EVERETT, A.

Everett Anderson32. Renound SculpterI've got a restless heart burning up inside my bones. Just the kid looking out the window over rusted rundown moon. wall eyes, and a thicken smile. radio drowning on and on. Don't hold back, don't hesitate. 'Cause we've got fire, it's in our blood. it all starts here.

[everands]

favorite time-killer? do you believe in fate? do you have a bucket list?

favorite time killer?

I wish I could say something meaningful like ‘I love to read a nice book’—which, don’t get me wrong, I have several littered bookshelves, so that is partially true. But, I mostly like to just watch reruns of kitchen nightmares on my phone. 

do you believe in fate?

yes. 100%.

do you have a bucket list?

I add to it almost daily.

[everands]

have you ever made sculptures of people you know in real life? who do you admire and why? do you go to sleep in socks?

have you ever made sculptures of people you know in real life?

Every now and again there will be the client who wishes to have a sculpture in their image, however, I’ve never really sculpted someone I truly know and care about before. The pressure would be massive, but it’s certainly something I’d like to do at some point.

who do you admire and why?

I admire lots of people, each for their own special reason.

do you go to sleep in socks?

yes and no. I fall asleep with both on, but I usually either kick off either one or both before the night is over.

[everands]

What kind of car do you drive?

This may sound a bit acquisitive of me, but I actually own two vehicles; one four door chevy silverado (mostly for work), and an infiniti g37 sport. 9 times out of 10 I find myself preferring the silverado, only because I spend most of my time in it due to work, and transferring of projects. 

[emmmpty]

Anonymously message me (3) things you want to know about me.

[everands]

‘ A. TAYLOR :

Ever since coming back to Wilmington, Amy’s days have been filled with run-ins with people she used to know a lifetime ago. Each of those encounters had a strong dose of awkwardness injected into it, reminding the two people that although they had known each other before, they were strangers now. Each of those encounters left Amy with a bitter aftertaste and a strong sense of guilt in her gut: it was her fault, she had cut the cords and left without looking back. But running into Everett had an altogether different aura around it: perhaps the guilt was there somewhere, hiding under the excitement of the reunion, but it was completely lacking in awkwardness. It was as if she had pressed pause on their relationship when she left, and now that she had landed back on that very same couch next to him, she hit resume and found that not everything had to change in time. Surely, the worry lines on his forehead went deeper than before, and there might have even been a few gray hairs sprinkled among the dark brown, but the feeling was unchanged. Her heart still fluttered with lightness she hadn’t felt since Brooks, and all the stress just washed away from her shoulders, leaving her happy to just be in the moment, with him. In the dark chambers of her dead heart, something came to life when she sat next to him: hope.

“No suing will be necessary,” she assured him, noticing how hoarse his voice had gotten, and she knew the cause of it. As much as the feeling was the same, so were some things about the man she could have given her heart to a long time ago. “Are you so stuck in your work that you forgot to talk? Have you even had anything to eat?” Her eyes glistened, remembering just how many times he got so caught up in himself and what he was doing, that he forgot to take care of his most basic needs. It was one of the perks of having Amy glued to his side that summer: she made sure that he was fed, and in return he provided the company she needed to swallow down the food she needed for sustenance. The smile on his lips hadn’t changed, either, though she thought she saw a hint of sadness in its corners, as if the time apart had left its mark after all. Or it could have been the words that saddened him now, knowing that she hadn’t stuck around before? Whatever it was, Amy had a smile in place to reassure him, her head moving in a decisive nod. “Please do,” she mumbled, her words almost a whisper as he gave her the quick notes on what she’d missed, eliciting a chuckle and drawing out a smile on her face as he joked and explained the years that had passed. “God, I missed your humor. No one makes jokes like that, and you’ve always known how to make me laugh,” she said, unable to tear her gaze away from exploring the familiar features of his face. All the regret she once felt, all the wondering if she’d see him again, it was all finally quenched, and something akin to relief washed over her like a tidal wave. Peace. “I want to see all of your work. And I want to see you find your muse again because there has to be so much more left in you,” she had never been more certain of anything in her life, not since Brooks’ death. “Thank you. I have to say, the years look good on you, Ev. Even better than youth did, somehow.”

                        A time ago perhaps they would have been together. Now she returned as an old friend. One who he’d previously entrusted with some of his most favorite memories. She had left on a whim, but those memories she had failed to destruct. Apart of him thanked her for that. It’s not as though she made assure that he felt hatred in his heart upon her dispersal. She left quietly. It hurt just the same, but there was never an ounce of resentment. Upon seeing her, he realized he was simply happy to be in her presence again. It had been too long, and there were too many things he’d had left to tell her. They had a lot to catch up on naturally, and for once he didn’t mind taking the time. It was often he preferred to be at home, cooped up in his studio working on another masterpiece. Social interactions were often foreign to him. Sure, when he was home with his family he was a lively man, one who held a lot of sarcasm and wit between his teeth. Sorrow in his eyes. Everett had a past. He had a history. He had many sides to himself that often went cloaked in the shadows. And Amy Taylor knew all of them. In such a short time they’d mapped eachother out on the back of their hands. And while time had surely passed, the mutual feeling between them hadn’t. They cared for one another. Truly. Deeply. Secretly. But also not so secret. They were friends—at best. Great friends. And no amount of distance could ever alter that notion in his heart. One that stood for her, and her alone.

