fitz's eyebrows raised as she listed off the name of the drink, and he let out a low whistle. “ and here i thought matcha was already as good as it could get all by itself, ” he said, momentarily looking back at the menu. “ iced vanilla, you say? i'll have to remember that. although, the recommendation comes from you, so how could i forget? ” he took a quick sip of his latte and sighed contentedly. he may not have been the target demographic for the famed green drink, but he loved it either way. there was something so complex about the simple flavor of it, and he refused to believe that anybody truly thought it tasted like grass.
he nodded toward the door, silently inviting her to join him as he left the shop. “ not sure where you're headed but i wouldn't mind heading in the same direction as you, ” he said, stepping ahead of her so that he could hold the door open. he was nothing if not chivalrous, and besides, the town was one big circle. he might be going the wrong way by heading her direction, but he would eventually wind up where he needed to be regardless.
phoebe couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips following his reaction. “well, plain matcha is fine and all, but i am known to have good taste.” as if on cue, her order was ready on the counter and she happily grabbed it to take the first sip, a content hum slipping past her lips. “would you like to try?” she was already wiping lip gloss off the straw and offering her drink without a second thought. “if you like it, i can bring you one whenever you’re at work.” an easy excuse to see him considering she wasn't in the market for a tattoo or piercing any time soon.
she paused for only a moment when he motioned toward the door, soon following and thanking him on the way out. starting down the sidewalk, phoebe’s hand instinctively reached for his arm. back home, she rarely walked anywhere alone, linking arms muscle memory at this point. her hand stopped mere inches from his sleeve, remembering where she was and who she was with. the few seconds her hand lingered mid-air went on embarrassingly long, and eventually she figured the best course of action was to hold her cup securely in both hands, praying he hadn’t noticed. heat burned her cheeks, gaze locked on the sidewalk cracks ahead of them.
“i haven’t found anything to do except wait out the mall opening, my violin won’t be ready for a few more weeks.” and that would still leave her holed up in her apartment. “what do you like to do for fun around here? i’m open to suggestions unless it involves getting dirty or being near cow manure. . . although, if you have stables here, i could reconsider the cow manure.”
Event starter for Shay & Indigo
Where: Battle of the Bands
@brcvehecrts
Shay had lost his brother. At some point between getting a beer and talking to someone who stopped him Malachi had disappeared. They'd already performed so it wasn't like he needed to keep track of him, but damn. There were still plenty of familiar faces lingering around so when he saw one, he went towards them. "What's up," Shay called over the sound of some genuinely atrocious band from Seattle on stage. He nodded a chin towards the stage and grimaced. "Who do you think approved this one?" He asked Indigo, shaking his head. Hey, music was music, people could make it good or bad but... this was a contest, wasn't it? "How'd they get that guitar to sound like nails on a fucking chalkboard?"
Indigo had been watching the stage with the same mildly pained expression she’d worn the last few minutes, arms folded over her chest with a beer can in one hand. She nodded once in greeting toward Shay, unable to look away from the trainwreck on stage. “Some moneygrubbing asshole clearly didn’t listen to their audition and only saw dollar signs from the entry fee.” She took a sip before finally turning more towards him. “Wannabe grunge band from Seattle, no doubt.” Indy’s eyes rolled before she could stop herself, but c’mon, she never left Pinehaven for a reason. “Where’s your brother? I was hoping to tell both of you at one time that you didn’t do half bad.” She then motioned to one of the bartending tents. “Drink?”
for: olivia @brcvehecrts
where: back to school bake sale
Penelope had spent the early hours of the morning sorting and resorting the school supplies to make sure every child would have the most equal amount of items they needed. It was a hard balance. Kids were perspective. They knew which ones of their peers had enough and which ones were wanting. While the bake sale didn't eliminate the hierarchy that can develop when one kid isn't able to afford the nicest, most trendy supplies, it at least made the gap narrower.
And Penelope expected nothing less from her family. Both her wife and her daughter agreed to help set up the bake sale, but that didn't stop Penelope from worrying if everything was still set up just right.
After fiddling with the trays of cookies, Penelope looked over her shoulder. "These are centered, right, Livy? I'm not going crazy?"
