Damia’s life has confused her, to say the least. She started out as daughter to a minor holder of Benden. Yes, Benden. She grew up enjoying the happiness of being the eldest of quite a few children. Her father, of course, was far too busy to afford her much time, but her mother was not. Lady Mirabethan was a kind sole and was always happy to be a part in her children’s life. And she succeeded rather admirably at it, teaching her four daughters to be proper young girls and her three sons to follow their father and be moral in their dealings. Quite a big responsibility considering the fact that she still had to take care of the domestic dealings of a minor Holding. As ‘mia grew older, she learned to appreciate that effort on Mirabethan’s part even more, spending more time letting her mother know what a good job she did. Those last few months were close to heaven for Damia, learning the things she would need to know and spending time with a respectable woman. And then, it happened.

Lady Mirabethan and Lord Driken were out on a tour of their cotholds in the mountains around Benden. It was just early spring and some rains had drenched the countryside, though the Lord and Lady didn’t appear to notice, or even care very much. A mistake which proved to be fatal. A rumbling could be heard far above and before they knew it, a combination of rocks and mud came tumbling down the mountain at immense speeds. Driken spurred his runner forward and she whinnied but obeyed, eyes white and rolling all over the place from fear. Mirabethan did the same and despite the fact that she was a magnificent rider, sometimes runner silliness can’t be helped. Her mare panicked and pawed the ground instead of going forward. The Lady hopped off with lightening reflexes, dashing for Driken and safety…but to no avail. Midway to refuge, the rocks and mud overcame her, burrying her and killing her immediately with their velocity. A quick, relatively painless death, to be sure, but tragic. Driken ran to where sher body would be ‘neath the piles of rock and mud once the ‘slide had stopped, sobbing. His love…

Damia, meanwhile, was not to hear of her mother’s death for the day or two it took for a messanger to reach the Hold. After all, her parents were old-fashioned and firelizards weren’t their cup-of-tea. At least they were studious in all areas that really mattered…The poor girl ran sobbing to her room, throwing herself on the cot and slamming the door. She sat, crying and thinking between the fits of sobbing for at least a candlemark or two before the eldest of her brothers, the next sibling after her in birth-order knocked timidly on the door. A ragged “Come.” Escaped from Damia’s throat and he entered, padding silently into the room and setting him lightly at the foot of the cot. ‘mia sat up, looking at him through reddened eyes and across tear-stained cheeks. Keiran needn’t say anything, instead she just leaned into his shoulder and cried. A little while later, they both emerged to find the Hold in a state of shock…and no one to get it out. Afterall, the Lady Holder was no longer living. In the fairy tales, Damia would have come to grips with her problems and taken charge. This isn’t a fairy tale. Instead she remained locked inside her grief. And marvelling that her mother could have touched so many people…except one. One remained untouched, bustling about and trying to take care of things efficiently.

Falmyst was a sort of heafty woman, just hired by the late Lady Holder for help around the hold as she took care of the newest batch of babies—twins. Falmyst /was/ a great help, but that doesn’t mean she was a nice person. Quite the opposite, she was a little bitter and wasn’t really touched by anything. She was efficient, however, and whilst everyone was still grieving, she was speaking in hushed tones with some other people for arrangements for extracting the Lady and giving her a /proper/ burial. For quite some time, Falmyst would have hold of the Hold as far as domestic afairs go, and Damia couldn’t care less.

Just like her, her father was locked inside of his grief…until a new family arrived. The wife of the family had no husband and they didn’t look particularly prosperous. As it turned out, her husband had perished trying to save his family. And he succeeded, his wife, named Kisa, escaping to this small hold just south of Benden. Driken took her in, too numb to so anything else. Just about that time, something else came into Damia’s life. The same something, but for a different reason—that family. She didn’t particularly care that they were there, only that they brought with them change, change from the numb pace the entire Hold had set for themselves since Mirabethan’s death. It seemed to break ‘mia’s otherwise inpenetrable shell, if not those of others. And she noticed with the pack was a boy. Now, the little holder girl wasn’t exactly /old/ yet, but she was at that stage in her life when she began to notice boys. In a different way than just as playmates. Oh no, she noticed him and liked him. Not just liked, but /like/ liked. So she took her fear firmly in hand, shoving it just an inch behind her courage and she began to socialize with him.

The boy, Kasim, wasn’t particularly striking, though he did have the blonde hair-blue-eye-fair skin complexion that so many girls yearn after and can never receive. A mild mannered boy and yet having a couple of those wild ideas that make Kasim…Kasim! All those things and more, he was to Damia. He was something she could bounce her ideas for improving Hold morale against, he was someone to flirt with, something to occupy her time. They grew closer and closer, even began…experimenting a little. Just as teenagers are apt to do.