“Well good,—in all my years I’ve failed to have to attend court for anything but jury duty. I’d like to keep things that way,” Everett shrugged into a laugh, hands still clasped before himself. At her question his laughter fell into a hum, one of mere thought. Had he eaten? He’d certainly had a bountiful of coffee...but had he eaten. Furrowing his brow, he shook his head. “Well, no, actually, I don’t believe I did,” Flushing with partial embarrassment he lifted a hand. “I guess you see that things really haven’t changed in your absence. As always you have impeccable timing. Tell me, did you sense my malnourishment?” Amy had always had a way of seeing right through his exterior. She’d be one to call him out on his lack of taking care of himself with a single look. Surely she could see that the artist was stressed—and in need of more than just one thing. Some food, a shower, and some rest just might do him some good. Not that he didn’t look well groomed, but the man was known to take multiple showers a day. Amy knew that as well. She knew a lot of things. And so if she told him to hold her to staying, he assumed that meant this time she would. Perhaps that was foolish of him, but he was thinking on his heart, and not so much his mind. So with a nod in her direction he offered another smile, one that insisted he would. “Alright, if you’re betting on it,” Everett scooped her hand back up into her own as her laughter fell over them, and he shortly couldn’t help but join her. “Let’s just say I enjoy making you laugh. You have a tendency to bring out the stand up comedian in me.” Rolling his eyes, he glanced over to his work that sat on the table before them. “Well...what’s your day lookin’ like Taylor? Do you have some time in for an tour?” As his eyes met hers he couldn’t help but glance over her in a moment of pure adoration, before lifting a brow. 

[everands]

‘ S. LEVIN :

“I’m not sure. There was never really much focus on it. Like, I think that we go somewhere, and I don’t believe in hell, but that’s pretty much the extent of it. I like the thought that you go somewhere, process it, and then go to heaven, though. Or I don’t know. The concept that you’re essentially stuck reliving and reliving until you finally get it right, I guess.” Sabrina had pondered it before, but never arrived at a conclusion herself. One time she asked a rabbi and the rabbi said that it didn’t matter, and part of Sabrina wanted to push for what he thought, because she’d never heard a rabbi be so short on an explanation before, but she left it at that. She asked her mom once and her mom said heaven. Sabrina nodded at his reply. She understood what he meant. She’d never faced real flooding back in Florida, just the streets’ drainage systems sometimes failing. Snow was scarier to her though. “I mean, yeah, I totally get that. I don’t think any place could beat Miami for me, either. It just built me in a way.” She almost caught herself saying everything, but then she realized she didn’t absolutely miss everything. “Well, I think I miss the food and culture mostly. That’s not to say that Wilmington is bland or anything, there’s just a different vibrancy, I suppose.” 

                    “I guess in some ways, we feel the same when it comes to that. Apart of me wishes we only die to be born again. A fresh start each time. Another hopes there’s some place to go. The Ferris Bueller effect doesn’t appeal to me though,...I mean, don’t get me wrong I get the appeal, I just personally don’t wish to relieve the same day over and over. I’ve never really been a fan of puzzles.” The rasp in his chuckle was brought on from the remains of a slight chill in the air, and he rocked on the heels of his feet absentmindedly. “There really is no place like home then, eh?” Everett couldn’t help but have his mind flooded by memories of a life he’d partially left behind. He traveled as often as he could but Seattle still managed to always feel too far away. The alternative was living in a place that made him feel like he could be someone else, and lead a better life—but truly, there was nothing like the place where the people you love most resided. “I miss the weather. As stupid as that sounds, I’m a rain kind of guy. I love the way rain alters the world into an entirely different universe. If that makes any sense...”

[everands]

‘ C. MCCOY :

                                 They were grown ups now, and it was supposedly time they acted like it, but there was zero harm in touching on the past and joking about it, right? Some of the nights out on the town with the man sitting beside him had been quite a few high lights of his adulthood, at least before the world wore down heavy on his shoulders and he was forced to grow up again. Still, the reminder brought a grin to crack over his face and the ease of teasing Everett almost like a second hand nature to him. “Bertha, huh? You couldn’t have choose a woman at least with a name that doesn’t terrify the living crap outta me? No offense to your lil lady over there, but she could easily be mistaken for one of those one bushy brow woman who shove bread down your throat to fatten you up for the winter with her.” Calvin said, shoulders shrugging and balancing the coffee in between his thighs to look over at his friend. “Amy Taylor? Amy—” Calvin creased his brows together in though, attempting to piece together the name and face. He had met an Amy a few days prior and she had left a remarkable imprint on his brain, but wasn’t so sure he could go as far as calling the fine ass Amy Everett’s Amy. “Shit, man. How’d that go? You aren’t rocking a shiner, so I’m gonna assume it went fine?”

