Eleni, striding in from the bowl with a loose-limbed swing of her arms, seems to be in a good mood. She has traded in her spring sweaters for lighter, breezier garments more suited to summer. Cut-off trousers reveal tanned calves; her arms, too, are light brown. Eleni's been taking full advantage of the upsurge in warm weather.

"T'is hotter than the Istan Sands on a summer afternoon."  And so enters E'nemin, muttering to whoever will listen.  Shuffling toward the nearest table, the bronzer tosses his jacket onto a chair and looks around for a drudge or anyone who might take an order for a drink.  A passing female apprentice baker holding a tray full of sweetrolls receives a charming grin.  "Ahh, lass, might you bring me some water?  A heaping mug full of it, if you please."  The girl, at first looking shocked, reveals a grand smile and says, "I shall.  Let me put this tray down first."  Off she goes.  Nem's rather pleased with himself as he sinks into another chair, watching the girl walk toward the serving table with that same grin.

A lithe little green lands in the bowl, and gently deposits her rider to the ground, crooning softly over him.  Then the man hastens into the Living Cavern, a bundle of something wrapped up and held awkwardly in his arms.  It is B'ren, and he looks like he's in a mild state of shock.  He looks down at the bundle and then around in the cavern, "Er, help?" he asks, his voice quiet, "Help, please?"  He walks forward on wobbly legs and collapses into a chair, the bundle still held close to him.

"So that's where you've been." Eleni's tone is too casual to be accusatory as she slips into a seat where she, too, has a good view of that young baker. It's her that she looks at, not E'nemin, though that regard is cut short by the appearance of B'ren nearby and his calls for assistance. "What's wrong?"

"Ellie girl, I didn't see you there." E'nemin says, snapping his attention from the apprentice to the goldrider.  His grin turns rather sheepish -- there is no mention of Eviyath's flight.  None of him missing it.  Nothing is said.  Cough.  Forearms are resting on the table and he leans forward a bit, drumming his fingertips on the surface as his eyes stick to the weyrwoman.  "You look so-"  Pause.  B'ren is spotted and he appears to need a little assistance, so Nem seizes the distraction and queries the greenrider.  "What do ya' need, lad?"

B'ren lifts the bundle, "It's, I don't know, this...I went to Telgar, just to see her, and, well, she didn't want to see me," he admits sheepishly, "but I suppose she did, because she gave me, this...this and I, I just...I don't know what...just a little stunned is all...like when I found m'brother."  He shakes his head firmly and the bundle begins to wiggle.

"You were busy," Eleni says, finding E'nemin's excuse for him; the distraction that B'ren provides is not distraction enough to keep the young goldrider from delivering this unmistakable barb. "Who're you talking about?" the girl queries, impatient with B'ren's vagaries. "Is that a /baby/?"

E'nemin stares at the greenrider and quirks a brow as an explanation is given.  Sorta.  And when the bundle begins to move a little, that quirked brow morphs into both brows rising.  "Merciful Faranth, what've you got there?"  The bronzer doesn't move from his seat, but stays put until he knows just what exactly is going on.  While he continues to stare, that same apprentice returns with a mug of water and sets it on the table top, pausing a moment to see if he'll flirt again.  When nothing is said -- hey, he's too engrossed with B'ren's situation to notice -- the girl turns with a huff and storms back to the kitchen.  "Don't be daft, Ellie, that ain't no baby..."  Is it?

Davram enters from the lower caverns.

B'ren pales a ghostly, chalky sort of white and just nods mutely, looking down but not at the bundle in his arms.  "M-mine," he stammers.  "Didn't know, don't know what...do with it.  Her.  She."  The bundle wiggles some more and then it begins to fuss, small noises popping out of the cloth like bubbles.  B'ren winces, "Help?"

The girl will miss it, with her back to those clustered around B'ren and his baby as she retreats to the kitchens, but E'nemin might not: Eleni's expression is distinctly victorious. She takes an official tone when addressing B'ren. "Find someone in the lower caverns for her." Not Ellie, who isn't moving; not a maternal bone in her body. "Give her to someone who can take care of her."

Davram enters the cavern quietly, and makes his way - or tries - to the food tables.  He hears the cries of a baby, which cause him to halt in his tracks and slowly turn to face the direction the cries came from.  Slowly, hesitantly, he says,  "There's... there's a... baby here?"