She watched her mother knowingly, Olivia had to get her eye for precision from someone, after all. The students had helped too, the banners and donation bin all decorated by them during art classes. How could anyone say no to a bake sale benefiting kids? She’d pull as many guilt trip cards as she needed to to fundraise. No matter what the result was though, the Sinclairs wouldn’t leave a child in need.
“They look perfect, Mom.” Olivia held up the tablet in front of them and the table, the screen showing a digital replica of the booth. She didn’t do anything without a plan (and a backup, just in case). “See? Perfect.” She tapped through a couple more spreadsheets before landing on the goal page. “And we’re on track to afford a few more computer upgrades.” She tapped her stylus against her chin, glancing at the table of treats. “Should I go mobile with a tray? We’ll reach more people, and more sales means more for the students.”
CLOSED EVENT STARTER FOR : TEMPERANCE + OLIVIA
WHERE : SACHI-KIN'S BOOK RELEASE
the dimming summer twilight filtering through the floor to ceiling windows of the book nook cast a soft, honeyed luminescence across the crowded room, where the cheerful hum of pinehaven’s residents filled every corner in eager anticipation of sachin’s literary milestone. temperance stood near the decorated display tables, a picture of tranquil pride in her flowing midnight blue linen, her arms folded over her satchel as she surveyed the packed shop. her companion for the evening her darling olivia, the pair of them observing the swelling queue forming by the signing table, and the joyful movement of neighbors coming together.
"you must admit, darling," temperance murmured, leaning toward her daughter with an affectionate smile as she gestured toward the bustling crowd, "there is a remarkable magic in seeing our little enclave rally so fiercely around a creator. it fills the heart to witness such genuine devotion to the written word." and sachin deserved every bit of this celebration after the endless months he poured into the manuscript.
temperance's heart swelled with vicarious joy as she caught sight of him across the room, beaming as he greeted the arriving guests. she reached out, resting a gentle hand against olivia's forearm, offering an unspoken touch of comfort amidst the rising volume of the festivities. "and having you here beside me to witness his triumph makes the evening all the more exquisite."
olivia’s gaze followed her mother’s toward the signing table, stacks of unsigned copies waiting to be inked and taken home. “it is wonderful, mama.” wonderful was an understatement. she couldn’t put into proper words how much she cherished this town and its people, how small events like this made huge impacts. so many residents turned out for another individual’s accomplishments, a gathering like this wasn’t seen most places. her heart would burst trying to explain herself, and yet, she continued to convince herself a mayoral run was not in the cards. she could do wonders to this town.
her attention was brought back to reality by the gentle contact on her arm. this wasn’t the time to bore others with campaign this and voting that, she wouldn’t dare spoil the peace within the book nook. her hand clasped over her mother’s, olivia lowering her head onto the woman’s shoulder. “thank you for bringing me into this community.” the literary sphere and pinehaven itself, she couldn’t thank temperance and penelope enough for the life they gave her.
“now, how many copies are you taking for yourself?” she patted the two books stacked in front of her. one for personal use and one to display at town hall, the glass cases in the corridors a show-and-tell whenever liv had the chance to educate newcomers. “surely he will set up a live reading too?”
who: wyatt & gwen @brcvehecrts
where: st. luke mini mall opening
you would think after almost a decade of being divorced, gwen and wyatt would have gotten the hint. these two needed to either make up and be friends again or just stop talking to each other altogether. but after growing up together, spending their most formative years always with one another — and both of them being extremely stubborn — nothing could be so simple. one needed to hold on to the resentment they felt while the other simply couldn't let go of the one person who understood them best.
so, even though he had been strictly advised against spending any excess time with his ex-wife, wyatt still showed up to the opening of pinehaven's first-ever mall to assist gwen with whatever she had briefly mentioned needing to look for. even after all of their fights and her active disdain towards him, the harsh words she has continued to say to him... about him... she was his best friend, and he would do anything she asked. leaning against his truck, he pulled out his phone to see where she was.
to gwen
⤷ ゛i'm here
⤷ ゛i was able to park closer to the front, so should you get anything too large for your car, they can just put it in the bed of the truck
⤷ ゛remind me, what was it you needed my help with again?
