who / what: open starter by ximena solano for @smalltownrp
when / where: afternoon, main street (downtown)
The late afternoon light slanted through the open-air market courtyard, turning the hanging herbs and stringed peppers into glowing strands of amber and green as Ximena Solano moved through the bustle with an easy, unhurried rhythm, her fingers briefly brushing rosemary sprigs as she passed.
Somewhere behind her thoughts had been the steady pulse of her work at Wenn Broadcast, but here it stayed distant, like something set aside without ceremony. She lifted a small bundle of wild herbs, turned it once between her fingers, then tucked it into her tote alongside a few imperfect fruits she’d picked almost instinctively.
A vendor called out a greeting, and she answered with a quick wave and an easy grin, then lingered just a moment longer, watching a nearby stall where skewers hissed over open heat, already crowding with customers. After a small, amused exhale, she quipped to no one in particular, ❝ Those are not going to survive the next ten minutes... ❞
Becca let out a soft laugh as she caught sight of the crowded stall, one hand tightening around the tote bag hanging from her shoulder while keeping a watchful eye on her children weaving through the market nearby. "Oh, honey, they won't last five minutes if my two get a look at 'em."
Almost on cue, her gaze shifted toward where Mackenzie and Jack had wandered off, the younger of the two already eyeing the food stalls with far too much interest for Becca's liking. She shook her head fondly before looking back at the woman beside her. "I swear those kids can smell grilled food from a mile away. Give 'em another minute and I'll be standin' in that line whether I planned to or not."
Rebecca "Becca" Calloway Mayne - 32 - Realtor at Pine Hill Properties - FC: Odette Annable
Backstory:
♫ Talking down to me like I'll always be around. Push my love away like it was some kind of loaded gun. Oh, you never thought I'd run ♫
Born and raised in Texas, Becca grew up believing in hard work, family, and the idea that love could overcome almost anything. She was the kind of girl who dreamed about marriage, children, and building a happy home of her own someday.
She met her future husband, Daniel Calloway, in her early twenties and quickly fell in love. What started as a whirlwind romance eventually led to marriage, and for a long time, Becca believed she had found exactly the life she had always wanted.
Over the years, they built a life together. They bought a home, established careers, and welcomed two children into the world - Mackenzie Calloway Mayne (6) and Jack Calloway Mayne (4)
To outsiders, the Calloway's appeared to have everything. They were the family people pointed to as proof that happy endings existed. They attended community events together, celebrated milestones together, and presented a picture-perfect image to the world.
The reality behind closed doors was far more complicated. As the years passed, the marriage began to deteriorate during the more recent years. Small disagreements became frequent arguments, and the relationship slowly filled with tension, frustration, and resentment.
Becca spent years trying to make things work. She convinced herself that every marriage faced difficulties and that if she just tried harder, things would eventually improve. Instead, the problems only continued to grow.
On several occasions towards the last couple years of their relationship, arguments turned physical and her husband struck her a couple of times. Though she hid it well from friends and family, the relationship had become increasingly unhealthy and difficult to navigate.
By the final year of their marriage, Becca had begun seriously considering divorce. It wasn't a decision she came to easily especially with her children, but she found herself questioning whether staying together was truly what was best for anyone involved.
Before she could make a decision, tragedy struck.
A fire tore through the family home late one night. Becca managed to get both Mackenzie and Jack out safely, but her husband never made it out of the house.
In a single night, everything changed. The home they had built together was gone, her husband was dead, and Becca was left trying to make sense of a future she had never expected to face.
Although the fire was ruled accidental, questions began circulating throughout the community. People knew the marriage had been struggling. Some had witnessed arguments. Others had heard rumors long before the fire occurred.
It didn't take long for speculation to spread. Some people quietly questioned whether the grieving widow was telling the full story. Others openly suggested that her husband's death had been more than a tragic accident.
No evidence ever supported those claims, but the damage was already done. The whispers followed Becca everywhere she went, turning sympathy into suspicion.
Determined to give her children a chance at a normal life, she eventually packed up what remained of their belongings and left Texas behind.
She relocated to Ennora, taking back her original identity before she became a Calloway and hoping for a fresh start. For a place where Mackenzie and Jack could grow up without constantly being reminded of the tragedy that had altered their lives.
Since arriving in town, Becca has focused on rebuilding. After being a successful realtor in Texas, she now works as a realtor at Pine Hill Properties. She spends most of her free time with her children, and does her best to create a sense of stability after years of uncertainty however also remains committed to having a career where she can provide for her family without relying on anybody else.
