Call her shallow, but Olivia Lee liked material things. She liked nice clothes and cars, and she especially liked a well-decorated home. As someone who went without at various points in her life, whatever she earned that was of value was taken care of. Any space she ever lived in was decorated with care, regardless of how small or modest it was. Since returning to Maywood, she spent a lot of her weekends trying to find the perfect piece for every corner of the little apartment her and Kat shared.
Pomegranate seemed like a good way to find something unique that might not completely dent her bank account. She was in the middle of getting a look at the artwork when the bar opened up. Olivia slipped into line, pausing when the woman next to her ordered two. As the glasses clinked across the smooth countertop, Olivia glanced over to the owner, Eden. “I hope those are both for you, then. Two’s always better than one,” she said, “You shouldn’t need the courage, though – your work is beautiful.”
Eden had never been pretentious about her art. She knew that was good, sure, at least to her. But art was subjective and what she liked, everyone else might not. So she tried to stay as neutral as possible through all of it, through interviews and greeting people. There of course laid any underlying nervousness that she couldn’t shake, a fear that things would fall apart, or that someone would hate her work so much they made a big deal about it, so she kept her fingers crossed, and a smile on her face. She was still lucky for the turn out, no matter what, even if no one bought anything.
When the two shot glasses of tequila she ordered were finally set in front of her she let out a soft and relieved thank you to the bartender. She grabs one, but stops in her tracks when someone speaks to her, and she smiles, genuine, eyes lighting up as they always do when she’s talking to someone, excited and friendly. “Oh they’re definitely both for me, I’m selfish like that. Though if you’d like to join me,” she says as she gestures towards the bar. “Oh,” and she blushes, shaking her head and crinkling her nose. “That’s so sweet of you, thank you. Do you have a favorite?” she ask, and she’s not trying to be cocky, but she always likes to hear why people like certain pieces.
Yet another failed date where Leo found himself at the bar. His friend had done well enough setting them up, she was a nice girl. But a bit too nice was the issue, not quite grasping Leo’s own pessimistic and sometimes dark humor. Although perhaps it was also his fault for suggesting a gallery opening for a first date. His mind had blanked, and instead of suggesting a movie or really anything else, his mind went to signs he had seen for the opening and suggested that instead.
Naturally with Leo’s negative nature, his commentary on the work came out as purely critical rather than constructive, and he could tell the only way to salvage the date was to introduce alcohol to the mix. He arrived at the bar shortly after the woman who had just spoken had, and as she ordered two tequilas, he couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. It’s like she read his mind.
“Two more, as well, please.” he added to the bartender, so the man could get it done all at once. “–Really that nervous, huh?” he asked, turning to the woman beside him.
It’s not like she doesn’t drink, because she does. But its more like a glass of wine in the bath, or fruity drinks with a lot of alcohol to get her drunk quick without having to deal with the burn of the alcohol. So when she’s asking for shots? It usually means something serious is happening. She knows she can’t get too drunk, of course, because she still has to shake hands and mingle and do a couple of small interviews, but two shots won’t hurt, and maybe a glass of champagne, too. Liquid courage, and whatnot.
When the man next to her orders two shots as well, she turns to look at him, eyebrow raising at his question. “So nervous I feel like I’m going to pass out,” she admits, watching as the bartender pours all four shots. “Since I know its not your gallery opening, what’s driving you to drink? Is the art that bad you have to be blind drunk to get through it?” she asks, hand on her hip, although shit, that could be it for all she knew. “Or just the open bar? Because trust me, that’s my favorite part about this, too.”
It wasn’t every day that Zahra saw a car that had painted on flowers and often times, she wondered why someone would go through the effort of doing that when decals existed but she could appreciate the beauty of it. It made it unique in it’s own right. Tucking the rag in her hand into her back pocket, the woman crossed her arms over her chest as she listened to the other across from her. A gentle laugh left her as she heard the car had a name, “Twelve out of ten on the choice of name,” was her initial reaction as she walked over to the car. “Would you be able to describe the noise she’s been making? Is it a clicking, squeaking, thumping? —Girl, please. I can work and talk at the same time so you don’t have much to worry about on that front. I mean… not many people really wanna see inside of their car so it’s a lot better than just chilling in the little waiting room with disgusting coffee and water that comes out warm instead of cold.”