gwen avoided wyatt whenever possible, which wasn’t exactly easy in such a small town. they shopped at the same grocery store, got gas at the same stations, and were stuck with the same recreation choices. she was too stubborn and committed to her family to relocate to seattle, even if the scenery and shopping were more up her alley, so she dealt with the occasional run-in. she couldn’t let him have the upper hand, couldn’t smile at any of his jokes, wouldn’t allow herself to reminisce on their life together. they were cordial, or at least, he was.
still, he had a truck and happened to be conveniently available whenever she needed manual labor for hauling larger items. she waited in her car until the familiar pickup pulled in, and the pinging of her phone elicited a groan and eyeroll. gwen wasn’t parked that far from him, not bothering to respond as she approached from the side. oversized sunglasses and handbag dangling off her arm made her look ever the part of a disgruntled ex-wife, the folding of her arms across her chest the icing on the cake.
“i told you, they have a pottery barn here and i wanted to look at furniture.” whether she actually needed anything was a different story. retail therapy did wonders for her soul though, and any distraction was welcome. “i also wanted to look at a few other stores; this is a monumental day, i’m not in any rush. unless you have somewhere more important to be?”
Event starter for Hanne & Gwen
Where: St. Luke's Mini Mall Opening
@brcvehecrts
Hannelore was already three stores and four shopping bags deep into her mall day with no signs of stopping. Could she really say she came to the mall if she didn't stop into each and every new store? She had to support local businesses, didn't she? That's the way she saw it. Hanne had just gotten herself some refreshments and found a seat when a familiar face strolled past. "Gwen!" She called out, waving her hand. "Isn't this just great?" Hanne patted the space next to her, inviting Gwen to sit down for a spell. Another local business that Hanne loved was Sage & Stone, she treated herself to a massage at least once a month and didn't go anywhere else for her manicures. "I've already gotten a little carried away..." Hanne motioned towards her shopping bags. "This is what happens when I take a day off!"
Gwen turned at the sound of her name, catching waving hands and shopping bags first before looking up to see Hanne. Finally, someone who understood the point of malls like she did. Her own paper bags hung on her wrist, a guilty pleasure cup of pretzel bites in her grasp as she took the seat beside the other woman. "You can't just tell me you shopped and not show me everything you bought." The bags slipped off her wrist to land at her feet. The mall wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, though the grand opening deals might. She could take a breather. "Want one?" Gwen tilted the cup toward Hanne. "It's dreadful that they opened an Auntie Anne's here, this is the worst thing I could put in my body."
tl;dr: phoebe ends her engagement after realizing she's unhappy
– 06 FEBRUARY 2026 –
Sunlight filtered through the tall windows of Phoebe’s suite, casting golden warmth over everything it touched. She sat on the window seat, curled against the pillows with her chin resting on her arm, the document-covered table long abandoned.
Months of wedding planning had exploded over the wood. Sketches of wedding gowns overlapped swatches of silk and lace. Photos of mock floral arrangements and unofficial seating charts littered the remaining open space, her coordinator leaving a list of questions Phoebe needed to answer. Decisions surrounding the biggest day of her life, one would think she’d be ecstatic.
“You’ve quite the mess on your hands.” Phoebe recognized her brother’s voice without turning her head, listening to him walk farther into the room and shuffle the papers around. “I don’t envy you.” That managed to get a smile out of her, but she remained facing the window. More shuffling occurred behind her. “This one’s nice.” She didn’t bother asking which dress he pointed out, specifics didn’t matter anymore. “They’re all nice. . . I’m supposed to narrow down my options for the fitting.”
Giannis hummed and navigated around the table to sit on the opposite side of the window bench. He watched Phoebe momentarily before following her gaze out the window, beyond the gardens and stables to the rolling sea. “How are you feeling?” Her response came too quickly, too automatically. “I’m excited.” She didn’t have to think of a response, even when she knew her brother would see through any facade. He knew her too well. “Are you sure?” Phoebe finally turned her head in his direction, the faintest wrinkle between her brows. “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?” She forced a reassuring smile. “I’m marrying the love of my life.”