                            “No, it’s most certainly Bertha. Don’t you see Cal, it’s a thing. Older women. The more terrifying the name, the better.” Honestly, Everett wasn’t sure where he’d gotten his dry sense of humor from. Somedays he presumed it was his grandfather, but often times if he looked carefully enough he could see that familiar flicker in his grandmother’s eyes. The one that told him he’d reminded her of his father every time he opened his mouth. “Are you comparing my woman to the old witch from Hansel and Gretel? Now that’s just wrong.” Everett smirked, thoroughly enjoying his jokes but not so much his drink anymore. As he set the mug down with a gruff he realized he was in the mood from something a bit stronger. Perhaps he would escape at some point to a far off bar. Only after he finished his project of course, but the urge was ever tempting. His brow furrowing as Calvin stumbled over his words, Everett clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder, laughter burrowed in his chest. “Yes, Amy Taylor. You alright there man?” The chuckle in his throat was still evident as he released him. “It went fine, all things considered. I’m happy she’s back—I just hadn’t expected to see her now. She left so long ago...” Realizing he was rambling off he shook his head. “Actually, y’know daylight doesn’t sound too bad right now? You in for a change in location?”

[everands]

‘ A. OLIVERA :

Avery smiled, because they got it, they really did. Passion, being passionate about something, was something they never got tired of feeling, or seeing in other people. It made everyone so much more interesting, when they were passionate about something, whatever it could possibly be. “That’s…really interesting, actually. The drawing part, I figured that was part of it, but painting? I never saw that coinciding very much with sculpting.” Sculpture to them was always a far off thought, distant because they were never very good at it. “Oh,” Avery waved it away, “just some doctor I got into it with over fuckin’ nothing.”

                         “Yeah painting sort of just helps inspire. Drawing genuinely helps with the actual bringing it to life. If I can feel the curves in my hands while drawing, I can most certainly do so while sculpting.” Everett nodded along shortly, finding it hard to express his process in mere words. Although there was nothing he could be ashamed about. At the end of the day, everyone had their own way of making their craft happen, and combining three methods was the way he won his. “What’s your favorite subject...to capture, I mean?” Curiosity quirked his eyebrow, as a welcoming smile drifted across his features. “Ah, doctors—I’ve never been a fan of them. I figure if I’m in the presence of them, something must be off in life.”

[everands]

‘ N. LEWIS :

          Her hues remained locked on his face as Harrison carried on about a sailing trip that no doubt never happened. The most amusing part of it, though, was the fact that Natalie could almost actually picture him out a sea. Maybe he was just that believable of a storyteller? “You know, the didn’t mention a damn thing about it… if you ask me that’s ground for a firing spree.” Assuming either of their ‘minions’ existed. Tutting her tongue against the roof of her mouth the woman continued, though. “I can’t say I blame you for bunkering down at home after a trip like that. I’m just thankful you docked before the storm hit. You’re one captain I wouldn’t want to see go down with the ship.” Underneath the veil of made up fantasies was a small kernel of truth. Their friendship was perhaps the most unusual one she’d ever had, but his presence was appreciated in her life. By now she genuinely expected to always have him around— even if she never learned his real name. There were days when she was tempted to drop the act and cave to reality, but there was still a lingering part of her that was reluctant to lose the comfort of anonymity. Truth be told, Nat didn’t care much for who she was most days. It was why she gave herself so many new identities when he was around. With anyone else she was forced to own up to her laundry list of faults and flaws. Here, though, tucked into the small crevices between his frame and that of the couch, she lived an illustrious life of glamour and prestige. “Which Oscar was that again? By now I’ve won so many I can hardly keep track.” Acting entirely blasé about it all she waved a languid hand through the air, punctuating it all with a single roll of her eyes. “I suppose I could invite you over to the estate one of these days to have a look, or feel as it is, though. Have your people call my people and we’ll set it up.” Again, it was unlikely that her promises would ever get carried out, but she allowed herself a brief moment to wonder what would happen if he didn’t get granted access to the authentic parts of her daily life. Would they still sit around drinking hot cups of coffee, on Bexley’s couch instead of the shop’s, laughing as if they were getting paid to do so? Or would he eventually tire of her like nearly everyone else? It was that fear, and many similar ones, that kept her from completely opening up. “You’ll be happy to know Merlot is only one of the many options. I have it on good authority that the tequila snow cones can hold their own, and whiskey ain’t losing the race, either.” When a giggle or five erupted out of her next she challenged anyone to ask them both to quiet down with a smirking stare. Maybe if they could just relax for a second of their lives they’d be having fun, too. A level of seriousness entered her gaze as she trickled to a stop, though, turning her hues down to the sketched work. “Yes, I’d imagine you come across all sorts of interesting people and pieces in your travels.” She wasn’t about to call him out on what she suspected was an obvious deflection from her assumption that they were his; that’d be in complete opposition of the game. Nat couldn’t help from sliding a hidden, and sincere, compliment in there, though. “Whoever he is sure has talent, though. I know next to nothing about art—” seeming to catch herself she glanced up and amended, “— aside from that art history degree I got on a whim during my time at Oxford, of course, and even I can see he has true promise. These look great. If you ever happen to run across him again you’ll have to make sure to let him know I said so.”