"Egads, woman...That /is/ a baby!" E'nemin says, leaning back in the chair as he points to the bundle.  Looks like Eleni will have to scold him later about missing Eviyath's flight because this is waaay more interesting.  "You stole the kid?"  Pause.  "Wait, if it was already yours, I guess you can't steal what's-- but, that's beside the point."  Nodding at Eleni's suggestion, a thumb is jerked toward her and he concurs.  "Aye, listen to her."  At this point, he'll say just about anything to get back on her good side.  Honey colored eyes will drift over to her and study her features before he grins once again.  "Might I get you a drink, Ellie dear?"

Ita steps into the caverns, and sighs softly. "It's so /loud/ today. She says, frowning.
B'ren looks down at the child, and pulls the blanket away from her face.  Little hands rise and wave about, and the crying turns into a soft giggling.  B'ren shakes his head slowly and gets to his feet, "I suppose that's best," he says slowly.  "But...she has my eyes," he protests lamely, looking up and around at those who have begun to notice him.  "Didn't steal her," he says wearily, "Was given.  Forced...she told me I had to," he murmurs.

Sheyenne
This child has the look of both her parents about her. She has her mother's thick auburn hair even at this age, and her father's calm green eyes. Rosy cheeks, pouty lips, and long eyelashes make her look like a typical sweet little girl. She almost always wears clothes of one type or another.
Sheyenne is 3 months old.

G'dal has been dozing off in the corner of the room, in a soft seat, his feet up on a stool.   He snores loudly, and wakes himself up.  "Huh?"

"She could've given it to someone in the lower caverns to foster," Eleni points out. "That'd be the most sensible thing to do. You can't take care of a baby." She rolls her eyes towards - at - E'nemin and says in a tone as dry as her throat, "I thought you'd never ask."

Davram sighs, shaking his head as the others are focused on the baby, and returns to his original goal, filling a plate with roast wherry, herdbeast, and fingerlings.  He shuns the mugs of ale, and finds himself a mug of hot spiced cider.

Ita's mood cheers up.  It's a baby, after all. She grins at the rider, and coos at the baby.  
B'ren pulls Sheyenne away slightly from Ita, the man both bewildered and protective, "It's, complicated," he mutters in return to Eleni.  "I, she...er...that would have been good, yes..."  He sits back down again, either unable or unwilling to move to the Lower Caverns just yet.

As the noise in the caverns rises more, G'dal stirs again, and stands up. He stumbles toward the food, and grabs a plate. "Yer jokin." The man says, loudly, ostensibly to his dragon. 

"That's my girl." Sitting up in the chair, E'nemin flags down a drudge and places his order:  "Benden wine.  Red.  For the weyrwoman."  His left hand then reaches into his pocket and a mark is then tossed toward the drudge.  It's caught and the server trundles off to the kitchen shortly afterward.  "Ellie."  The situation is about to get a little ugly and he might as well get it over with now rather than later.  "I didn't /mean/ ta' miss it.  We were at Fort Hold, doing a sweep with some other Sentinel riders -- we couldn't leave our post, bein' as new as we were to Fort."  Hey, he has a valid excuse this time.  "Shalnth was ragin' mad, love, as was I.  We had to stay at the Hold a few days after because we couldn't stand it."  That last part is said quietly.  "We're sorry."  His expression is remorseful as he stares at the girl, wondering if she'll truly accept his apology.  Or if she'll slug him.

Having filled his plate, and with his mug of cider, Davram makes his way toward an empty table, where he sits, placing his food on the table before glancing over toward the group of people, listening quietly to their talk.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I should have asked first." Ita says, backing away again. She sits down in a seat, and pulls out a hide from a pocket. She recites to herself, memorizing something. If one listens, one would hear Healer terms.  

Eleni watches Davram for a minute when Eviyath, whose interest in what occurs within the caverns brings her into the forefront of Eleni's mind, seeing what she sees and noting what the girl might miss. "Davram," she calls, careful to use the new appellation and not the old contraction. "Have you seen the new baby?" Quieter, for B'ren, she suggests, "Maybe he'd like to hold her." She's at a loss for exactly how one should treat the dragonless man, but Eviyath's suggestion strikes her as something to be tested. Right now, she chooses not to answer E'nemin. Perhaps it's because of her current focus; perhaps she'd just like to see him squirm.