“Tell me about the wedding.” Her expression brightened a little more, the tension in her shoulders barely easing. Phoebe began listing off different aspects of the planning: an esteemed florist out of southern Italy, the cathedral they visited, Sebastian this, Sebastian that. She spoke for nearly ten minutes. Flowers, music, guest lists, state dinners, receptions, an entire week’s worth of celebrations. Her liveliness lasted just as long as she spoke, her brother waiting another beat before speaking.
“Anything else?” Her head tilted again in question. “You’ve told me about everyone else’s excitement, everyone else’s ideas, but what are you excited about?” The smile slipped from her face, caught off guard from his question. Her mouth opened and shut without a word uttered. An answer should’ve been easy. The dress? The ceremony? Becoming a wife? Becoming Sebastian’s wife? None of the words arrived right away.
“I told you. . . I am marrying the love of my life.” Her brother nodded like he’d heard it all before. He had no easy way of explaining his reservations, how he saw through her future husband’s poise and charm that everyone else seemed to fall for, Phoebe especially. “I’m not trying to upset you, I just. . .” Giannis glanced at the table containing her future before meeting her eyes again. “I don’t want you to lose yourself in this marriage, mikroúli.” He stood, moving closer to gently squeeze her shoulder. “Just make sure this is the life you want.” Something tightened in Phoebe’s chest and a lump formed in her throat. The only response she could give was a nod before Giannis left her in the same spot she was found.
– 18 FEBRUARY 2026 –
The dressing room had transformed into an atelier. Garment bags and veils in various lengths lined silver racks, yards of white and ivory fabric draped across chairs. Only three people occupied the room: Phoebe, her mother, and her dresser. The way her mother beamed, one would think this was her fitting. Phoebe, on the other hand, had to remind herself to engage in conversation. Laugh when appropriate. Give feedback when asked. Otherwise she’d slip back into the conversation with her brother.
The first three gowns were beautiful and exquisitely crafted. Each met with thoughtful discussion, careful pinning, and minor adjustments only a professional would notice. Sleeves were cut, added, adjusted. Lace reconsidered. Trains lengthened only to be pinned back again. In every single dress, no matter how many alterations were mentioned, Phoebe’s smile never met her eyes. Each dress only deepened the pit of doubt, the reflection staring back at her becoming unrecognizable.
“One more,” the dresser stated, unzipping the final garment bag, “I have a feeling this is the one.” Phoebe smiled politely and hummed in agreement. Maybe this dress would make her feel better, make her realize how silly she was to even question the wedding at all. She and her mother were left alone a final time to slip out of one dress and into another. Elena gathered the delicate rows of buttons at the back of the gown, securing them one by one.
“I think she was right about this being the one, and I don’t want to sway opinion but it is my favorite of the bunch.” Her mother’s words went unanswered, Phoebe’s attention locked on the stranger in the mirror. An unsettling tightness clamped in her chest and she quickly blinked away threatening tears. Her breathing turned shallow, she hadn’t even noticed her mother trying to get her attention, the back of the dress still undone.
“I. . .”, she started, barely having enough air in her lungs to get the word out. Her heart was pounding in her chest, echoing in her ears. More shallow breaths that never felt like enough. Elena moved to stand in front of her daughter, hands cupping her face with the gentleness of a mother instead of a queen. A sob broke through and Phoebe squeezed her eyes shut, failing to make the tears stop. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Without hesitation, she was handed a silk robe and the fastened buttons were undone. Her mother was close but sounded far away, the only words Phoebe caught were “later date” and “different dresses” and she shook her head profusely. “I don’t want to get married, I can’t, I’m sorry.” She collapsed onto the chair, head in her hands and repeating the same apology. A fresh wave of tears came. “I don’t know why I’m not happy.” She cried harder, leaning into her mother’s warm embrace when the woman sat beside her. “I love him, I know I do, I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”
Elena soothed and shushed her until the tears subsided and Phoebe could breathe again. Dresses and veils were removed from sight, the room restored to its former state. Meanwhile, Phoebe’s life was turning upside down.