                                 A year out at sea sounded like the most tempting of dreams. One’s he’d stayed up late thinking about, as he stared at his wood paneled ceiling. Often times he felt trapped in his own head. The curse of an artist was perhaps constantly thinking too much. Many days he spent in his studio, thinking of his escape. Overtime he’d become a runner at heart. He’d ventured from Seattle to Wilmington, and now apart of him wished to be elsewhere for his current residence. Maybe it was the sense of not belonging. A feeling brought on by years of questioning his father’s abandonment. Sure, as the years had gone on he’d saw him more, but Everett knew most of his issues were due to the very man he called ‘Dad’. Watching as the humor filled the brunette’s eyes and spread over her cheeks, he smiled. “Don’t fire the poor guy, he probably is just forgetful. He’s only human after all.” At her Captain comment he pretended to tilt a hat he didn’t quite have, before relaxing back into the cushions beneath them. “No worries, you could never get rid of me that easy, Athena. Besides I happen to enjoy the snow very much. Not particularly a storm, but the slight winter wonderland will do.” A nod of his head was followed by the sipping of his drink, his head swirling with thoughts of a life he hadn’t quite lived. But the woman who sat beside him nearly made them fill as though they were mere possibilities. He craved for a sense of adventure, and she always had a way of bringing to the table just that. They hardly knew each other’s names, let alone their backgrounds. For all Everett knew she could be a thief in the night. A criminal. A horrible human being. ( Or a vigilante. That would always be fun ). But he could care either way. For now she was a friend. A good one at that. Never prying too much. Just simply checking in with a playful conversation. One that could never quite darken his day. Athena brought light, and with it a fire inside of him arose. Muse and inspiration. Something he rarely felt on a whim. Gasping at her partial invitation, he sat upward, hazel eyes locking with deep brown. “Well I don’t believe it, you’re inviting me to your estate after all this time. I must say I fear this moment would never come.” He broke shortly after into a fit of laughter, but the faux surprise was soon conformed into a sense of wonder. What visiting her home would actually be like. What she might think of his home. It certainly was no estate but it certainly was on the larger side. Perhaps he was better off stating that he lived on his ship for most of the year, and lived in beach houses the rest. “I could most certainly do for a snow cone then. But maybe we shouldn’t venture to your estate tonight. A bar instead? I’m sure they’ll have some semblance of an icy drink.” He had no knowledge if she drank or not, as they mostly met up in coffee shops where beverages of the alcoholic nature were not available. However, it was a shot in the dark that he didn’t mind taking. This was their own game after all. The possibilities were endless. As her eyes skimmed his work, his heart collided against his chest. A silent habit that he’d accustomed over years of being put out on display. But at her comment he relaxed, breaking out into a large grin. “I’ll be sure to let him know. I know he’ll be greatly appreciative.” 

[everands]

‘ N. OWENS :

                               With one disbelieving look cast in Everett’s direction she knew he could tell she wasn’t buying it, nor would she ever. One could appreciate a hard day’s work but she could never imagine powering through hours upon hours without a break. Perhaps that was why she was there, for the little friendly reminder and push to get him up on his feet once or twice. “How are your hands not cramping up a storm? I don’t understand you.” The brunette shook her head with laughter bubbling from her throat, moving up to the front of the line. “One Americano with two pumps of vanilla, and whatever the crazy man is having.” Naomi thrust her thumb over her shoulder for Everett’s direction and waited until he reordered something to keep him going. “At this rate either or is bound to happen, so you might as well savor the taste this time.” She said, moving down the counter where she would wait to pick up her drink. “Me? Oh nothing as exciting as making a masterpiece—“ Naomi laughed, shaking her head. “I’m covering for the history teacher while she’s on vacation with her husband, so the music teacher is in the language arts hall for a two weeks, so I’m stuck grading her papers. So entertaining, I know. Go ahead and be jealous.”