The move to Ennora wasn't just about finding a new home. It was an opportunity to start over. Somewhere that Becca could introduce herself without being met with pity, suspicion, or gossip. In Ennora, she isn't the widow whose husband died in a fire. She isn't the woman people whispered about behind closed doors. She's simply Becca.
For now, she is focused on moving forward, even if she isn't entirely sure what the future is supposed to look like anymore.
Logan frowned at her and shook his head. "You seem to be taking everything as a compliment," he said, dry but with humour behind it. He himself wasn't the biggest talker, so he figured that she was right. With Jodie, it was usually they explaining things, he preferred to listen... So Eleanor doing the same didn't faze him too much, not as much as his comment made it seem. He simply shrugged now. "World can be entertaining without filling it with so much noise," he replied, at this point just to argue. Which was stupid. He didn't have a bone to pick with her, and yet he felt like just doing it. It was strange.
He had noticed her gaze on his neck earlier, so he tried to casually pull his collar up a bit more as he leaned on the bar. "Gin with berries sounds very much like a cocktail," he said, looking at her sideways. "Gin... and berry syrup, I guess that's simple enough." While talking, he made a motion with his hands as if weighing something, the option and the truth of his own words, plus the fact that he had been right. He then turned back to the guy behind the bar and ordered another beer and a gin with berries. The two exchanged a shrug at that, and then Logan turned back to Eleanor.
"Hot when I was 16, huh?" he asked, giving her the smile she wanted but teasing her about it anyway. Just like she had done earlier with his comment. He had changed so much since that age... yet it felt like he had walked back to those times over the past few weeks. "I do smile when I feel like I need to. Don't worry, I don't fight for fun anymore," he noted, as if that was supposed to make this outing better. He knew his past misgivings, and he didn't really care or feel shame for them. Maybe a tinge of regret over some of the shit he'd done, but it had been the right thing for that time.
Eleanor laughed softly, shaking her head at him. "Maybe I just know how to appreciate a compliment when I hear one." she replied with a little pout, scrunching her nose at him. "You make it sound like a character flaw or something." She leaned lightly against the bar beside him, fingers tapping against her glass. "And anyway, the world gets way too quiet sometimes. Someone has to fill the silence." The words came out jokingly, to disguise the truth beneath it. Eleanor had never been good with silence for too long unless there was a paint brush or something artsy in her hand. Growing up, she had found silence deafening and cause her to spiral in her own thoughts of hatred especially after Claire had left. Quiet was no longer peaceful or comforting to her.
When he repeated her drink order back at her, she immediately rolled her eyes. "Oh my god, okay, yes, technically it's a cocktail. But it's basically just fruit and gin. It's not like I ordered one of those ridiculous drinks that comes out smoking with sparklers stuck in it and a tiny umbrella." The smile he finally gave her caught her off guard a little though, causing her to pause for half a second before pointing at him. "There. See? You can do it." She lifted her drink toward him once the bartender handed it over. "You actually look way less intimidating when you smile. Slightly less like you'd threaten someone outside a gas station." Eleanor commented although she couldn't help but find that even though it was small, his smile lit up his face in an oddly nice way that she'd never noticed before...
At his comment about fighting, her expression softened just a touch. "Mm, probably for the best." she said before taking the chance to bump her shoulder lightly against his arm. "Jail would definitely put a damper on darts night." She snuck a sideways peak at him with a small grin tugging at the corners of her lips whilst taking a sip of her drink. "And besides, I don't really mind doing most of the talking. You seem like the type that likes listening more than you pretend to."
"You'd be surprised," Nate admitted. "There's nothing more embarrassing than a single man's fridge in the middle of the week." While Nate had a tendency to be obsessive over pretty much everything in his life, it was clear, for one too many reasons, that his health was never his priority. He did live on takeout most of the time, whenever Heath wasn't trying to feed him with his mother's cooking, or whenever he didn't bring back home a whole set of full tupperwares from his own mother's home over the weekend. It had been like this since college, and now it had become one of his main habits.
"No– I mean, I do want to eat it, but licking the spoon–" Nate shrugged, "I don't know, it feels like a reward that should only be given to the person who actually baked the cake. It feels unfair to have me do it when all I've done is... sit here and watch." Still, Nathan got up from his chair and came closer to the table. "I'll take some with my finger, then you can lick the rest, deal?"
Aspen couldn't help but laugh as she leaned back against the counter for a brief second. "Okay, now I'm definitely picturing this tragic bachelor fridge of yours. Let me guess? Expired sauce packets, one lonely takeout container, and maybe a questionable carton of milk you're pretending is still good?" she teased lightly, though there was no real judgment in it.