“Well who better to name something as beautiful and...damaged” she said with a laugh in her voice “after?” she asks, though the question is rhetorical, of course. “It’s a clicking sound, I think. It just sounds off. Not good. I don’t even know the make of most cares though and tend to identify them by color, so I could be totally wrong and she could be fine,” she explains, though she has a hunch the vehicle is definitely not fine. “Oh trust me, if you want to talk, I never shut up,” she admits, more light laughter before tilting her head “Would it be totally annoying if I asked you to actually show me the inside of it? My dad tried once but he looked more confused than I did, honestly.”
Alex had to admit that she had been waiting for this night to come for a while, now that it was here she found herself speechless at all the work. She’d already made at least one lap around the gallery with her vodka soda, but she hadn’t actually examined the artwork in full detail yet. Stopping near the stage as she saw Eden come up to it, a smile appeared across her face. Lifting her glass as Eden called for a toast, she took a long drink from the glass to finish it off. Pushing past the people who were still coming in and she followed Eden over to the bar. Coming up behind her and she sat the empty glass down next to the woman.
“You did amazing.” She complimented, she put a hand on the small of Eden’s back. “Seriously I want to already buy everything in this place.” She told her with a laugh. “Think the artist can give me a discount? I’m pretty sure one or two of those paintings I saw was via my help.” She teased, she moved her hand from the small of Eden’s back to her hair, she brushed it out of Eden’s face. “I’m really proud of you, Eden. I’m so happy that you’re finally living your dream tonight. How about we get those drinks of yours and me a refill and I’ll walk around with you to help some of the nerves? Plus you can tell me all about the artwork?”
There is a lot of people here. More than she had really expected. But she can’t complain about that, in fact, she’s really lucky they all showed up. This show and opening could have failed, bombed, fallen apart, but the fact that she sees so many faces in the crowd when she gives her speech, strangers and familiar ones, makes her feel proud, warm, all sorts of crazy things. So she puts on a big smile and she tells everyone how proud she is, how grateful she is, how excited she is. She doesn’t tell them that she is shaking from being so nervous she feels like she’s going to puke, or that she cried in the bathroom ten minutes before this because she was scared it would all go wrong. She just smiles and makes a toast and finally steps down from the small stage.
Edens eyes are bright when she feels Alexs hand on the small of her back, and she blushes at the onslaught of compliments. “I felt like I was going to vomit the entire time, so thank you,” she admits and then shakes her head with laughter in her voice “I mean you’ve definitely been present and the cause for a few of these happening,” she agrees, because Alex already knows its the truth anyway. They’ve spent a lot of time together, after all. She tilts her head into Alexs palm when she brushes her hair out of her face and waves her off with a playful roll of her eyes. “That means a lot,” she assures her and then nods “god, please, yes to all of those things”
Art was one of those things that Oliver just didn’t understand. It had its place in the world and he appreciated it, but he’d never considered himself much of a connoisseur. In high school, one of the trips had been to the MoMa. Oliver could still remember the quizzical feeling of not quite knowing what was going on. Modern art was … an experience, he decided. One that he wasn’t quite sophisticated enough to appreciate.
And yet, here he was. Attending an art gallery opening. All because Eden was a friend and this was her dream. “You’re doing great so far,” Oliver reassured. He’d made his way to the bar shortly after he’d arrived and now he clutched some sort of cranberry concoction in his hands. He hadn’t really been paying attention and had chosen something at random. “I couldn’t even tell that you were nervous. Honest.”