B'ren smiles faintly at Ita, "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude.  It's just...new baby.  New to me.  She's three months old.  Just...just found out about her today," he says with a gulp.  Nonetheless, he smiles down at her, and she coos back at him.  The greenrider looks up at Eleni's suggestion and smiles at Davram, waiting to see his reply before he decides weather or not to give his child to another man.

"Aw c'mon, rider. He ain't gonna break 'er, are ya?" G'dal says, first gazing derisively at B'ren and then questioning Davram. "Y' won't bounce 'er on 'er head, willya?"  That makes him laugh, and he does so, a loud guffaw that echoes through the room.

Davram, hearing his name, looks up from his food, a look of trepidation on his face.  He rises, slowly moving toward Eleni and B'ren, his face taking on a more tender look as he approaches them.  "You... you'd let me hold her?", he asks uncertainly.

Ita looks up, hearing Davram's voice. She just gazes at him, and looks back down to her hides.  If he needs her, hopefully, she'll know.

The server returns to E'nemin and Eleni's table, setting the goblet of red wine down on it's surface before pausing a moment to see if they need anything else.  Nem certainly takes advantage of this.  "Another goblet."  Of wine.  He's gonna need a few if this is how the afternoon is going already.  "Ellie, how would you take to another woman in my weyr?  Would you feel good about it?"  Trying to make a comparison to their current situation, he continues to stare at her, watching for her reaction.  "Look, you wanna go somewhere and talk?  Private-like?"

B'ren bites his lip and tries to keep himself from looking nervous.  "Of course, Davram," he says softly, lifting the small infant up.  She looks a little confused and then smiles at Davram.  It's probably gas, but it's still endearing.

G'dal quiets down, and returns to his food, watching the whole room.  E'nemin gets a longer glance: as a wingmate, his business might affect him. He takes several bites, eating nosily, and getting bits in his beard. As usual.

As B'ren lifts the baby toward him, Davram holds his arms out, a hesitant smile gracing his face.  "She's... beautiful", he says, his eyes glistening.

E'nemin leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his chest as he waits for an answer from the goldrider.  Nothing else is said for the moment and it's his turn to listen to the conversations around them.  Those close by are observed and he notes their knots, making sure he's not in the presence of someone who demands a salute.  He's been a little distracted this afternoon -- with good reason.  Shalnth tugs at his mind and he seems to drift a bit, staring off at nothing in particular.

Eleni, reaching out to claim the first glass, seems to have no problems with drinking in the middle of the day. "I'd think it's a weyr. Honestly, Nem, you think I'm that petty?" Don't answer that, maybe. Ellie is acting her age today. She holds up one finger to delay a response to the bronzerider's question, eyes on Davram and the baby girl.

Ita is reading her homework, studying, and glancing at Davram from time to time. She grins widely as the man holds the baby, and she stands up to fetch some juice. "Anyone need more to drink?"  She'll be polite. Yes, she will.

B'ren smiles and blushes both, "Yes, sir, she is beautiful.  She has my eyes, but her mother's features."  He smiles at the babe, "Her name is Sheyenne.  Do you have any children?"  He turns to smile at G'dal, "Want to come take a peek?"

Do /you/ want G'dal close to your baby?  Wow, you're brave.  G'dal stands up, and nears the man, looking at the baby. "Looks like a baby." He says, indifferently."  He laughs, loudly, at some unheard joke, and backs away again, leaving a lingering scent.  "Pretty name, though." He'll admit.

At B'ren's question about having any children, Davram's features turn bleak for a moment as he looks up from Sheyenne.  Shaking his head, he replies, whispering, "... No... I don't."  Looking back down at the baby, his features soften again, the look of tenderness once again overtaking his features, one of the very first he's had since his loss.  "She's beautiful", he repeats.

Yep, looks like E'nemin will be in the doghouse for a while longer.  This causes him to grumble with frustration as he reaches over to grab his riding jacket.  "Ellie, you've every right to be shardin' upset with me.  But, I won't be havin' this conversation with you in the middle of the caverns with everyone an' their mother to listen."  Not bothering to wait for his own glass of wine to return, he pushes back his chair and stands up.  His eyes, however, remain on the girl.  "Blast it all, Ellie, you're stubborn.  When you want ta' talk, you know where ta' find us."  He and Shalnth.  A nod to those around him and he strides away from the table, perhaps toward the exit.

Davram is engrossed with the baby, oblivious to anything... and everything... else going on around him.

G'dal gets likewise engrossed in his plate of food.  He does look up to watch the young bronzer leave. When he does, his attention returns to the food, and he laughs every once in awhile. Fanneth must be telling jokes again. 