                              Everett glanced at his own calloused fingers as she questioned his capability of long handed work. He could understand the disbelief, but it had been partially true. The man had grown accustomed to long hours with the pen in his hand. Or the paintbrush, or the clay. It all fell together really in one fluid motion. “Didn’t I tell you? I’m an android. The new gen,” He shoved his hands in his pockets loosely. “Sophia is my sister.” The humor was dry but his smile was dripping with a sense of childish bliss. It had a way of coming out around Naomi. She’d always been one the man felt he could relax around. Away with the professional facade, and the ability to truly just be himself. Hazel eyes peering up at the menu then in a slight squint, he perked up at the sight of a drink he’d had yet to try. “Ooh, the uh, Caramel Macchiato doesn’t sound too bad. I’ll have that,” Reaching for his wallet, he lifted a hand over Naomi’s own to block her payment. Motioning to the fact that he would be paying for both drinks with his own card. After all he was a gentleman. As the pair moved down the customer line, he reached his hand up to scratch of his neck, a tired slouch in his shoulders. “Oh the life of a teacher sounds so entirely glamorous. Truly, i’m rethinking my career as we speak,” Laughing he swung an arm around her shoulders. “No, but you love it. I know you do. And you’re good at it. Not everyone gets the pleasure of being apart of a kid’s future...Perhaps you are lucky, Noms.”

[everands]

‘ A. TAYLOR :

Amy never expected to find it in Wilmington again, but here it was now, right in front of her eyes: serenity, giddiness, even. Excitement filled her up to the brim just at the sight of those familiar, warm eyes that shined like a starry sky, and that gentle smile that she couldn’t imagine her days without a long time ago. However you’d call what she shared with Everett, it was brief and it was pure, and it pulled her out of her own darkness. For that short span of time, Amy had once again been her true self. In all honesty, without even knowing it, Everett had saved her, or at least postponed her misery by some time, and the gratitude came bubbling back, along with that something else which had put an abrupt stop to their something-more-than-friendship. The way her name rolled off his tongue hadn’t changed a single bit, and it sent shivers down her spine, especially when he called her the nickname that was reserved solely for him. “It’s been a while since anyone’s called me that, you know?” She hummed happily, the rumbling laughter he let out a deep baritone to her raspy chuckling alto. And when his hand squeezed hers gently, she was taken back through time and space, back to when they seemed to be barely more than kids who had gone through too much and found comfort in each other. “October? Well, that just means I’m gonna have to stick around long enough to see that finally happen,” she assured him, and the itch to leave the town subsided with the prospect of spending time with him again. Once more, he became the calm in the storm that was constantly raging in her mind, in her heart. “I haven’t read those pages, though! So you can’t leave it at that,” she threatened, breathing out a loud sigh. “Oh, I’ve been… You know, the years haven’t been easy, but I’ve gotten through it alive, so that’s what counts, right?”

                          It was hard to think about the time that had passed between the last time he’d seen her. So much had changed—he had changed. There were many parts of himself that only she had ever been aware of, and years had a way of dimming such lights that perhaps should have never been let on. That was the price they’d both paid for distance. He’d understood why she left, apart of him always had known she would. However, that had done nothing for the questions left roaming in his head. The amount of dreams he’d had of this exact moment. Reuniting. It had always gone so differently. He’d hear a knock at his door, and upon opening it, he’d find her on his front porch, bag in hand and a shrug in her shoulders. Perhaps he’d caught himself falling asleep to too many romadies to really picture it logically. Of course it would be in a coffee shop. It had been one of their favorite places to venture to in the morning. Or rather, he’d pry himself off her couch with intentions to get coffee and bagels before she’d fumbled out of her own bed. They’d been those kind of friends. The kind that crashed at one another’s places, even though they’d spent such little time together. When Amy Taylor had once again fell away to the shadows, he’d felt real loss. That kind of emptiness didn’t simply arise for anyone. Especially not someone he’d known for a mere month and some days. But she had left her mark, and as she sat before him now, hair shorter and eyes brighter, he realized how deep the scars went. “I would hope so, I wouldn’t have to sue anyone for copyright clauses.” Everett joked, voice a quite rasp from it’s previous lack of use. He’d sat quietly focused for hours on end, that by this point—talking almost felt foreign. “Stick around...” Everett’s lips fell into a small smile, one only meant for her. And he did his best to collect himself, sitting up slightly in his seat. “Well, I guess I’m gonna hold you to that.” His eyes caught hers in a silent gaze, before his chest rose with a sharp intake of breath. “There’s not much more to the story than you learned a few years ago. I’m still a starving artist—although I’m starving in a different sense of the word. I have money, god, perhaps too much of it to know what to do with...but, my inspiration has been lacking.” His fingers locked themselves together as his eyebrows shot upward on his head. “Anyways, I guess it’s just a mid-life crisis. But I’ve always been susceptible to those. After all it is allergy season.” Humor had always been his defense, one that he was sure she could see right through. “It surely is. I certainly can’t complain with your survival. You look great, Aimes. Truly.”

