==== November 7th, 2013
====Eollyn, O'ell
====O’ell comes for his latest booze-refill, and instead gets some surprising news.

Who Eollyn, O'ell
What O’ell comes for his latest booze-refill, and instead gets some surprising news.
When There are 0 turns, 9 months and 7 days until the 12th pass.
Where Corks and Works, Igen Weyr

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Corks And Works
Day or night, this shop is well lit on the inside, by day with Rukbat's beams, and by night by the grace of many glowbaskets that are very liberally used to maintain lighting. When a chance is gained to look about the shop, one easily sees why - there are shelves upon shelves of wine here. The perimeter of the wine shop is lined by shelves four high, and each shelf is carefully stacked just short of bursting with wine of various vintages, regions, sweet or bitterness, and even more importantly, price. But lo, wine is not the only thing to be found on the shelves here - one wall is dedicated to other liquors, from ale to brandy to vodka, and many in between. A carefully written sign nearby says, 'if you don't see what you're looking for, let us know!' There are also a couple of shelves on the wall of the main door, dedicated to things not of vintner make. Although they are bare at the moment, a portable chalkboard plaque says, 'Sienna's Cheeses'.
Even the wall behind the counter has wine bottles on it, but it's the counter itself that is more of note. Approximately four feet high, there are wine bottles underneath as well - empty ones this time, as if to display the wines that have passed through here in the past. Many of which are highly remarkable in either name or vintage. The top of the counter is typically kept clean and polished to shine. A heavy book for keeping track of sales is atop the counter, as well as a stylus for writing with, and an inkwell. One of the shelves behind the counter has been reserved for clean wine glasses, and there is a tub for dirty glasses beneath it; next to it are small cloth bags with the shop's name embroidered onto them, for the customers who buy more than a single bottle of wine.
In the middle of the room is a circular wooden display with spaces for wine bottles to be inserted, while the card on the little shelf below tells the name of the vintage or wine of the sevenday. A table and chairs are sometimes brought out from the storeroom to the front room, when there are particular customers about, or when there is a particular event going on. The shop itself is manned at all times, even during the night, sometimes by the feared Eollyn herself, and sometimes by Mayte or other apprentices.


It was a sad face that greeted his empty Bourbon bottle at lunch today. He even sniffed at the empty bottle to see if the fumes would help as much as the actual liquor does. But, alas, no dice. Thus, after dusk, one of Igen’s Weyrling staff makes his way to the Corks and Works. Tired, trying to help look after dragonets with all that -energy-. But, O’ell still manages to offer both a signature confident smile towards the store owner when he walks in. And, obviously, try to surreptitiously give her a visual once over too. What? As if he can resist doing at least that much.

Normally that confident smile would bring back quite the memory, but right now that smile on that face…well, it has Eollyn looking quite a bit like a deer in the headlights. She clears her throat in an attempt to regain composure, barely noticing his once-over (although she’d be very pleased had she noticed), although the woman doesn’t attempt a smile herself. “O’ell.” There is so much a single word can say, and while the word this time is his name, there are so many emotions layered into it. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be seeing you back here anytime soon.” Words, at least they are coming, and at least they’re even not the ones she shouldn’t just spit out randomly! “What…can I help you with?”

“Eollyn.” There’s a little alarm bell ringing in the back of O’ell’s mind. Unauthorized Stargate Activation! But, like most men, he totally ignores it. “Sorry I haven’t been by sooner. Baby dragons; they require us to be there day and night. It’s easier when they’re a bit older.” He is at least smart enough not to infer that he’s only there to stock up on booze. Because saying he was there for bourbon would sound just like that no matter how cleverly phrased. “You alright?” One eyebrow raises, and he holds off on answering her question.

Damnit, the one time you count on a man to not cut to the chase, he does! “It’s fine, I know there is much that is going on in your life right now.” She hesitates, as if not wanting to add more to the pile of Things that are on his mind. Because let’s face it, this one is a doozy! “I imagine it’s that way for all babies..” It’s said kind of as an afterthought as she walks over to the stronger alcohols, as if silently cataloging them all even with him present. “I’m…alright, I guess.” She lets that answer linger in the air like a tossed snack to a canine, before adding, “I’m pregnant.” Headshot?