Her expression softened a little at his explanation about the spoon, and for a second Aspen simply watched him as he stood and moved closer beside her. There was something surprisingly endearing about the fact he was genuinely concerned over who deserved to lick the batter. "Nate, you realize most people would've stolen the spoon before even asking, right?" she said softly with a slight shake of her head. "You're allowed to enjoy things even if you didn't earn them." Aspen couldn't help but remind him. In all their years of friendship, she always did feel that he never gave himself enough credit where it was due. He'd always been harder on himself than necessary.
Still, she humored him, tilting the spoon slightly toward him with a playful little nod. "Alright, deal. But only because you're being weirdly gentlemanly about cake batter." As he leaned in closer, Aspen bumped her shoulder lightly against his arm. "And for the record, sitting here with me while I bake actually is helping. Kitchens are nicer when you're not alone in them and moral support is still support." She moved to finally put the cake in the oven.
Teo didn't really need to visit the art store. He almost never did, though. Still, he found himself there weekly, wandering through aisles and losing track of time. He'd buy a few new paints, colors he used a lot or a color he wasn't sure if he had but thought was eye catching in the moment. And then it was just...looking. At everything. All the different mediums, the things people could do with art either casually or professionally, it didn't matter. He loved all of it.
So when asked about the adult coloring books, he smiled, nodding enthusiastically before she could even finish speaking. "Yes, we love these," he said, laughing. "Some people don't know where to start, when it comes to this sort of thing. Not everyone can get what they have in their head out on paper exactly right, but coloring in a picture that's already there? It's simple, it doesn't take so much effort that it becomes a chore. I may not use these myself, but I still love them for what they can be for others," he explained, picking one up and flipping through it.
"Oh yeah, I get what you mean." Eleanor said, tilting her head as she looked at the coloring book in his hands. "I never really liked coloring in between the lines much, to be honest." she added with a small, sheepish smile, already a bit caught up in explaining herself. "It always felt kind of restrictive, like I was stuck inside someone else’s drawing and had to behave in it, if that makes sense." She nodded her head thoughtfully.
"I always ended up wanting to change things anyway, like add my own lines or scribble over parts because it felt more fun when it started looking like mine instead of staying neatly inside someone else’s idea." She glanced up at him again, still smiling as she put the book she was holding onto back onto the shelf. "But I did get why other people liked it. It was still kind of sweet, just… not really how I liked to make art."
"Oh," Leo has to laugh, but he still rubs the back of his head with some sort of shame. "I mean, there are some loaves that have seeds around them still– they're pretty good. I do save a lot of them for the birds, though. You should see my balcony by dusk. They like coming over for dinner. It's pretty cute." It's one of the main reasons why he shuts down the shop early– he likes to take advantage of the evening skies, sit down on his living room floor, and draw some of the birds that come to visit. "I mean, I have to have a variety, some people do request it, but if you can't have actual bread, then... why go anywhere near it, you know?" Perhaps it was an unpopular opinion, but since this girl was openly joking about being gluten-free, he thought it would be all right to be a little bit too honest about it.
"Well," Leo started, looking down at his doodles. He really hadn't planned it, and he wasn't even sure his design had come up in a way he totally liked it, but he did like the way his piece of sidewalk stood out from the other businesses. He also liked the way it made his new blonde friend smile. "You're welcome to grab some chalk and join me. There's still enough empty space between the flowers," he grinned. "Or you can just tell me your favorite song so I can give you a free loaf. Your choice."
Eleanor let out a soft little "aww" at the mention of the birds, immediately turning toward him with obvious delight. "Okay, wait, that’s actually ridiculously cute. You have balcony dinner parties for birds?" She grinned. "See, this is exactly the kind of information I need about people. Forget star signs. I need to know if random animals trust you."
Eleanor immediately took the invitation without hesitation, scooting a little closer as she picked through the chalk like it was a box of treasure. "Oh, absolutely. You just gave me legal permission to vandalise the sidewalk. That’s dangerous." She picked a blue piece of chalk before leaning forward, tongue poking slightly against the inside of her cheek in concentration as she started sketching little butterflies weaving between his flowers.
