==== October 30, 2013
==== Prymelia, Nora
==== Prymelia runs into Nora with an armful of stubborn mattress cover. The two chat during which an offer is made. Be afraid, be very afraid!

Who Prymelia, Nora
What Prymelia runs into Nora with an armful of stubborn mattress cover. The two chat during which an offer is made. Be afraid, be very afraid!
When There are 0 turns, 10 months and 6 days until the 12th pass.
Where Inner Caverns, Southern Weyr

Prym%205.png Nora15.jpg


inner_caverns.jpg

Inner Caverns
Inner Caverns
Unlike the mazelike caverns of other weyrs, Southern's innards are blessed with prolific growth of wild glows, cultivated to light the vaulted archways as to seem as daylight when uncovered. Soft and pleasing to the eye, the golden-lit halls are a mix of rough-hewn walls and carefully-carved architecture, beautiful in execution. All passageways are well-kept, though some show more use than others: those corridors terminating in the baths, the latrines, and the living caverns.
To the west, you see one person.
On the perch is Fritti.
Obvious exits:
Guest Quarters Laundry Playroom Latrines Hallway Living Caverns Baths
Nora walks in from the Hallway.


It's a usual day, late morning with people bustling about, finishing up their early tasks and getting ready to trundle off to lunch — there's already the sound of diners beginning to amass in the living cavern. At least it's sunny and clear outside today, so the caverns don't have that congested feeling of people trapped indoors and the floor isn't coated with the trackings of wet boots. But even so, Nora is wearing a vaguely harried expression when she steps out of the playroom. Everything is still intact - her white skirt clean, not a hair out of place, but the tension of that most dangerous cavern does leave a touch of strain around her mouth, which she now endeavors to shake off by pausing and taking a deep breath, glancing down over herself to make sure there's no evidence of jam-hands or finger paints.

Having been up since just before dawn and spent the majority of the morning working on the mattress cover that had soaked overnight in redwort, Prymelia is about at the end of her tether. The blasted stains simply won’t budge!! Fair skin flushed both from the exertion of it all as well as Rukbat’s persistent kiss, she’s come up with a Plan. One that’s going to involve the help of a certain….And there she is as if summoned by Faranth herself – the assistant headwoman. Making a beeline for the agitated looking Nora, the trader offers up an expression of deep empathy, knee-high midgets are simply horrid are they not!? “Assistant Headwoman,” she greets puffing at tendrils of hair escaped from her headscarf and now tickling at her nose. “Just the person I was hoping to find!” She declares, arms draped with the obstinate cover.

Nora is just about to step away from her self-check when Prymelia's call pulls her up, eyebrows high and a solicitous smile slipping readily into place. "And here I am," she greets in return with a lilt, even as her eyes start to pick over the flushed complexion, flyaway hair and the piles of that mattress cover in the other woman's arms. "What can I do for you?" A hand reaches toward the cover, since she might be over-accustomed to people shoving housewares at her, but there's something absent and perfunctory about it. "Want me to burn this?" she jokes with a quiet laugh.

Amusement lights hazel eyes and Prymelia shakes her head, a wry chuckle spilling. “Oh believe me, as soon as I can get another, I’ll build a bonfire and make a party out of burning this one. You’re invited if you bring snacks with you.” Grin. A glance at the mattress cover imbued with a distinctly clinical smell clinging to it. “It was the better of the ones I could find in the stores.” Accented brogue edged with a silent lament. “I’ve soaked and I’ve scrubbed until my fingers are raw,” a slender hand wriggles free from beneath the burden to show knuckles rubbed red, “but to no avail. There is but one path left now. Dye!”

Humor twists Nora's mouth. "Oh sure. I know what that means: 'bring snacks for everyone.'" She could roll her eyes, if any of this was actually serious, but then if it were, maybe snacks for everyone wouldn't be a bad idea. But she doesn't roll her eyes, she just lets the flash of a wide grin round her thin cheeks, at least until she snags a bit of that mattress cover, holding out a floppy fold of it to get a look. Then the smile fade quite quickly. "This was the best you could find? That is a disturbing though." And one that already has the wheels turning behind her eyes. "It's an awful lot of effort. Why not just cover it with a blanket and be done with it?" But then, she does catch a which of that medicinal odor. "Unless it's the smell you're trying to rid of. What is that stain?"