She is lucky, she thinks, that at just twenty eight she’s got the life she’s pretty much always imagined. She wasn’t sure, back home in Israel, that she would ever get here, that she would ever make it. Sometimes she thought she would be stuck back home, helping her mom run the bakery, not that that’s such a bad thing. But it wasn’t her dream. This was, and here it all coming true.
She is also lucky for good friends, who have come out to support her. She is lucky to be surrounded by so much love she feel like she might explode from it all. Another reason to get a shot or two, because she feels so overwhelmed, it might help bring her down. Or maybe it’ll make her cry over how much she loves art and friends. But that’s a problem for future Eden. When Oliver tells her she’s doing great, she smiles gratefully at him, and bumps his shoulder with her own “thank you, that helps, even if I feel like I’m going to throw up,” she admits and looks at the drink in his hand “enjoying your vodka cranberry, are you?”
POMEGRANATE has been her dream for so long she doesn’t know what to do with herself now that it’s happening. There about one million things to do but she’s grateful she has her assistant, and also her sister at her side to help her do it. The decorations are up, the lights twinkling, there’s a bar set up one one side and there are cater waiters flanked on each side waiting to serve the incoming guests.
She is wearing a red off the shoulder flouncy wrap dress, her hair is long and wavy and a little bit messy, but presentable, and the headband in her hair is keep it all together. At least physically. Emotionally she is all over the place. She is excited, of course, but she is also nervous as heck that it won’t go well, that people will hate it and her art and that she would be a failure.
But it’s finally here, and so she takes a deep breath, and she stands on the makeshift stage and does a “Hi, I’m Eden Soloman-Rafaeli and Pomegranate has been my dream since I was a kid, and tonight I’m so thankful to be sharing all of this with you,” and she raises her glass in a toast and opens up the doors to the rest of the gallery and watches as people filter in.
And so she’s off first to the bar, because she’ll need it, giving the bartender a look “two shots of tequila please, I need all the liquid courage I can get.”
when/who was your first kiss: a boy named Elijah, and it was at 12 years old
are you a virgin: nope
have you ever had a same sex experience: of course
do you ever want to get married/have children: yes to marriage, maybe to children.
what do you look for in a potential significant other: kindness, creativity, the ability to laugh at them self, good hygiene.
→ personality
positive traits: ethereal, friendly, fanciful
negative traits: flighty, cocky, vulgar
biggest fear: dying alone.
what’s more important- sex or intimacy: intimacy.
do you believe in true love: I’m a hopeless romantic
have you ever been in love: once or twice
are you a leader or follower: leader
do you care what others think of you: sometimes! who doesn’t once in a while?
how do you deal with stress: marijuana, or red wine, exercise, or painting. Dancing it out.
are you spontaneous or do you always need a plan: a little bit in the middle.
→ misc
If your character could change one physical detail about herself, what would it be? how short she is.
What is your character’s favorite physical activity? dancing, bike riding.
What is your character’s least favorite physical activity? weight lifting.
Your character comes face-to-face with her worst enemy. What is her first reaction? Anger.
What is your character’s favorite weather? somewhere in the high seventies, the warm sun on her skin.
What is your character’s favorite season? spring/summer
What is your character’s least favorite season? winter
Your character keeps a photo album of memories from her lifetime. If she could only keep one photo, what would it depict? a picture of her and her mother in the bakery back home.
Does your character keep any pets? she has a cat!
What is your character’s fondest childhood memory? spending the days in the corner of the bakery behind the counter drawing in her sketchbook
Someone asks your character to describe her family. How do they answer? Mixed up, messy, and beautiful.
Is your character a morning person, a night owl, or something else entirely? She thrives off of being productive in the morning but she also loves dancing under the moonlight.
What is your character’s least favorite color? pastel yellow
A stranger makes a crude comment to your character. How do they react? depends on who it is, honestly. She can be crude with the best of them. if it’s a stranger, she’ll usually be aggressive.
What mythological figure best personifies your character? the fae.