O’ell is kind of like that. He confounds people, and he likes it that way. “Uh-huh.” Chicks -always- say they understand. But really, DO they? Shyeah. It’s a good thing none of them can read his mind. “Probably. My daughter’s 10, but once they start talking it’s more work. Thank Faranth for the nannies at the weyr.” His eyes follow her (okay, maybe one of the more rounded parts of her) towards the alcohol, although he doesn’t move from his spot yet. In fact, his hands are stuffed in his pockets rather casually. “You gu…” Hrk. Oh yeah, that statement is cut off abruptly by her next announcement. “You’re… pregnant. You weren’t pregnant when we… I mean. No, you weren’t. So that means…” He’s not going to be dense enough to ask WHO the daddy is. He might lose his nuts for that one. Instead, he will stand there with a sort of flummoxed expression on his face. As if he perhaps thought his little swimmers were no longer fully functional at only 40 turns of age.

Eollyn chooses a bottle of a slightly stronger variety than his usual, but lingers facing the alcohol a few moments longer, as if worried about what she’ll see on his face when she turns back around. “I don’t…do that sort of thing often, and no, I wasn’t pregnant before.” She answers steadily, turning around to face him finally. If she avoided it much longer, she might have lost the nerve to, so better she do it now than be unable to later. “I’m..keeping it.” It’s still an it to her, this news hasn’t had that long to sink in, and she’s still kind of boggled by it herself. “I just… I figured you ought to know.” That should answer his unasked question better than anything, really: yes, it’s his. Her Fortian accent is creeping back stronger than it’s been in the last few months, but that’s likely because of nerves more than anything.

Surprisingly, O'ell simply has a thoughtful expression by the time Eollyn is picking out the strong alcohol selection. It changed slowly from flummoxed to pant-shitting to concern and then finally just to 'well, ok then'. And that's where it settled. "Believe it or not, neither do I really." He's more of an all work and no play sort of bronzerider. And he's been at Igen long enough at least for that habit to be somewhat obvious, but probably not as much so outside of the Weyr. "Ok." He agrees, without arguing or offering trips ::Between::. The lady has already made up her mind. So, "This is as much my responsibility as yours." Obviously. "So I'll.. I mean, unless you don't want me to..I'll be here. There.. Fuck it, you get the idea. Have you seen a healer yet? Is there anything you need?"

It’s probably a good thing that Eollyn mostly missed those first two expressions, because she’s been anxious enough as it is. About telling him, about the fact that she is - because let’s face it, this wasn’t exactly planned now was it? - so that she doesn’t see that is probably a good thing. His comment about not doing that sort of thing often either earns a little smile from the Vintner, and she tilts her head to the side a little. “Somehow, I can believe that.” It’s a tease, and a light one at that, but it’s also Eollyn saying she’s glad he’s okay with it in her own way. Not that he’s well versed in Eollyn-isms yet. “Thank you.” For not pushing that she get rid of it. “If…if you want to be, that’s okay. I’ve seen a healer,” she smiles wryly here, “had to have her tell me twice to be sure I’d heard right.” That it wasn’t anything else. “I..right now, no, I don’t think so.” This has left Eollyn more vulnerable than she’s been in years, however, and…well, let’s say that that in itself makes for an interesting position that they’re in.

O’ell smirks, just a bit, at the light teasing. “Which healer are you seeing? So I know who to check in with.” Oh, he plans on being involved in this whole thing, maybe even more then she’d prefer. His set expression when he asks the question pretty much says so. “Well alright, if you’re sure you don’t need anything. But when you do, just ask.” is iterated, to further get the point across. There’s the thud of his boots crossing the store floor next, and the weight of his hand on her shoulder, perhaps nudging her closer. “It’ll be fine. You’ll have all the help you need. Does your little apprentice know? She’ll need to step up on some of the heavier tasks in a few months.”

