head at her comment and settles into the chair after they both agree. "The first clear day in a seven? I've been out a while, checking things out." he murmurs vaguely as he tucks into his food as if he's never seen it before. His eyes sparkle at the reminder and nods. "You did at that. I'll take you up on that offer too, after the tumbles I took today … I could use a little painkiller." The youngster returns to his food, quickly but neatly clearing his plate.

Another sip from the flask is enjoyed, a grin of appreciation spreading Prymelia’s lips. “I think you may have missed your calling,” she teases setting the flask down and sliding it over Kultir’s way. “I may have to ensure I always have a bottle of that in my personal supply. What do you think, Kultir?” The offer she’s being offered by Aaron sets keen mind whirling, cogs engaging and numbers crunched. A nod is given highlighted with a smile of appreciation. “Thank you, Aaron. Right now I’m grateful to take whatever small dispensation I can find.” On the matter of family, that scowl threatens to return, hazel eyes rolling expressively in response to what the big smith shares of his own. “A duel of double standards.” She remarks. “The married women of our clan are allowed to trade in the bazaars while those still single…” hidden away in the camp presumably far from the prying eyes of randy dragonriders. “I did my father’s books for him but that’s as far as I was allowed to get involved.” But then Kultir weighs in on his day and immediately she looks chagrined, sure they’re as a result of the deal she has with him. “Are you okay?” Hazel eyes do a quick inventory of what she can see of the hunter.

Aaron chuckles softly. "I heard about the storm, glad I didn't try to come home in /that/." Yup, after almost a full Turn of visiting, and then living, in Southern, this is home. "You know, Kul, the kitchens /will/ give you travel food, if you ask the right people. I could introduce you tomorrow, if you'd like." As Prym passes the flask over, he grins. "Now, for you? First bottle's free. Stop by my office tomorrow and I'll give you one. I've only got about a dozen left from up north, but I'll have the first batch down here distilled before too much longer. And I'll float you a loan on nails and runnershoes and whatnot too. The cotholders always need nails and such." That's Aaron, a businessman if Pern ever saw one. "Aye…. Double standard it is. Total dreck." And that's all he's going to say on that.

Kultir eyes the flask momentarily before taking it up for a pull. The burn in his mouth, the licking fire down his throat and the warming heat in his belly make his eyes light with pleasure. "Mmm, that's good. Better than a lot I've tasted." he comments before returning to his food. He can't really afford to be drunk now … but a stiff drink to dull the aches of the day can't hurt. A grin is turned toward the Smith as the boy chuckles. "I do take travel food with me. It just doesn't last long with the distances I cover and the amount of climbing around I do. I've been told I expend a lot more energy out there than I can take in with the travel rations." He shrugs slightly as he finishes off the last few bites and sighs with relief now that his belly has stopped complaining.

A laugh, soft and husky lifts up when Aaron announces the first bottle of her personal stash to be free. “Such a charmer,” she says. Because free booze equals charm, right? It does if you’re Prymelia. Once again hazel eyes widen, this time at the Smith’s generosity. “Really?” Overcome by a wave of gratitude, the trader is up and out of her seating and flinging her arms around Aaron’s neck even going so far as to plant a happy kiss on the top of his bald head. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!” Beaming she returns to her seating and takes up her klah as if this were quite the norm for her. Which it is. Just ask Renalde. Kultir’s comment about the food she consumes draws a short laugh from Prymelia, “Remind me to carry double when you come along with me.”

Aaron chuckles softly, nodding at Kultir's words. "It's why I make sure that I'm never far from a hearth. There's to much of me to carry enough food for." As if that's not evident. "Well, if you want to see some energy expended, you should drop by the Smithy tomorrow too. I've got some folks that I am going to absolutely /smoke/ over the crap they pulled while I was gone…" Prym's gratitude is met with a laugh and a pat on her arm while she's hugging him, nodding. "Hey, you're the first trader down here. That means that I have to help you get on your feet, so I can make some money off of you." He laughs again, grinning.