Her father hadn’t exactly been idle either. A Holder can’t exactly, and he had begun taking his grief in stride, running the hold like a well oiled machine once again. Falmyst’s position was usurped once again, this time by its proper owner, Driken. And the Lord wasn’t idle in the area of romance either. He had taken a liking to the exotic young woman who had come for shelter in his Hold. Soon she came into even more favor as she showed signs of actually knowing how to run a hold, domestically, with at least some emotion. Maybe not /quite/ as efficient as Falmyst, but definitely the emotional boost Driken’s people needed.

Before /anyone/ knew it, least of which, Damia, Driken and Kisa were handfasted and the Hold was running almost as well as it was under Mirabethan. Of course, ‘mia is always the last to know…and therefore she didn’t know until she had already gotten rather involved, emotionally, with Kasim. And then they found out. Ooops…Immediately they came to the mutual agreement to cut the ‘relationship’ off, but still, it was something that helped ‘mia to grow as a person. She learned how to truly empty yourself to someone. Sure she cleared her mind and her eyes of tears to Kieran, but never to the extent she could to Kasim. Truly, they had hit on a friendship that would last forever for all they were legally siblings now.

As ‘mia grew and developed, she became quite a blossoming young woman, beautiful with her mother’s startlingly bright, sapphire eyes. Of course she was the object of much lust far and beyond to those who knew her, or had even seen sketches of her. Driken, as any proper Holder would do, began looking for good handfasting for his daughter. As with /any/ girl, this scared the poor Damia and as always, she spilled her feelings to Kasim.

“I /can’t/ be married off. How can I do /anything/ properly if I have to spend all my waking—and sleeping—moments with someone I don’t know and don’t necissarily like, or /love/ for that matter?” Desperation began to color her tone and a flicker of something like despair began to glow, kindle, then light in those eyes of azure. Kasim looked deep into them with his own light blue eyes, searching them restlessly. “I…I can’t say that I honestly know. Truly, I’ve never been in that situation and aren’t likely /to/ be. But Damia…I’ll confess. I don’t think you’re cut out to be a Holder. I see it in your eyes. You have to do /something/ with that talent…” Wheat waved above their heads from their little hideout among a cropping of rocks piled in the middle of her father’s field. Always they would come here to talk and always, they would find a way to get back, unoticed. “What talent?” ‘mia had asked, completely, honestly bewildered.

Talent? Yes, Damia most /definitely/ had a talent. From…forever, she could be counted on to not only have perfect pitch, but to be infinitely patient with children. “Your talent. You could be just about anything you want, but you’re not ready to settle down and probably aren’t likely to be, at least with any one man.” Kasim had shrugged and ‘mia studied his features for a long moment. “I think you’re right…but do you really think I should run? Shouldn’t I just ask fa—“ “NO. Whatever you do, don’t. I know at least /that/ much. That’ll just speed up his pairing process so you don’t have the /chance/ to run away.” A certain hint of desperation darkened his own eyes as well, but nothing more.

After that conversation, ‘mia carefully hoarded whatever food she could, studiously packing one article of clothing each day. Sure she had to travel light, but she also had to do it surreptitiously. A holder’s daughter really doesn’t get all that much privacy she can call truly her own. After only a sevenday, she counted her supplies early, early in the morning when only the most studious drudges were awakening. A satisfied nod jerked almost the whole of her body and she took the little carisak and slung it over her shoulder, slipping silently through the darkened Hold. Into Kasim’s room she crept, right up to his cot. Softly, she planted a moist kiss on his forehead, eyes watering as she looked at him for what would probably be the last time. And then she was gone, sliding out the great doors of the hold and dissapearing down the road on her favorite runner, Moondance.

The next day, everyone woke up to their normal schedule…all except Kasim who was privy to Damia’s schedule for leaving. It was only late that afternoon when Driken had yet another of those dratted proposals that the Lord noticed his daughter missing. She’d always been allowed her independence and so he really hadn’t thought much of it. A scrawled note was found on his desk which he so rarely used and curses could be heard echoing about the courtyard. Kasim winced and went about his duties as normal, only the occasional piece of attention paid to the ranting Holder. He /needed/ that girl, shardit! She was his best bargaining peace and she just sharding had to run away, yes? Of /course/.

The road wasn’t exactly pleasant for ‘mia who had only seen the real hardships of travel on a few expiditions to the cotholds beholden to her father. But across the continent she road, steadfastly reaching westward and as far from her father’s questing fingers as she could get. Oh sure, she stopped at the occasional inn or charitable cothold, she /did/ have a few marks to use, but still it was meager going and by the time, a turn later, she reached Tillek, she was grimy, emaciated, and /very/ tired of riding. Moondance was worn despite her most studious efforts at keeping the runner healthy. She was met at the entrance by a cheerful cook who ‘mia would later know as Kaetetrini. The woman took Damia under her wing, nurturing her for almost a full sevenday before she would allow the girl any freedom to go about her chores as a member of the hold. When it came her time to help with cooking duty, she knocked the socks off of…well ‘trini. No one else particularly paid notice to the little holder girl from Benden who could cook. Kaetetrini pulled her aside, glowlight dancing across her optics. “Damia. You have a gift…you’ve just /got/ to be a baker. We can’t let that go to waste! And besides, you’re not going to be happy here, you’ve got to have /excitement/ in your life. I can see it in your eyes.”