“Is that an offer? Because I’m certainly not against stripping down for you right now.” Pulling down her sleeve jokingly so her bra strap and shoulder were showing. Putting her arms around eden’s waist, she didn’t care the least bit about her clothes getting stained with paint. “Stress relief? Is it your sister?” She asked softly, she leaned into Eden as they stood there wrapped up in each other. “I mean….” Trailing off with a smile. “I love art way more than you know. It certainly would look great handing in my apartment.” Staring at it once more, before turning back to Eden. “How much are you selling it for?”
Eden’s eyebrows raise, and she wiggles them before she laughs softly “You know I love a human subject, Soph, especially if it’s you,” and her tone is flirtatious which, okay, it always is. It’s habit she hasn’t really tried to break. When Sophie wraps her arms around her, Eden smiles and leans into the embrace and shrugs “It’s always a bit of my sister who still thinks she’s better than me because of her job?” she makes a face and then looks at the painting “It’s on the smaller side so I don’t want to go too high, somewhere in the low two hundreds, possibly?” she shrugs a single shoulder “did you come here to discuss how much my work is?”
Nancy had been craving Reese’s Cups for the past three nights. She kept talking herself out of it, telling herself she didn’t need them and the craving would go away. But, after a gritty morning tattoo session, she’d caved, and found herself at the Sweet Tooth Candy Shop. There on the shelf was the last packet, and she reached out for it, when her hand collided with someone else’s. They too were after the coveted Cups.
“I’ll let you have them if…” Nancy’s said, turning to smirk at her competitor. “If you tell me your favourite album of all time, and I decide you’re worthy of the Cups.”
Eden needed snacks. She had been locking herself in the studio to get work done, and she had run out of snacks. This also gave her the opportunity to get out and actually do something with herself. So she had pulled on a bar of overalls (sometimes she liked to work in just a tshirt, it made it easier to move around), and found herself driving her clunky little pick up truck into town. The candy store, of course was her first stop. She had filled up her little bag with sweets of all kinds, things like sweetarts and starbust and gummy worms mostly, but chocolate, Reese’s Cups especially were one of her weaknesses.
When she reaches for them and her hand collides with another, she is just about to do the nice thing and offer up the chocolate to the other person, but then she realizes who it is, and she smiles tilting her head and lifting her eyebrows “That’s not fair, there’s too many!” she says and shakes her head at her friend. “Can I name two?” she asks, frowning and tapping her chin “More recently, Hozier’s self titled album is lyrical poetry, and personally, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and Spiders from Mars,” she finally decides “though I could go on all day, but is that sufficient?” she says with a smirk.
A staple in Zahra’s life was that she would never look like what people that they’d see the moment they showed up to get their car checked. She wore makeup (winged liner all day every day), she had on jeans and a cute cropped shirt and her hair was always done. Today, she’d split it into two french braids that trailed down the length of her back with a blue bandanna wrapped around her head tied in a knot on the front. The woman had just finished changing a cars tired when she noticed someone else pulling in. With her boss and one of the guys busy with a transmission, she simply cleaned her hands as she walked forward, “Hi!” She greeted cheerily, “What brings you in today? Unless you’re just here to drop off or the even rarer option of simply wanting to talk.” @maywoodstarters
Edens car is a clunky old thing that she is in love with. She had found it when she first moved to Maywood and she had become obsessed immediately. It is a beat up yellow ford f100 that she had bought and promptly decorated with painted flowers. But with it being so old, it’s always due for some kind of maintenance. She however is not willing to part with it. So when she pulls into the garage, she knows there’s bound to be something wrong again, especially with the weird noise it’s making. She hops out of the car and takes in the woman talking to her and, she tilts her head, and smiles. Eden is the least sexist person, but still, the woman in front of her is not who she’s expecting. Mostly because she’d never seen her when she brought her truck in before. Still though, she smiles “This is Persephone and she’s making a weird noise,” she explains, tapping the hood. “But I mean, if you want to stop to talk, I’m happy to do that, too.”
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