Kultir chuckles softly at Prymelia's antics and then again at Aaron's offer. "I'd love to, sir, but I have traps ready to be checked tomorrow. Speaking of which, Prymelia, I have something to show you." he says, pulling his satchel onto his lap. A small packet is brought out and set before the woman and then a greyish-tan, thickly furred pelt which is settled next to the packet. Raising an eyebrow at the Smith, the young man grins and shakes his head slightly. "She's a pretty good trader too. She's got me getting pelts for her, you letting her sell your hooch … who else you got with fingers in your trades?" He gives the woman a sly but teasing look.

Warmth suffuses Prymelia’s expression, gratitude continuing to linger. If she was walking on air before now she’s positively floating! Just a seven ago her future was looking extremely bleak but now, thanks to the kindness of the Weyr’s denizens, hope was rushing in and filling every nook and cranny of her being. A laugh, light and free. “Next I’ll be needing a guard to protect all the pouches of marks I’ll be bringing in.” The very tiniest hint of wariness appears when Kultir opens his pack but just as quickly its gone as she reminds herself of the logic in the argument he’d made about having to take a whole family unit out. Klah is set carefully to one side and fingers of her nearest hand sift through the soft fur, luxuriating in the tactile sensation drifting beneath them. “Oh Kul, its gorgeous. So soft.” She declares. The pelt isn’t one she can recognize though. “What is it?” Is asked his teasing comment answered shortly thereafter. “Anyone who can offer me a good deal,” she says with an impish lift of brows.

Aaron grins and nods. "Pelts are always helpful, and we've even got us a tanner here now. Right useful fellow he is, too." Not to mention total eye candy to boot. At Prym's mention of needing a guard, he just shakes his head. "Oh no, that one's simple. You just let it be known that some of those marks are /mine/, and that I have a /very/ vested interest in making sure that I get them all." Because really? Who wants to piss off the giant man with a bunch of over-muscled underlings and a history of violence?

Kultir returns the big man's grin and shrugs. "I haven't met him … didn't even know we had one in the Weyr. I learned tanning 'bout four turns back. Got a lot more to learn but … I don't do too badly." he says gesturing to the pelt Prymelia is fingering. "Mustelid … found a colony of wild ones down by the river. Set out some snares and that's the first so far." He nudges the packet closer to the woman and smiles again. "Check out what's in there, see if you can use them somehow." He laughs at the Smith's comment on how to guard the marks she'll make and nods. "I wouldn't like to have you comin' after me if I'd had the audacity to skive off with some marks you'd invested." A long draft of his klah is taken, a soft sigh sounding as the young man stretches his legs out under the table.

Aaron is lent a grin for the fierce declaration he makes. "Show me that scowl of yours again?" She teases, interest perking at mention of a tanner. "Does this useful fellow have a name?" Asked as the package Kultir had set down with the pelt is slid in front of her and opened. When the brilliant array of colored feathers are exposed, Prymelia's mouth quite literally drops open in surprise. A magpie to the core, drawn to anything colorful and shiny, slender hands tremble when she fans them out. Trapped in visual overload, Kultir's reply on the origin of the pelt is given a mute nod. With reverent care, one of the feathers is lifted and brushed against her cheek then slipped behind an ear, hues of Kingfisher blue highlighting the deep mahogany tones of her hair. "I…don't know what to say.." Struck dumb by the unexpectedness of it all and with wonder etched across her face.

Aaron takes a sip from his own klah, nodding. "Aye, his names Donatien. He's actually a Weaver, but he specialized in footware, and learnt tanning out of that." Because it's always easier to get good leather when you make it yourself, right? He just grins at the affirmation of his scariness, shaking his head. "Eh, I'm mostly harmless. Not everyone knows that, though, and it's useful from time to time." He gives Prym the asked-for scowl, then just watches with a chuckle as she's suddenly engrossed in the feathers.

Kultir ahhs softly as Aaron comments on the tanner's identity. "I've met him. Didn't realize he was a tanner though. Thought he was just a Weaver that made shoes and boots too. Might have to ask him for some pointers when I get stuck." he says thoughtfully. His eyes sparkle as he watches her delight in the feathers and shrugs slightly. "I just figured if they was looking for stuff that's different … those'd fit the bill." he says with a soft laugh. Drawing another long swallow of his klah, the youngster relaxes a bit more, slumping in his chair.