[everands]

‘ C. MCCOY :

                              “You’re right, I can’t exactly judge. I’ve burned a lot of bridges in attempts to make it through.” It was ironic that he meant it both figuratively and honestly, because quite a few people around town hadn’t gotten the general grace of learning much about McCoy’s past. Not even those closest to him, or whom he considered to be a friend. Calvin reclined back in his spot about the time Everett sat up, rubbing over his knuckles before stealing a drink. “What, you saying you’ve got some suitors that would offer up their couch for you? Fuck, man. That would be a hell of a better time than some dirty couch in the middle of a coffee shop with middle aged woman around here eyeing you.” He joked, brow cocked upwards. It was clear as day how different they took their jobs — Everett went out to find an escape to work in peace, while Calvin easily brought his wild night from the evening prior behind closed doors of his often despite his barks of keeping order within the walls of the precinct. “Sounds like it, man. I thought I was a workaholic, but you put me to fuckin’ shame. We need to get you some sunlight and some social interaction.”

                         “Mm—” Everett pulled his mug from his lips, pointing a finger at Calvin. “Now that, is something we both know to be true.” It was no secret that Calvin McCoy knew how to party. In his earlier Wilmington days, Everett had enjoyed quite a few late nights with the man. Though as he’d grown to be more artistically recognized and the work had begun to pile up, Everett had traded his late nights out for restless nights spent in the studio. Both men had earned their perks from either side. Their friendship being one of their proudest takeaways. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say an abundance of offers, but I’ve got enough to be happy with myself. Besides, Bertha and I have got quite the connection,” He jokingly nodded over to an elderly woman mixing sugar into her tea. Everett knew himself that his list of suitors wasn’t entirely lengthy, but it was fun to play along with the message of which Calvin had implied. Interestingly enough, somewhat of a ghost from Everett’s passed had popped up in recent weeks, and the mention of suitors only plagued his mind with thoughts of her. “Speaking of social interaction though...you’ll never guess who’s made their way back into town...Amy Taylor.” Everett breathed out a sigh, before taking a long sip of his drink once more. His nose scrunched up at the bitter taste before he groaned. 

[everands]

‘ A. MARTINS :

She smiled, allowing herself to relax just a little further into her spot beside him, her mind attempting to picture the other woman. Smiling a little more at the person she had conjured. Alana wanted to know more but she didn’t want to hurt him, to cross a line, and so her lips remained closed to the bubbling of questions. Happy to simply smile and look to her hands—the table—his work. “She’s amazing,” she would agree, nodding her head as her mind turned back to Grace Marks. That woman—the character—she hoped the reality would matched. “She’s an enigma,” she would say then, looking to her hands as that smile turned a little shy, “In the best sort of way…” was there any other way, she wondered, gaze lifting as he would allow her to look at his work. Taking his sketchpad into her hands she would look at him briefly, “Thank you,” she offered, unable to shake the feeling that this was something special he was allowing her to do. Honey hues swept over the page then, not daring to look any further into those works of art, and unable to shift the near sense of awe from her eyes. “You’re really good,” she would say after a long moment of contented silence. “Really, really good.”

                            Everett would’ve thought that over the years he would have grown accustomed to the reactions he received on his work. Though each year he’d proven himself wrong. It never got old, the looks of appreciation, astonishment. Almost as though the person viewing his work had doubted that he’d be as good as he was. It was his favorite part of being an artist. The doubt that came along with it. The underestimation. It was the most humbling experience. He’d never understood how one could be so confident in their work. At the end of the day, someone could always frown instead of smile. Someone could always wind up hating it. When you held out for the honest reactions. The pure happiness brought on by someone looking at something he’d created—it made the times that people didn’t...easier. Sharing one’s work was a vulnerable thing, and Everett was not immune to the way his heart pounded in his chest as the woman grasped his world in her hands. But he soon relaxed at her compliment, shoulders slouching as another smile slipped on his lips. “Thank you...I guess this should be considered as an honor to hear from a fellow Atwood fan.” Referring to their earlier conversation, he did his best to tuck in another grin. 

[everands]

‘ A. PALMEIRO :

           Paper cup still carefully grasped in her hand Ali took advantage of the freed up space and immediately sat herself beside him. Getting off her feet was a bigger relief than her pride allowed her to admit. She was a woman unconquered by even something as drastic as car accidents or surgery— or at least so she forced herself to believe despite the clear evidence otherwise. Being weak or broken was hard for her to deal with, though. It was much preferable to pretend like everything was as she wished it to be and under control. For that reason alone she barely allowed herself more then a quiet sigh, born from finally finding comfort, before continuing their conversation. “I can see why that’s an obvious problem…” His reputation as an artist was well known, and most of the clients she imagined he dealt with expected their commissioned work on time. Losing out on his studio space could be detrimental. “Let’s say somebody had available space for you to use…” A green gaze flicked from the coffee in her hand up to Everett’s face, “… how easy would it be for you to transfer what you needed from one place to the other?” Red lips left a stain against the rim of her cup when Alicia took a lengthy sip, allowing him the time to give it some thought. “My house back in Forest Hills still has power and there’s a renovated barn on site that’s suited for what you’d need.” Originally it’d been transformed as a place for her to paint, but these days she very rarely picked up a brush. It’d mostly sat unused since the project had been completed. “Nobody’s staying at the house right now, either, so you’d have complete peace and quiet.” Making such an offer wasn’t typical behavior of the woman, but over the years he’d become more friend than anything. Shifting back against the couch she flicked honey blonde hair over her shoulder and continued. “I’m staying with— a friend while I recover and wait for Wyatt to be released from the hospital.“ What she didn’t mention was that her friend was actually her son’s real father. She still wasn’t sure how much about her broken engagement ( or the reasons why it ended so suddenly ) had gotten out yet. Damage control and maintaining the flow of incriminating information was at an all time high— both for her reputation and her pride. “Everything is fine, though.” Which was at least partially a lie. “I’m doing fine and so is the baby. He’s better than fine, really. The doctors are shocked with how well he’s doing for being born so early.”