“Journeyman Yivia, in the Weyr proper.” If there’s anything Eollyn’s mom drilled into her brain, it was that if you need a healer, you see a Healer. Perhaps Eollyn should be a bit weirded out by O’ell’s intentions on being so involved in the pregnancy, but considering she’s never been pregnant before at the moment…all she really is is relieved. About a lot of things. His all-but-demanding she ask if she needs something earns another little smile from the Journeyman, and she nods. “I will, O’ell.” His being next to her suddenly earns a surprised blink, although she won’t protest it. “Mayte knows; I think she suspected before I told her, though. The other apprentices.. I’ll tell them in a month or two. The boys usually do the heavier lifting anyway.” So no big worries there, she’ll just make them do the heavier lifting ALL the time now! “It’ll be fine, you’re right.” There’s no need to panic about the parasite growing inside her, nope. “Journeyman Yivia said no more alcohol until after, either, so I’ll have to let them do all of the sampling.” There might be a briefly wistful look on her face, before a little grin crosses her lips again. “It’ll give them the chance to have to prove themselves, at least.” And then, suddenly, “thank you.” Why isn’t specified, but perhaps she means for being so cool about things.

"Journeyman Yivia." Apparently, O'ell says it aloud so that he can commit it to memory. Those little remnants of panic in his expression fade a bit more when he hears that the men and boys do the heavy lifting anyway. It doesn't even cross his mind to try and be sneaky and check up on that statement. "Give em a chance to learn how to deal with a hangover too, I bet." is drawled, youthful (ok… and recent) memories of puking off the side of his ledge in the mornings add some dark amusement to his observation. But, finally, after a few beats of thoughtful silence… "You don't need to thank me." It's his version of you're welcome. Honest. After which he tries to tilt her chin up a bit so he can drop a kiss on her lips. Her cheek if she turns away. His other version of you're welcome. And hey, it's not like he can get her -more- knocked up or anything so why the hell not be brave. "I was heading to the cantina after stopping by here, to have dinner. You should eat something." Because pregnant chicks eat a lot, right? All of them do, obviously. "I'm afraid of the food at the weyr after something crawled out from under the wherry and tried to bite me last week."

Even if he was sneaky and checked up on it, he’d find that Eollyn was telling him the absolute truth - it gives the boys things to do that keep them out of trouble, especially considering that they have to be super careful because of how fragile the things the boxes contain are. Obviously they don’t have to be AS careful with kegs, but that’s a whole different issue. And still something the boys handle. “That too.” Eollyn replies with a brief grin. “Gotta get them to stop being lightweights early, or it’ll spell disaster later.” For their vintnering careers! After all, what proper Vintner is a lightweight other than one who had to sober up for a while? Like Eollyn will be! His comment earns a pair of raised eyebrows, and even Eollyn isn’t beyond a faint blush when he tilts her chin up to kiss her. She blames it on the hormones, but she can’t blame them on that she returns the kiss, that’s for sure! The Vintner miiight just like that form of ‘your welcome’. She’s already pregnant, so where’s the danger now? His suggestion she eat something is met with an amused slant of lips, and a nod. “I could eat.” Her agreement there, although she probably would have gone to get something soon anyway - or have sent one of the apprentices. His description of the weyr’s food has her nose wrinkling, and a quick little shake of the head. “I…would be scared of their food too.” Any plans for eating up there have bit the dust for a while, now, at least!

“Can’t imagine a vintner not being able to hold their liquor.” O’ell agrees, with a grunt this time. It’s a manspeak thing. Cannot discuss alcohol without devolving into it, apparently. “Have you seen the kitchen there? If not, do yourself a favor and never ever be brave enough to look.” He has nightmares about the stuff that drips off the walls. For real. “Or eat there, for that matter.” Did his shoulder just twitch? It really may have just twitched. But, to cover it up, he’s intent on ushering them both out of the store and toward the cantina. Surely he can come up with conversation topics for the length of a meal. Safe ones. There’s always discussing the finer points of whiskey vs. paint thinner if all else fails.

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