Apparently Damia’s eyes betray a lot about her for Kasim observed the exact same thing. “But…” She began, but the journeywoman bustled her off, handing her an apprentice knot and a handshake. “You wouldn’t mind working up at the Weyr, now would you?” She had continued briskly and much to her own amusement and amazement, Damia agreed without hesitation. “Why of course! Wow…who’da thought /I’d/ be working at High Reaches?” At least, that was her assumption. And apparently Kaetetrini couldn’t prove her wronge. And so, with only a bare candlemark to pack her belongings once again, she was shuttled out to the courtyard and a waiting green dragon. She stared in awe, jaw open. A minor hold like her’s wasn’t especially prone to have dragon visits…and now she was going to /ride/ one!

The rider atop the dragon had a certain roguish appeal to him, and yet, he seemed the sort of big-brother type, not the lover type. Chocolate eyes twinkled as he reached a hand down and she handed up her stuff, still in a daze. A green dragon! The dragon snorted and the rider laughed out loud, brown eyes twinkling as he offered ‘mia a hand. She took it, still moving rather confusedly. “Hi…” She said shyly and he took the hint. “Oh yeah! How silly of me. I’m C’lumsy and this is green Klutzieth. We’ll be conveying you to High Reaches…I assume you’ve never ridden aback a dragon?” A brown wink awarded Damia’s head-shaking denial. “I’m Damia…” She said, but was swept away by his instructions. “Hold onto my waist. It’s going to be very cold, /between/, but it’ll be only for a moment.” The great green head turned to gaze upon the scared apprentice and ‘mia could’ve /sworn/ she saw the dragon wink…but then again, she didn’t really have time to think about it for with a little crouch and a spring they were aloft, taking ‘mia’s breath away.

And just as suddenly, they were /between/. ‘mia didn’t have words to describe it. It was as if…she wasn’t there anymore. She was just hanging in limbo, unable to move or think, the cold so complete that it actually numbed her mind. Comforting thoughts entered her mind and she knew Klutzieth was reassuring her even though she couldn’t feel the emerald hide beneath her thighs. And then they were in the compariably warm air of High Reaches. Compariably. It was still rather fridged and snow covered the landscape below, creating a winter wonderland. Little colored speck dotted the sides of the bowl where dragons lay, trying to catch the merest hint of winter sunlight. And down down down they spiraled, landing smoothly just before the living caverns. “Amalia! We’ve got ourselves someone new!” A thin woman bustled from the large mouth of the caverns even as C’lumsy helped ‘mia off the green’s back. Amalia helped out, then signaled a drudge who scuttled readily up to take Damia’s luggage. “Oh that’s alright, I’ll take it.” She assured the drudge with a smile. She shrugged then scuttled back off. She walked in a daze along behind the headwoman ‘till they entered the cavern. “Well, we’ll have to get you all bunked down and give you the basics…I take it you’ve never been to a Weyr?” Damia shook her head, her mouth slightly parted. She licked her lips and shut her mouth, only just then conscious of it. The girl turned, trying to admire everything at once. And that’s when the headwoman noticed her knot. “Oh! You’re not just anyone…you’re an apprentice. Nade!” She turned her attention to the door at the right of the cavern. A woman covered in flour appeared, a somewhat sour expression on her features. “We’ve got ourselves a new apprentice!” The cook replied, “Good thang, t’. I cannae get these drudge t’ do /ahnythink/ right!” The woman’s accent was thick and despite her grumpy appearance, the apprentice took an immediate liking to her.

Thus started Damia’s stay at High Reaches which is ongoing and happy. At present, she’s working on her journeyman project which will involve (probably) a Tpish dinner. Heh.

Damia is still a little saddened by her past for it isn’t as she wanted it to go. And it still comes ‘round to haunt her from time to time; idle threats from her father for her to come back home pop up at the oddest of times, but other than that, she’s not bothered by them. Every once in a while she’ll try her hand at contacting Kasim, but each time, the letter doesn’t make it or her step-brother doesn’t choose to respond. Le sigh.

‘mia has made quite a few friends in her four turns at high reaches…and recently impressed three firelizards: Green Izyndyl, Blue Wyrre, and Brown Ozu-Zarkh. She’s happy with her life and has apparently set the stage for more apprentices to join her at High Reaches.

Damia never really had /much/ in the way of a social life back at Benden and therefore has a rather…flirtatious one here. Apparently, she has a low tolerance for alcohol and therefore can get quite drunk on only a few glasses. And now and again, she can be seen stumbling from a rider’s weyr in the morning, attempting to shake off sleepiness in time to fix breakfast. Those activities have lowered in frequency considerably, however, once she became senior apprentice, for Nadesda seemed to work her harder and she was almost /always/ exhausted…

She’ll be recovering soon, hopefully, especially with the help of a few, very close friends.