Jerking herself out of the oh-so-bright-and-shiny allure of the feathers, Prymelia snickers. “Your secret is safe with me,” she tells Aaron then goes on to add a short laugh. “Oh Donatien! Yes, I’ve met him. Not bad looking for an older guy.” Ha! She just called you old, Dien! “He gave me these sandals,” the trader adds, slipping a foot out from under the table to show the boys. Not that they probably care. But guys. Shoes!! Focus! “It didn’t cross my mind that he’d be able to tan to leather. Guess he had me sort of distracted.” Cue the sheepish grin. By the shoes but that may come across as something else. “I’m pretty sure the Weaver Hall is going to love these,” that to Kultir, “I think I’m going to show them to Donatien and see if either he or his sister might be interested.” That she’ll keep a few for herself goes without saying.

Aaron leans back in his chair, getting comfortable, and just nods. "Ayup, he's a tanner too. He's doing, or /was/ doing, some gloves for me," he says, holding up one huge hand. "Hopefully he didn't think I wasn't coming back…" Shrug. "Aye, he's a good man to have around, and he'll probably be interested in those," he says with a nod to the feathers.

Kultir glances at the sandals and smiles, not his style but … maybe for her. "I've been trying to work out a technique I was shown in Telgar, I'll have to talk to him about it." is offered distractedly, watching her toy with the feathers. "I got a basketful of packets in the weyr for you, that's just a sampling. Got six more of these pelts stretching too. They'll be ready as soon as they've been trimmed … few days yet."

“Maybe I can wangle a new pair of boots out of him for Daren,” Prymelia quips with an impish grin, scooping the feathers into one hand and fanning them with a delicate flutter in front of her face so that hazel eyes flirt just above their colorful tops. “I could pass as a Lady Holder with these. What do you think?” Clearly teasing going by the giggle that follows. Round eyes again when Kultir reveals there to be more feathers on hand. “You have more!?” Life just couldn’t get any better! Well it could but…Off Limits!! Ahem. “It would be helpful if Donatien could give you a few pointers so that you can prepare the hides while we’re on the road.” She agrees. “Which reminds me. I’ve been given the Weyr’s backing so I’ll be heading out soon,” this to the hunter, “Or as soon as Aaron here is able to kick butt and get my wagon finished up.” Cue the sweet smile sent the Smith’s way. “Have you spoken to your ‘mate yet about going out overnight?”

Aaron listens to the talk of furs and feathers, just sipping at his klah and reacclimating to the sights, sounds, and smells of Southern. As he's brought back up in the conversation, he just chuckles. "I'll let you know how bad it is tomorrow. It seems that the apprentices were getting three or four different sets of instructions in my absence…" Mostly because said absence was sudden and unplanned, but that's not really an excuse, now is it? "I'm sure we'll get you squared away nice and quickly, though." Even if he has to cancel some people's restdays!

Kultir heaves a soft sigh and shakes his head. "I haven't yet, been trying to get back some skills I lost while I was a Candidate … didn't realize how much practice it takes to keep some of 'em, figured they were habit by now." he murmurs with a shrug. "And yes, I have more … been netting and snaring the avians during the rains." A grin goes to the big man with a nod as the man explains why there'll be a great expenditure of energy the following day. "I did notice a bit of … frenetic activity going on when I went through there a few days ago. Just goes to show that it takes a strong hand to guide them, eh?" Draining the last of his klah, the boy frowns and goes to find more, returning to his seat as quickly as he is able.

Aaron is awarded an understanding smile, laced with sympathy for the task ahead of yanking apprentices back into line. “Too many Wagonmasters not enough clansmen,” she gives with a wry smile. “And thank you, Aaron. I don’t want to put you under yet further strain but the sooner I can get out there the quicker I can see about setting up shelters before Thread starts to fall.” Without lending thought to the fact that her klah has now cooled beyond drinkability (is that a word? It is now), Prymelia takes up her mug and swallows a hefty mouthful. Her expression and the shudder that goes through her says it all – EWW!! Shoving the mug away from her in distaste, Kultir is next to garner understanding when he returns. “Look, I understand if you’d rather not be away from her with the babies on the way. I’ve been told of a farmer that might be looking to catch a lift so don’t worry about not being able to come with me until after the babies are born. In the meantime, you could stay here and work on the pelts and feathers, aye?”