“Okay fine. Just us then. We’ll make it a girl’s night out.” Because she and Nora are bosom pals and haven’t just met. “It was a disturbing sight,” Prymelia returns on the state of the mattress covers available in the stores. “Oh, I know! If you can point me to enough dye, I could dye all of them! It really doesn’t take long. Just a few small vats of the stuff and some twine and no one will ever know what they looked like before.” Oh dear, watch out Weyr, garish mattress covers loom on the horizon. As for the smell that’s noted, the trader lends the assistant headwoman a sheepish look. “Given that the stain looks like someone had an orgy and then threw up, I think I’d rather not know for sure. I uh…I soaked it overnight in redwort just to be sure.”

Alarph glides in from the Living Caverns.

Alarph fliies in, does loops around Prymelia's head, a funny dip in front of Nora before settling in the rafters.

Nora slips pretty fluidly into the role of old-besties, another quick grin slipped toward Prymelia, but that also means she doesn't hide her growing concern about the state of the Weyr's linens. "Twine?" It only takes one look at the assistant headwoman, with her stark, exacting wardrobe, to guess that patterned, multi-colored bedclothes probably aren't her style. "If they all look like this then, yes, they should all have a dip in some dye. And I'm guessing we should also have a few more made up. For every new person who joins the Weyr, there are countless more things we need to have on ha…" 'Hand', probably, but the orgy-vomit guess has the word fading out and her fingers quickly releasing the mattress cover. "If you've been to the laundry with it already, I think the next step would be the weavers at the craft complex. In fact, if you're headed out there and wouldn't mind stopping by the stores…" The clear implication: bring them all! Get them all fixed. "Just tell them to use whatever colors will best cover. Were there a lot of them down there?" The covers, because now she's peeling her clipboard from her side to jot down some notes.

“Twine,” Prymelia confirms though doesn’t go on to explain how twine might fit in with trying to disguise the state of the mattress covers. Expressive features tipple about a sympathetic line when Nora gives comment of all the background work involved in getting a new Weyr up and running. “At least salvaging what is available will mean less covers that need to be made up. There’s a good fifteen or twenty down there.” It simply doesn’t make fiscal sense to the trader to burn the lot of them. At least not before exploring every avenue first. “Oh, no need to bother the weavers. I can do it. I’ve another three days before the Smiths release my wagon. May as well make myself useful.” So helpful isn’t she?

"Twine…" Because Nora still can't quite figure out how it comes into play. But the numbers distract her anyway. "That many? Yes, definitely better to see what the weavers can do with them, I suppose. Or…" Now that Prymelia has offered to do the work herself, the headman's assistant tips her head to the side, sizing up her new best friend, perhaps with a little extra attention for what she's wearing. "It's not really a bother. It's what they're here for," whether the weavers agree with that statement or not. But she does seem to be considering the alternative. "You're a trader then? Well, I won't object to a person making themselves useful." And really, is there any reason for her to be trepidatious? She finishes off her little note to herself and folds the clipboard close again to smile encouragingly.

Enigmatic the smile that creeps about Prymelia’s mouth, either because the use of twine is a trader secret or she simply wants to surprise the assistant headwoman with her creativity. Unbothered by the scrutiny she’s put under, the trader sends her ‘bestie’ a warm look. “It’s the least I can do after how kind the Weyr has been in helping me get everything together.” Everything being one third of the rather lengthy list of requirements she’d handed in to the Headman. But this beggar isn’t going to be a chooser and will do the best with what Renalde is allowing for. “Aye, that I am,” she confirms with a bright smile, “Prymelia, clan Flynn currently trading out of Igen, here to aid the Weyr in whatever way I can.” And she makes that sound rather grander than what it is. Hazel eyes track the scritch-scritch of note making, the ever curious (or should we say, nosey), willowy redhead trying to read what’s been written, upside down.

The little blue lizard drops down out of the rafters and whirs around Prymelia's head, chirring happily? Hungrily? He alights on an unlit glow and preens a bit before giving a whistling sigh and curling up to snooze.

"Remind me," Nora says with a thoughtful cant, "What is your arrangement with the Weyr again?" Since it's not like Prymelia is actually wearing a name tag at the moment — and even if she were, no matter how the assistant headwoman might try, it's impossible to know everything. Her fingers take an idle trace of the edge of her clipboard, and then drum once with satisfaction when her new bestie gives her name. "Prymelia," she repeat with a wide grin, an offer of that hand toward the linen-laden woman. "Nora." A touch of congenial concern tugs her brow, "So what's going on with your wagon?"