                      Everett had never been an intrusive individual. He knew better than anyone that everyone had their demons, and that said demons weren’t always in a fashion of which one would like to reveal to others. He himself had struggled throughout the years with his identity. Who he was, and where he fit exactly in the world. Being in your mid-twenties and not having a clue as to who you were was something that most people went through. It was common knowledge that life wasn’t meant to be easy. However, Everett had still managed to feel alone for a huge portion of his life, even when surrounded by many who loved him. And in return, he ended up just that—alone. From a distance, at least. Should he ever return to Seattle he knew he would be greeted with a bountiful amount of love. But here, in Wilmington, he was comfortable resting in the shadows. Keeping face, for when he bumped into those he knew, but returning to his home with a true heart, and an honest mind. Which is why he could see behind Alicia’s facade. Anyone who didn’t known the woman would perhaps be astonished with her quick recovery, but Everett, having known her now for years—had known better. He’d known better from the moment he’d caught sight of her, and he knew it now. But, again, he wouldn’t impose. He would only allow her to keep on her mask for however long she needed. Though he couldn’t say the same for himself, when his mask clattered to the ground at her genuine offer. “Wait, are you serious?” He tilted his head in her direction, never given reason to doubt that the woman was ever anything other than serious. It still hadn’t stopped him from being quite astonished and humbled by her offer. “Well, it would take some time, on the means of being careful with fragile work—but it would certainly be doable...only if you’re sure, I’d never wish to impose.” Setting his coffee cup on the table before them he folded his hands over his knees, still in partial disbelief that in such a time of distress, Alicia had found it in her to offer up her home. “I’d be really grateful..." A soft smile grasped his features, and at the mention of her newborn child, his sat up a bit straighter. “Wyatt...what a wonderful name. It explains it all really. In french the name means brave—did you know that?” He quipped, glancing down at the way her hands gripped her coffee cup. Silently, and rather hesitantly, he reached forward and pried one of her hands from the cup, giving it a gentle squeeze. One meant to assure her, that even though she hadn’t voiced it, he knew the scars were deeper than they appeared on the surface. “If the whole staying with a friend thing doesn’t work out, know you’re always welcome at my guest house. It’s quite warehouse-y itself, but I’ve found myself crashing there a few times without much problem.” The offer hung above them as he released her fingers, replacing the emptiness with his own mug once more. 

[everands]

‘ A. OLIVERA :

“It’s special to me,” they said, “like how I’m sure your art is to you. Which - do you draw, or?” They were curious, they always loved meeting other art people. It was always a fun conversation to have. “Oh - I definitely am proud of it, it’s one of the things I’m best at. I was just like, remembering this stupid conversation I had with this asshole.”

                     “Oh, yeah, I get that. It sort of just takes over you in a way you can’t explain. I’ve always been one to feel as though passion was the greatest high there was.” Everett nodded along, finding the look in the woman’s eyes to be one he felt so akin to. As he was sure it was the very same look that filled his eyes when others asked him about his craft. “I sculpt. Though, painting and sketching has always been thrown into the mix. I feel as though it all works together collectively in my head. I couldn’t do one without knowledge of the other...” Hands crumpling as he did his best to express it, he finally concluded he’d said enough, and turned to eye her once more. The lights from the coffee shop glittering off of her earrings. “Which asshole—if you don’t mind me asking. I find the world can be littered with them.”

[everands]

‘ M. THERRIER :

“I hope so,” She said with a small smile as she leaned back and perked up at the mention of coffee. She’d had enough of those, but somehow, she could never say no. Half the time, she was sure she ran on caffeine and alcohol — or a combination of both on those rough mornings. “I’m going to have to say yes. I’ll go with one sugar and one milk because I think I might die if I have another black one.” Her heart would beat out of her ribcage if she ever decided to have another cup. “I would never say pumpkin spice latte. But I do enjoy the uggs that are associated with …” she paused, narrowing her eyes. “What are they called? Those people who wear them while enjoying that awful pumpkin drink.”