– 23 FEBRUARY 2026 –
The palace had never felt so impossibly large until now. The corridor leading to Sebastian felt twice as long, each step Phoebe took increasing her heart rate. She had the conversation with her parents, one relief knowing they supported her choice, but now she had to break the news to her fiance. She would return the ring, the palace would make an announcement, and they would move on with their lives. Simple enough.
Inside the sitting room, Sebastian greeted her like he always did: clasping her hand and kissing each cheek, unsuspecting. They sat on one of the ornate sofas, knees brushing until Phoebe shifted ever so slightly away. “I was told you needed to see me urgently, is everything alright?” He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and Phoebe had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying right then and there. He treated her well, what was she doing? Her heart and her head weren’t on the same page.
“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t meet his gaze, eyes boring holes into her lap as she fiddled with the ring on her finger. “I don’t think I can marry you.” The room went still. Phoebe pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, repeating a muffled apology. She still couldn’t look at him, even when he started speaking again. “Have you fallen out of love with me?” She shook her head. “Have I done something to upset you?” Another shake. “Do you doubt how much I love you?” Every question was answered by shaking her head. Her reasoning made less sense when he framed it that way.
“Then what has changed?” Another question she didn’t really have an answer for. “I don’t know, I just. . .” Phoebe couldn’t find the words, instead pressing her palm to her chest, “It doesn’t feel good here, I don’t know why, you’ve done nothing wrong.” She wouldn’t stop apologizing, not when she was uprooting everything they’d spent the last few years talking about. Trembling fingers slipped the ring off her finger, holding it out toward him. A weight lifted off her when he took it, and maybe she could get through the next few minutes of a goodbye.
“I remember the day I picked this out,” he said, an unnerving peacefulness to his words. Her heart dropped watching him turn the ring over in his grasp, recounting their engagement. “Something timeless and elegant, just like you.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, a foreign sadness deep behind his eyes. He lifted one of her hands in his. “This isn’t goodbye.” His calmness continued to make her heart sink. He wasn’t angry or upset. In fact, he sounded so certain about this misunderstanding. The ring was back on her finger before she realized what he’d done.
He hadn’t let go of her hand, guiding her off the couch and across the room with a light touch at the small of her back. They stopped in front of the ceiling-high mirror, Sebastian’s hand sliding around her waist. Their reflection painted a picturesque fairytale, a match-made prince and princess that everyone adored and approved of. “We’ve spent years building this life, can’t you picture it?”
A month ago, she would’ve beamed at the thought. Sebastian spoke of the wedding, their proud and happy families, children they’d spent many afternoons discussing. He had a plan for everything, had she really given her opinion at all? Or was it swept under the rug because it didn’t fit his vision? She finally, finally, looked at herself in the mirror, not even realizing she’d forced a smile onto her face. Her eyes were distant though, catching the ring’s reflection. The solitaire diamond, one that made her cry and laugh and be the one thing she was giddy to show off to whomever would listen, now weighed her down.
Outwardly, she looked perfect. They looked perfect. Phoebe couldn’t find an ounce of excitement in her half of the mirror. No certainty. No remnants of the woman who once dreamed of getting married to the man beside her. “I can’t.” Her throat ran dry long ago, voice hoarse as she tried to stand firm in her decision. A tear slipped free and her breathing hitched. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Each step backward was a twist of the knife, more sorries leaving her until she was fumbling with the door handle and leaving her future behind.
though he was no stranger to being pampered - the label saw to that - he wasn't the type to wander into a spa if he didn't have to. that said, it was his duty to see what his older sister was up to. brighten her day with his lovely face, so to speak. he knew he was a polarizing member of the family, but it was a somber time for all of the spencers. maybe his returning to town wouldn't be so irritating this time around.
he stepped into the spa, winking at the receptionist as he strolled past the desk. did she recognize him? maybe or maybe not, but he wasn't about to ask for permission ( or make an appointment ) to see his own sibling. he knew where gwen's office was and he had no trouble finding it, bringing up a hand to knock his knuckles against the door politely before letting himself in.