Briefly distracted by the familiar little blue firelizard, hazel eyes track its upward path to where it comes to rest on the unlit glow and a soft smile plays out. Jerking her attention back to Nora, the trader quickly outlines the deal she'd been offered by the Headman. From the four months of working exclusively for the Weyr running errands and turning over all profits made, to the ensuing turn of giving over a third of said profits in exchange for the Weyr providing her with a wagon and helping to outfit and supply it. "And I'm to take along whomever the Headman desires." She ends off. "That's what this mattress cover is for." Her wagon and the double berth that's being built into it. Speaking of which, a happy smile appears, eyes aglow with anticipation. "Like I said, it should be ready in three days time. It still needs to be painted but I can do that when I get back from my first errand."

"Ah, a bunk mate," Nora grins, wry humor coming back to the spark of her eye. "Lucky person," comes with a pointed glance toward the questionable linens this assigned adventurer will have to sleep on. "That's quite a deal. And generous of Renalde. He must see a good deal of promise in you and your wagon." If she's bitter than the headman can toss about resources this way while she's having to dye old infirmary bed dressing, she doesn't show it; her expression is just blithely praising. "Do you know where you'll go first?" After the shake of hands, she goes back to a loose wrap about her clipboard, a shift of her weight swaying her skirt about her calves.

“Nora,” the other woman’s name echoed and tucked away. And then. A bunk mate!? Prymelia is no prude. By any means! But given recent events and missives, that comment is enough to pull a faint flush of rose across lightly freckled cheeks. “No!” She’s quick to counter avoiding that pointed look. “I just like to spread out when I sleep. Especially when its so hot.” Uh huh. Thankfully there’s a distraction of topic and warmth chases the blush from cheeks and neck. “Yes, it is,” she agrees enthusiastically. “Though I have no doubt he’ll find ways to ensure I earn my keep.” Wry acceptance there. A shake of scarved head then, “No, just that he has an errand for me. Might be that I can just take Soot out and camp overnight in a cave. If there’s ever anything you need taken somewhere or picked up, it would be my pleasure.” So earnest and eager to prove herself.

The flush and the counter come as a surprise for Nora, lift her brows up high as she watches Prymelia hedge and defend. "I just meant," she begins with a wave of dismissive fingers. "You'd have company in the wagon." But now, of course, she can come up with all sorts of other ideas that could cause the trader to blush. It's thankful indeed that the discussion turns back to the agreement with Renalde, though that doesn't have Nora looking any less thoughtful. "I see," she says with a quick flash of teeth, though thoughts plainly held safe for the next time she has a chance to talk to her boss. "I'll have to keep that in mind. There's always something, isn't there?" She draws a long breath and tips her head toward the linens again. "You're all set, then?"

“Oh.” Lame the inflection of Prymelia’s tone. Quickly recovering herself she fashions an impish smirk. “I agreed to taking along whomever the Headman assigned to go with me. I never said they could sleep in the wagon. Underneath it will do just as well. Unless of course they happen to have a bottle of whiskey or are of the female persuasion, then I might consider letting them sleep on the floor.” She’s kidding right? Maybe. Maybe not. Glancing down at the linens that had arranged for introduction, the trader smiles and gives a firm nod. “Aye, just a few more things to get together and I’ll be good to go.” A flash of movement in her peripheral vision outlines the bulky form of one Alberon honing in on his niece. “Uh, I have to go.” She tells Nora, hoping to make good her escape before the feline is out of the bag and her uncle discovers her plans. “It was nice meeting you. I’ll get the mattress covers fixed up right as rain.” And then she’s off, skirting behind a group of women chatting like merry avians and hugging the wall before disappearing from view. Phew!

Impressed? Surprised? Prymelia's harsh guest arrangements have Nora's fine brows lifted high and a smirk curving on her mouth, all a plain and teasing 'oh really' even if she doesn't actually say the words. Besides, that bulky figure that catches Prymelia's eye doesn't escape the headwoman's either and she darts a quick glance between the two traders, mildly curious. In the end, though, what she has for the other woman is a grin and a nod. "It was nice to meet you too, Prymelia. And good luck with the wagon. I look forward to hearing how it goes." Or maybe just hearing how her companion likes sleeping on the floor, since there's something jovial in her grin. And then it's time for her to get on with her morning's work as well. Or maybe it's afternoon now.

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