At his question, she let out a thoughtful hum. "See, that’s actually impossible because my favourite song changes like... hourly." She glanced sideways at him with a grin. "One minute it’s something like Starlight by Taylor Swift because I’m feeling all sparkly and dramatic and like I should probably be standing in the rain in a music video somewhere." Another butterfly appeared. "And then the next minute it’s something loud and angry because I feel like a raging bitch and suddenly the world is against me for, like, literally no reason." A soft laugh slipped out of her before she finally looked back down at the chalk dust staining her fingertips. "You don’t have to give me a free loaf, though. I just wanted to be your friend." A small smile lingered on the corners of her lips as she turned slightly towards him as if holding out in anticipation at his answer.
Hiro does in fact look at her like that. Deadpan eyes. Slow blink. Amused smirk. The same look he gives her every time she comes in here and says she's 'just browsing.' A scoffing, "Sure," leaves his throat as he returns his attention to the little cut out pieces of metal spread across the top counter. He's taken to using his time working here as an opportunity to work on the commission he'd been hired by Minho to work on. He's about six hundred little flowers in and needs maybe seven thousand to go and he's not even sure if that's an exaggeration. It's meant to be a big sculpture. Massive. One that will take up essentially the entire front entryway of Minho's already very large mansion home. It's the largest work that Hiro has ever been commissioned to work on and he's admittedly feeling a bit on the whelmed side. Not yet overwhelmed but just whelmed.
"Let me know if you got any questions, oh, and everything with a yellow sticker is 10% off right now," he says as he presses a rounding tool into the thin metal to give what will be the petals more dimension.
She followed his attention down to the metal flowers scattered across the counter, her expression immediately softening with interest. "Whoa. Okay, first of all, that's insane. Like actually insane. How many of these do you even have to make?" Eleanor leaned a little closer, careful not to touch anything, though her curiosity was written all over her face. Then she looked back up at him, noticing the tired sort of focus sitting behind his expression.
"Actually, no, wait, don"t answer that/" she said with a small laugh. "You look like if you say the number out loud you might genuinely lose your mind." Her attention drifted toward the shelves again almost instantly, already distracted by the mention of discounts. "Ten percent off is dangerous information for me, by the way. That's how I end up leaving with weird stuff I absolutely do not need. Like a fish-shaped lamp or a chair that looks haunted. I mean, not that you sell anything like that of course."
Santiago had been having a very bad period; honestly, his life seemed to slowly be falling apart even more. After what had happened with both his sons in this past month, he felt like nothing he did was right. Even with Maisie and Romy, trying to stay there a few nights a week since Ignacio had been in the hospital, and he was out of place, out of emotional depth. He wished things could start making sense again, just like that. But sadly, there was not much more he could do than the current efforts.
And yet... here he was, nursing a glass of whiskey after saying he'd head home, check up on Ivy, fix the trailer, make sure Andrea was alright... but no, he was having the first strong drink in two weeks. And he was already wishing he could down it and have another, it was soothing all the frayed edges.
It took him a minute to realise that someone was speaking to him. He looked at the woman, trying to place her familiar features in something from a life away. "Just dropping in for one... two. Not sure things here often get interesting," he spoke in his usual slow way. "I would think one of the clubs would be a place for fun?"
Jacq couldn't help but laugh as she swirled her drink in it's glass for an aimless moment. "Are you sure it's going to be just one or two? The look on your face says you've had a tough week. Or year." She tried her best to sound gentle, and not judgemental as she gazed over at Santiago but his next comment had her shuddering a little.
"Oh no absolutely not. Haven't stepped foot in a club in years. I aged out of that phase embarrassingly fast after college." She thought about it for a moment before letting out a slow and gentle laugh. "Last time was a bachelorette party and I'm pretty sure it took three business days for my hearing to come back. Besides, clubs are exhausting now that I'm older. Too loud, too sticky, and there's always at least one girl crying in a bathroom for reasons nobody fully understands." Jacq shrugged at the realization that she was beginning to ramble at a guy who was just trying to enjoy his drink in peace and probably didn't care conversation. After all, who really came to a bar to talk?
Sofia smiled as Eleanor walked into the laundromat. It had not taken long for the place to develop regulars. That was good for business, but it was nice for Sofia as well. Everything and everyone was completely new in her life and she was happy for any familiarity she could get. "It's completely unnecessary for you to bring me pizza as well," she said. She smiled at the compliment. "Thank you," she said. It was good to hear that it had risen above a mere necessity. Sofia set her phone on the table, having finished her most recent text to the repairman. "An childhood dog," she lied smoothly. In truth, Poppy had been a name she'd gotten off some random name generator online. It couldn't be sentimental. She'd had to let go of everything sentimental when she'd left New York City.
"How was your week?" she asked as her phone buzzed again on the table.