                 “I thought one could never have too many black coffees?” Everett joked lightly, smiling at the blonde with much consideration. Though the smile shortly turned into a snort of laughter, as she did her best to recall the stereotypical grouping. “I believe the term might be Valley Girl? Although, I wasn’t aware that UGG boots were associated with them. That’s gotta be a new one for me.” As he began to walk backwards towards the coffee counter, he narrowly avoided bumping into a case of holiday cards, some dreadfully outdated and still covered in red and pink hearts. Everett rolled his eyes at his own clumsiness, before he went about ordering them two fresh cups of coffee. Steadily walking back over with both in hand, he made a show of handing one to Maxime, “M’lady,” Then with a huff, he was plopped back in his own chair. 

[everands]

‘ A. WELDON :

             “Shhh, don’t say that out loud– if my stomach hears you it’ll be sure to drag me kicking and screaming into Forest Hills to hit up my favorite bakery.” Despite the laughter that’d accented her tone, it was actually a decently earnest observation. Sweet Tooth Bakery being a somewhat regularly visited stop for the woman. “Sold my soul to my office chair, but give my heart to .. all of our clientele? Well, okay not all. You know as well as I do that some of the high society types only ever attend charity functions for the sake of keeping up certain ‘appearances’.” For a brief beat, Annabel actually managed to look rather perturbed. Irritability wasn’t a very common look to grace her features, but in that instant it rested there plain as day. “Hmm?” She’d half-vacantly hummed a moment later, admittedly having gone off on her own little silent begrudging tirade in her head. Inwardly cursing those who wore false-faces. “That is fair. Perhaps after this next Hallmark Holiday i’ll let my boss breathe a little easier via dipping into my vacation time. Though, it is a bit early still for spring cleaning.” The idea of what she would do with some time off was a surprisingly daunting thing. Whereas some would embrace it with open eager arms, Annabel hardly ever knew what to do with herself in these instances. She was not the sort of person who did ‘lazy days in’ very well. She liked to keep herself at least somewhat busy, somewhat productive. “I know, I know. Charming. Brilliant. Hysterical–” Nose scrunching to give way to her clearly feigned arrogance, a loud laugh betrayed any attempts to keep a straight face. But despite her pretense of arrogance being disrupted by her laughter, she’d still melodramatically added a hair flip for good measure. “Mm–” Anna’s pensive hum was followed by a look to her wrist, where a well worn watch rested in place. “Technically i’m out of the office today. Had a lunch date with a potential volunteer, but since there’s a Hallmark Holiday just around the riverbend I am penciling in a bit of pre-planning and a wholly relevant craft project.” Her rambling was cut short with a dismissive wave of her hand, “An hour and a half perhaps? If you can tolerate my presence for anywhere near that long. I think this entire coffee shop might break out in applause if I can get you up off this couch.”

                         “Oh, I’m sure we all know that by now. It’s why it all feels so trivial. When everyone is aware that we’re all simply faking it to survive, the panic ensues. It’s either keep up the appearance, blow the money—or be forgotten...and miserable.” Inhaling deeply, Everett shook his head. “See? The perks of giving it your heart. You get to know all the ins and outs of your clients’ rather unfortunate circumstances. Although, I’m not sure how prideful I should be of knowing...it’s sad really. Sure there’s an extra penny in my pocket, but at what expense? It’s hard to think that my art is slowly becoming just trophies in people’s lives. Some shiny thing to boast about until the next shiny thing comes along.” An artist’s mind was often vulnerable. While Everett was in a constant intent to be pleasant, he couldn’t fend off the rare rambles of thoughts that implemented themselves in his head. They pooled out over his lips like wave currents, and he cleared his throat in a sharp intake, as he metaphorically came back to shore. “Not, that you were intending to speak on any of that...” Everett flushed, rather embarrassed behind the smile he bore. “Anyways, about this vacation time—I wholeheartedly agree. Go to some picturesque island, swim with dolphins...be adventurous. I can tell it’s in that very focused head of yours somewhere.” Circling his index finger close to her head, he could only smirk before his arm fell back to rest between them. As the woman began to make quite the entertaining act of her faux-arrogance, Everett found himself in a fit of chuckles. A real sense of pause brought on by the brunette sitting before him. Who would have guessed that she was such a witty comedian. Not, that he was complaining in any sense of the word. He quite enjoyed having her bring a bit of light to his very secluded world he’d built for himself in the center of the coffee shop. Though as she pulled her watch up to meet her face, he was only reminded of just how long he’d actually inhabited the space. Perhaps moving wasn’t the most terrible idea. After all, for all he knew the power was back on at his place by now ( he hoped ). “Ah, I see. Always the business woman, even on her supposed days off,” Gently he leaned forward, as not to disturb her position too much. “I see no reason as to not give our audience means for celebration...” Calloused hands reaching for his things, he began the process of filling his worn and tattered messenger bag. “I could do for a change of scenery. I think you had a right idea earlier...Forest Hills bakery was it?” A devious grin pulled it’s way onto his face, and he did his best to ignore the way his stomach ached at the mention of food.