Eleni, determining that all seems to be going well concerning the other small dramas enacted in the caverns today, mutters a mild oath and follows after E'nemin, waiting to actually hail him vocally until they're out of earshot.

With no response from the group, she'll assume everyone is set, and she'll get her own juice, and a couple of sweetrolls.  She returns to her seat. "Just three months, then?" Ita asks, smiling. "She's adorable." 

Northern Curve of the Bowl
The dark granite cliff face rises high and stark overhead, a neck-aching view all the way up to the ice-laden peaks of Tooth Crag and its companions.  Twin ramps incised in the stone provide ground access to a stair-linked network of well-clawed ledges: north are the junior and retired queens, northeast the Weyrleaders' complex.  The constant traffic in this area heightens even further while a clutch is on the sands, as human and dragonkin alike swarm in and out of the gigantic Hatching Cavern to the east.
Southwest is the center bowl, and west are the weyrling barracks.  The hustle and bustle of the lower caverns lies south along the bowl's eastern curve.
  It is a summer afternoon.  A refreshing breeze laces the hot, gloriously blue skies.

 [-FortLC-] Davram, left holding the baby, begins to look panicked as people begin to leave.  "W-wait", he calls out frantically. "Don't... don't leave me here..."

[-FortLC-] B'ren nods at Ita, "Yes, just three months.  I'm here, Davram," he says, a little worry creeping into his tone.  "I'm B'ren, by the way.  Not sure if we've officially met yet."  Sheyenne coos at the man and waves her hands, trying to get his attention back.  "I didn't think I had any, until I went back to Telgar to...well...anyway."  He glances at G'dal, "Thank you.  Her mother named her."

E'nemin strides out of the living caverns and across the bowl, heading toward Shalnth and the ground weyrs rather quickly.  Gripping his jacket with his left hand, he looks bound and determined to make it somewhere far, far away from that goldrider.  The one that makes him feel...light headed.

>> I bespoke Davram with: Eviyath's touch is gentle, barely there, brief from respect and caution. Nonetheless, she is present, soft as the baby's skin and blankets beneath your fingers and hopefully comforting. << We didn't leave. >> <<

[-FortLC-] Davram calms down, now, as B'ren speaks up, his voice calming his incipient panic.  "Ok...", he replies, and returns his attention to the baby, rocking his arms gently.  Looking up again, and at those around him, he smiles.  "She's beautiful."

 [-FortLC-] Davram's eyes become hazy for a moment, as he looks toward the bowl.  He nods, slightly, as if an unheard voice is speaking to him.

"Nem, stop." Eleni places emphasis on the final word, changing what begins in a more pleading tone to something more forceful. She trails the bronzerider across the bowl, forced to step quick as she attempts not only to make up for his longer stride, but the pace he sets.

E'nemin whirls around, continuing to step backward as he looks at the girl.  "I don't know what you want me ta' say, girl."  Now, he stops, arms at his side with the jacket still being held.  "I can say that we didn't like knowin' that some stranger flew Eviyath.  Shalnth's eyes were red for /days/ and he wasn't inclined ta' talk to anyone.  Sometimes I thought he hated me as well."  His free hand reaches up and runs through his shaggy hair.  "Wasn't fun for us, Ellie.  Ta' think that -- what's his name -- L'ton, flew our Eviyath.  That he stayed with /you/ that night while we were off at the Hold bound to our duties."  The expression on his face sours a bit as jealousy begins to swell inside him. 

"Sorry." Eleni doesn't specify what she's apologizing for, but the tone is sincere. "I'd be mad too, if I was you. But you weren't /there./" Her voice strengthens, and the earlier ire she'd given evidence of rises again, this time as a frustrated confusion. "I wanted you to be there. I thought Eviyath did, too. I don't know why she didn't find Shalnth." Or, if she does, neither gold nor rider are giving away their secrets. "N'tan said it was cause you didn't actually want to be around."

"Ellie, Ellie, /Ellie./" E'nemin says with his own frustration building up again.  Two fingers pinch the bridge of his nose as he looks down, shaking his head as he does.  "Since when have you ever taken N'tan's words seriously?  The lad is daft, girl.  He /lives/ for the shardin' reactions he can get out of people."  His eyes narrow ever so slightly.  "Faranth, I thought you knew better than that.  If Shalnth were allowed to *between* that night, then maybe we wouldn't be standin' here havin' this blasted conversation.  Maybe it'd be /me/ on those Sands with you."  Thumb is jerked toward his chest.  "Gads, it's like you don't know us anymore."