"Oh, hush. Nobody should have to survive an entire shift surrounded by detergent smell without emergency pizza," Eleanor replied, waving the comment off easily. She smiled when Sofia answered, though there was a tiny flicker of surprise in her expression. "Poppy's kind of a cute dog name," she said. "Very trustworthy. Like if a dog named Poppy ran up to me, I'd immediately assume she was a good person."
A soft laugh escaped her as she slid into one of the nearby chairs, tucking one leg underneath herself. Eleanor had been trying to befriend Sofia ever since the laundromat opened. She seemed easy to be around, and Eleanor figured everyone needed at least one friendly person when they were new somewhere.
At the question, she gave a dramatic sigh. "Honestly? Kind of all over the place. I got paint on one of my favourite jackets which felt like a personal attack from the universe. Some guy yelled at me for putting stickers on a power box even though it looked ugly before I got there, so technically I improved it." She found herself rambling. She wasn't sure if Sofia really cared but Eleanor, being typical Elenaor couldn't help herself but ramble and overshare. Her eyes flicked toward Sofia's buzzing phone for a second before back to her. "What about you? Settling in okay? Or has the town scared you off yet?"
"Definitely," Poppy agreed, letting out a breath through her nose that might've been a laugh. She watched the woman rummage through her bag, reaching down to pick up the discarded pile and tuck it into the nearby cart Poppy had been using before she entered the last room.
Poppy's lips turned up slightly at the corners, almost a smile, and she reached out for the pack. "At least they're not princess band-aids...those are all my daughter uses," Poppy hummed, taking a band-aid out of the package and putting it over the worst of the scrapes on the palm of her somewhat injured hand.
Eleanor let out a small gasp of mock offence, pressing a hand dramatically to her chest. "Okay, wow. What's wrong with princess band-aids?" A laugh slipped out right after, her eyes dropping to the Spongebob plaster now stuck across Poppy's palm. "Honestly though, that’s kind of adorable. Your daughter clearly has taste."
She glanced back down at Poppy's hand, her expression softening just a little beneath the joking tone. "You should probably clean those properly though. I feel morally responsible now that I supplied the medical equipment."
Where: Ennora Historical Museum
With: Jacqueline @athousandtaintedroses
Outfit: click
Milvi had come to work in a better mood than most days. Perhaps it was the fact that finally they had gotten a temperature above 10 degrees and the sun was bringing color to the world at last. Or simply because she had managed to get a good nights sleep which was rare for her. She was walking out of the archive room, needing fresh air. Maybe just craving the sun, considering texting Amy if she'd like to join her on said walk. But the thought was cut short when she stumbled into someone while looking down at her phone. "Oh, so sorry!" She exclaimed, reaching down to get her phone and whatever it was that she pushed out of the hands of the other woman.
Jacq had been a bit frazzled lately. The quarry had turned up nothing making it yet another useless week, and she'd walked into the museum already running on low patience and too much caffeine. Then someone bumped straight into her. Her excavation bag tumbled to the floor, a couple of the tools rolling out as it hit the ground with a thud. One landed on her toe as she yanked her foot back. "Shit" Jacq hissed under her breath. Crouching to scoop up her tools she shook her head. "Nah, you're good. I was actually wondering how long it'd take before the universe tried to kill me today." She muttered, not at Milvi but more to herself.
Roman watched her settle in, noticing that hesitation. He didn’t comment on it outright, just shifted his glass in slow circles against the bar. “Not terrible per se, just that something is plaguing you.” He shrugged before nodding up towards the bartender to swing by to take the woman’s order.
Listening to her speak, he nodded. At one point he thought about disappearing from the town, but he had children…although staying really didn’t do them any favors. “Well damn, sounds serious.” Roman’s eyes gazed towards her. “On the bright side, tonight you ain’t gotta figure out shit. Just have a few drinks and let that be tomorrow’s problem. So what will you be having?”
Aspen let out a quiet hum at that, one corner of her mouth twitching faintly like she almost smiled. There was something comforting about someone telling her she didn’t have to untangle her whole life in one night. "Tomorrow’s problem." she repeated softly, more to herself than him.
Her eyes drifted toward the bartender as they approached, hesitation flickering briefly across her face. "Um..." She glanced back at Roman for half a second before giving a small shrug. "Maybe just a vodka cranberry? Something easy." Once the bartender moved off, Aspen rested her forearms lightly against the edge of the bar. "I think everyone back home expects you to slip right back into place when you come back." she admitted quietly after a moment. "Like nothing changed while you were gone. But it did." She told him, opting to keep it pretty vague since she didn't really want to overshare either. Especially not when she felt like she already was beginning to .