“ gwenny! ” exclaimed as he plopped himself down into the chair across from her desk. “ long time no see. i hope you haven't forgotten about me, but hey, how could you? i'm on the radio, ” he beamed. “ how are you? you know, really. aside from all the morbid death stuff. ” it wasn't in his nature to be immediately sentimental. he'd get sad later, but for now he needed to just be himself.
the spa's doors never closed, even when gwen found herself in a living nightmare. business ran as usual. appointments were scheduled, clients serviced, new hires trained, all with a smile. granted, she wasn't alone, the employees covering the menial tasks as gwen packed her calendar. no time to think, no time to cry! office time meant bills, inventory, payroll, all the mind-numbing tasks littering her desk. an unexpected knock interrupted her paper shuffling, gwen double checking her calendar just in case she forgot an appointment or meeting. she should've known a spencer was on the other side.
"beau," she greeted flatly, suspiciously. he was too cheerful for her liking, and any other time, gwen would've gladly accepted it. her lips pursed together in a hum, the slightest smirk tugging at one corner. "we don't play your music here. this is a place of relaxation, not . . . whatever you call that noise." any hint of amusement vanished with his next words, color draining from her face. the morbid death stuff. detached. unemotional. beau. "everything was fine until i was so cruelly reminded of our loss." nothing was fine and she was far from forgetting the active grief riddling her bones. "i seem to only hear from you when something bad occurs, or that's when you choose to show your face, please don't make it a habit." she settled back in the oversized chair, legs tucking beneath her. "i take it you'll leave us after the mourning period has passed?"
over the past ten years, fitz had found his favorite ( and least favorite ) spots to hang out. a lack of changing locale meant knowing the town inside and out, whether he wanted to or not. the local teahouse had become one of his frequented places; a favorite chair and table, a preferred drink order, a cashier he especially liked to annoy. the distant sound of lo-fi beats playing through the overhead speakers made the front room a decent chillout area, and a great place to people-watch as he ignored the unfinished lyrics in his notebook.
as he paid for his matcha latte and turned to leave, he caught wind of that same pretty face he'd been thinking about since they first met a few weeks back in the tattoo shop. a similar, fragrant perfume washed over his senses, and he caught himself smiling at her before he could stop it. “ well, if it isn't miss fancy pants. funny seeing you here, ” he teased, though he wondered if she even remembered him. probably not. “ what's your drink of choice? let me guess, some sugary macchuccino, or some such nonsense? ”
slowly, very slowly, phoebe began warming up to the town. the cafes were quaint, not shabby. the neon diner signs were vintage, not outdated, though she still refused to eat there. and tattoo shops weren't scary, just different. so, she found herself at lg bean as part of her mission to try every cafe in town and determine her favorite, blue hues scanning the menu while she stood in line. she was losing the habit of checking over her shoulder every few minutes, invisible the way her parents intended when shipping her off. normalcy was rather peaceful, though certain luxuries of a gilded life were missed.
a familiar hard-to-forget voice snapped phoebe out of her thoughts, gaze dropping only to land on tousled black hair and a smile that made her forget english if she stared too long. "phoebe," she corrected with a smile. certainly, hopefully, he hadn't forgotten her name. "actually. . .," she started, accent catching on the word, "i'm getting an iced vanilla matcha latte, with oat milk." the aroma wafting from his cup caught her by surprise. "i wouldn't have guessed you drink matcha also, i assume theirs is made well then? if that is your drink of choice?"
"But luthiers don't fix them. Plucked, bowed, and fretted strings only," Shay replied. Yes, technically pianos had strings, but they required vastly different construction and repair methods. Plus, the shop was small. Too small to fit a 500+ pound instruments inside. As she continued, Shay couldn't help the tug of a grin that pulled at his mouth. Playing an instrument was a wonderful stress relief. He'd found solace in the guitar years ago, and still found it today. "We do indeed make violins here," Shay said. "What kind of sound are you going for? Sticking to classical? Or dipping your toes into something new? Bluegrass? Folk? Maybe a little jazz?" Shay quirked a brow. "You look like you could make bluegrass work, you know?" By that he meant, of course, she looked like the exact opposite of someone who would be playing Bluegrass.