"Well, I know," Ellie says rather defensively, striking up a position to match her tone: hands staunchly placed on her hips, shoulders squared. "But he occasionally has a point." And he scares her. This, she doesn't admit, but she evinces a certain degree of discomfort in relation to N'tan that her stalwart body language doesn't hide. "You didn't come because of a stupid rule like that?" She sounds incredulous, unimpressed by E'nemin's excuse. "That's ridiculous. You can't /always/ follow things like that - especially given the circumstances!" She shakes her head. The words that follow aren't defiant, although they harken back to the earlier possessive to which she hasn't yet referred. Instead, it's a sadder sort of self-knowledge, inevitability. "Or maybe you don't know me. We're not yours."

E'nemin is taken aback by that last comment.  It'll be a moment as he processes her words and he'll finally nod in agreement.  "Aye, you're right.  You're not ours."  And that's all he says on the matter for fear that he might regret what he truly wants to say next.  But, he bites his tongue.  "Well, we take no pleasure in knowin' that you've been in someone else's arms.  And if you're goin' to hold this against us for the rest of our days, then cut us loose and we'll be back to Benden by morn."

"I'm not holding that against you." Ellie is deflating, curiosity and embarrassment replacing her earlier irritation, trading a prickly exterior for self-consciousness. "You think that's why I'm...?" She describes herself by gesture only, waving one hand abstractly. Her eyes, at first intent upon her clutchmate, follow the lazy path of her wave, trading a view of E'nemin for that of the bowl at large. "That's kinda...kinda nice, though."

Confession.  "I'm on the verge of goin' back to Benden anyway, Ellie.  They don't need me here anymore an' they only wanted Shalnth to fly that gold."  Names escape E'nemin at this point and he hooks one thumb through a belt loop, shifting his weight onto his left leg as his gaze moves toward queen's area.  "I feel as if you've got your start here at Fort.  We've nothin' really to stand on.  Ma' boy there has been dull these past few days, his hide's showin' what he feels.  /You/ may not believe what I'm sayin', but, we've been lost."  A pause.  "All paths lead back to Benden at this point."
"No, but you can't!" Eleni borders on desperation, the most recent in her cycling through tone and emotion with all the volability of a pent-up teen: anger, frustration, pride, reluctance, wonder, and now, fear. She twists her fingers together, knotting them in an effort to, in turn, tie down this bronzerider before her. "I don't have any friends here except for you. You can't leave me behind, and I can't go back. Everyone gets a little down or dull sometimes, but it passes."

"I'm not entirely sold on Fort Weyr.  I'm thinkin' it's got a lot of Leadership troubles and I've been doin' my part every day to try to keep up.  I'm behind with learnin' the drills, but I suppose that'll change."  Not usually so negative, it isn't long until he grows optimistic again.  Then a crooked grin forms on Nem's expression - playful, a little teasing.  "So, you be wantin' us to stay?  And will I get to see more of ya'?  You can't stay on them Sands every wakin' candlemark, y'know."  Thumb is removed from the belt loop and he takes a few steps toward her, testing the waters before he goes any further.

And for the next of Eleni's many-colored moods, wariness is that which manifests. She plays the cat, mercurial, not wanting to be cornered, shifting to the balls of her feet and tempering her reply with a blatant stall through commentation on the bronzerider's early remarks. "Problems, yeah," she agrees, wholehearted but sounding less; her concentration's elsewhere. "Sometimes I think this Weyr's on the edge of collapse. S'why they need good people like you around. You're steady." Ah, good ol' E'nemin, dependable in Ellie's eyes. "And yes, of course I want you to stay," she says, almost sounding irritable. "Didn't I just say that?"

E'nemin stays where he is and nods his response to her last question.  "Aye, ya' did.  But, now I know where I stand, so I suppose I can deal with Fort a little while longer."  A hand runs through his hair while his eyes return to the goldrider standing near him.  "No worries, Ellie.  We'll stay for...however long you want us here."  Because Benden will be glad to have them back should he return anytime soon.  "I'll drop by later when-- N'tan?"  The same grin returns and he laughs a bit.  "You're so violent, but so pretty.  Gads, I love ya' girl."  Turning now, he begins to make his way across the bowl, hoping that his last words will linger on her mind.