Aaron chuckles a little, shrugging. "Some have the talent to guide, and some don't, I suppose. Certain of my fellow journeymen work very, very well, as long as they're kept in a certain role, and as soon as they get /outside/ of that role they bugger things up magnificently." He laughs at Prym's summation, nodding. "Exactly like that, aye. But, it'll be done and life will be sweetness and light once again." He perks up a little at mention of babies, and sighs. "Kultir, I'm a terrible person. How /is/ Kalea doing?"

Kultir blushes as the woman hits the reason behind his hesitation in broaching the subject on the head. "I … hadn't wanted to ask her. She's been alone in this long enough as it is. It's bad enough I'm gone most of the day, she's not had a good night's sleep since I've been back, so I'm not sure how long that's been going on." he says, noticing her grimace of distaste and pushing away her cold klah. Pushing his steaming mug toward her, he drags her cold one toward himself. "I'm not sick so … drink up before that one gets cold." He smiles and shrugs slightly at Aaron's question. "Like I said, she's not sleeping well. The babies are moving a lot, keeping her awake and uncomfortable. Otherwise, she's not doing too badly. At least so far as I know." He doesn't mention how stubborn she's being about the work she's doing in the kitchens and where ever else they assign her.

Babies. Sweet little things with soft skin, little milky mouths and downy heads. BUT. Sooo not for her. Nope. Prymelia has plans! Ones that offspring simply don’t fit into. Or so she believes. She is however able to muster a look of sympathy both for Kultir and this weymate of his, shuddering internally at thought of having another human being living within her and wiggling about. It just somehow seems…wrong. Aaron’s comment is easier to focus on. “My father says exactly the same thing. If he weren’t so hidebound, you’d probably like him.” But then there’s no ignoring the topic of pregnant women especially not when the ‘mate of one is kindly offering her his hot klah. Such a sweetie, Kultir is! Gratefully it’s taken up with her listening in silence to the conversation between the men as she sips at its contents only interjecting to state with a small smile. “Then you need to focus on your lady and we’ll revisit your coming with me once all has been said and done.”

Aaron nods softly, sighing. "And they way they've got her working in the kitchens probably isn't helpful. Poor dear." He shakes his head, a look of disgust plain on his face. "I don't blame her for wanting the kids now in the least, just so you know. I was kind of hoping that Kat…" but then he shrugs and trails off. Prym's comments about hidebound fathers gets a laugh. "There's a lot of folks that I'd like a lot better if they weren't so stuck in their ways, I suppose."

Kultir smiles gratefully at Prymelia for her understanding and nods. "I appreciate your patience. I will do what I can … when I can, of course." he says in explanation. "I just don't think I'm going to be taking off till after the babies are weaned and can be placed with the nannies. She'll be going back to wing duties and flying Fall as soon as she's allowed so … one that will leave me to care for them." Not that he doesn't want to, the young man is just a bit nervous about the whole situation. Another smile and nod is slanted to the Smith as he mentions the brownrider. "I'd heard rumors. I was rather sorry to hear that she wasn't. Though … I'm a bit biased on that score, eh?" He sighs, still wondering how he can get his mate to stop working so hard and rest more.

When Aaron almost expresses a hope, a woman’s name starting to be said, she tilts her head and regards the big smith with quiet interest. The wistful air is noted and tucked away for later contemplation. Instead his comment earns him a lopsided grin. “One day they’re going to wake up and see that it’s those very attitudes that are keeping them from moving forward with the rest of us.” The forward thinkers such as themselves. Speaking of which. Forward thinking requires planning and she still has a lot of that to do yet in revising her Five Turn Plan. Draining the contents of the mug Kultir had given to her, the scald as the hot brew burns down her gullet and into her belly, welcomed, the trader stands gathering the packet of feathers and the soft pelt up. Kultir’s explanation confirms her every doubt about spawning offspring. They divert attention from Plans! “Thank you for thinking of these,” she says lifting the packet of feathers. “I love them!” But now I’m afraid, I must bid you both farewell for the night. It takes a lot of sleep to maintain this much beauty.” Dryly given with a spark of teasing mischief dancing in her eyes for the self-indulgent comment as she turns and heads out of the living caverns.

Add a New Comment