phoebe hummed in faux dissatisfaction, she was far from a professional in this field. "classical, yes." she understand folk and jazz, but bluegrass stumped her. brows knitted together the longer she thought about what sound bluegrass meant and if she'd ever heard it before, finally tearing her gaze away from the array of parts on display. "what is bluegrass?" the slightest disdain mixed with her curiosity. "it sounds so. . . rural." and then immediately overthought her comments. "i am merely looking for something to play in my downtime." which she had plenty of here. "you know how to build violins so. . . do you play also?"
would you believe us if we said that wasn't really BRITTANY SNOW? well, it isn't .ᐟ.ᐟ that's GWENDOLYN SPENCER, a proud resident of pinehaven for the last 37 YEARS. you can find them working over at SAGE & STONE as the OWNER. they're 37, but they hardly look that old! it must be the washington weather that keeps them looking so young .ᐟ.ᐟ word around the town is that they're SELFISH, OVERDRAMATIC, CONTROLLING, but we think that's silly. we feel like they're much more CONFIDENT, EXPRESSIVE, PERSISTENT. if we had to pick one song to describe HER, it would be GIRL ON FIRE BY ALICIA KEYS. see ya 'round, GWEN .ᐟ.ᐟ
BASICS
full name: gwendolyn sage spencer
nicknames: gwen, winnie (off limits)
gender: cis woman
pronouns: she, her
sexuality: heterosexual
age: thirty-seven
birthdate: october 23
occupation: owner of sage & stone, former emt
ABOUT (tw: death, miscarriage, infertility, divorce)
gwendolyn sage spencer was born to cash and heather spencer on october 23.
the house was lively with so many children running around and gwen made sure she was getting as much (or more) attention than her siblings. the feat wasn't that difficult, gwen unabashedly loud (and one would have to be in that household). still, she was doted on constantly, boosting her confidence and self-assuredness.
while the family continued to grow, they remained tight-knit. they traveled to races whenever they could to support cash, and gwen made sure she was always in view of cameras, commanding their attention even at young ages.
she became an emt at 19, after graduating and completing training. she was full-time then and the job became her life.
at 20, gwen became engaged to her high school sweetheart, the pair having dated for 6 years at that point. their relationship was great and gwen saw herself living the white picket fence life with her future husband. they wed when she was 21. . . and things started to slowly crumble.
(infertility tw) they tried growing their family, but gwen couldn't sustain a pregnancy. this went on for years and she became scared of seeing a positive pregnancy test, she was 24 when she asked to put a pause on a family. they could circle back in a couple years, and while her husband didn't want to keep waiting, he begrudgingly agreed. he didn't want to adopt either, he wanted a child of his own.
(death tw) a couple years later, gwen and her ems team responded to a car accident in town. the fire department was already on scene, cutting through the metal frame when her heart dropped into her stomach. she knew that car, all too well. shock and adrenaline were the only things keeping gwen on her feet as she tended to her father, pleading and reassuring him that everything would be okay. she was taken off the case when they arrived at the hospital, and then reality hit her. she was the one to notify her mom and siblings. the day still haunts her.
grief consumed her, but she threw herself into more shifts and longer hours. at one point, her husband said she needed to cut back on work or risk losing him, so she stepped down to part-time. she couldn't give up the job fully but compartmentalizing her feelings wasn't helping either. and now her husband was appeased to actually spend time with her outside of "good mornings" and "good nights."
much to his dismay though, gwen started crafting her own business with her free time. between checking on her family and now trying to make two jobs work, the marriage was cracking even further. she needed to stay busy, and her own business meant keeping control of one thing in her life. resentment festered between them but gwen was in denial. their marriage was fine! she was fine! their breaking point came a couple years after her father's death, gwen still grieving and having bouts of tears when her husband told her enough is enough, she needed to figure out how to move on so they could move on. of course, this upset her and him saying he was filing for divorce was enough for her to give up on him and their marriage. gwen beat him to filing, driven by pride and self-preservation.
she opened sage & stone, a day spa a few years after that. the spa offers nail services, massages, facials, and the like. those four walls became her safe haven, though she also maintained her job as an emt for a short while longer.
(death tw) the spencer matriarch's passing is reopening old wounds for gwen. she fully stepped down from her emt position to take care of family matters and make sure her siblings don't fall off the tracks. she's at a breaking point herself but refuses to admit needing help, she's fine!
