Ruby Elliot | Thirty-Six | Travel Writer/Author
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Character Chart
Character’s full name: Ruby Xai Elliot
Meaning of name: Latin. "Deep red precious stone"
Character’s nickname: Rue, Rub
Birth date: December, 14th 1989
Place of birth: Phoenix, Arizona
Occupation: Author (Under an Alias), Travel Blog (well known)
Neighborhood: Downtown
Time since arriving in Kismet Harbor: 2004, on and off because she travels for work.
Zodiac Signs: Sagittarius Sun, Pisces Moon, Sagittarius Rising, Sagittarius Venus, Libra Mercury.
Physical appearance:
Age: Thirty-six
Height: 5ft, 8 inches
Body build: Slim
Eye color: Brown
Glasses or contacts: None
Hair color: Dark Brown
Family
Mother: Tracy Little
Father: Demitri Little
Siblings: Bo Little, Jade Little
Spouse: Riley Elliot
Children: Felicity Novak ( 19- adopted at infancy )
Best Friends: Makayla Hoffman, Lenny Clairemont.
Friends: Erik Nystrom, Annika Nystorm,
Favorites:
Color: Navy Blue
Least favorite color: Brown
Music: Indie, Folk, Oldies
Food: Greek.
Literature: Pride and Prejudice, Don Quixote, The Great Gatsby
Form of entertainment: Reading
Mode of transportation: Train
Travel Location: Norway, Australia, Thailand.
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Biography:
Born as the youngest child of Tracy and Demitri Little, Ruby Grace Little grew up in the warm and lively embrace of her family, always trailing after her two older siblings Bo, the eldest, and Jade, the middle child. From a young age, Ruby had a natural spark, a dreamer’s heart, and a love for storytelling that set her apart. She was the kind of child who could make a stage out of a living room rug, turning bedtime stories into grand performances for her family, complete with costumes and dramatic bows. Her bond with Jade was powerful; wherever Jade went, Ruby followed. They spent countless afternoons in their shared room, whispering secrets, making up dances, and creating imaginary worlds only they understood. Jade was Ruby’s safe place, her partner in crime, and the person she looked up to the most. Whether it was choreographing routines to pop songs or sneaking into Bo’s room to steal his CDs, they were inseparable. As Ruby grew, her passion for the arts only deepened. She fell in love with ballet at an early age, twirling around the house in tiny tutus and begging her parents to let her take lessons. The discipline of dance never felt like a chore to her; she loved the way movement could tell a story, and how she could express every emotion through a graceful leap or a pointed toe. By the time she reached elementary school, Ruby had also developed a love for musical theater. She adored the way songs could bring characters to life, and her family quickly realized that she was never just watching movies; she was studying them, memorizing every lyric, and reenacting entire scenes in front of the mirror. At school, she eagerly participated in plays, landing small roles at first before slowly working her way up.
But Ruby wasn’t just a performer; she was a writer. When she wasn’t on stage or in ballet class, she filled notebooks with stories, scripts, and song lyrics, crafting her little worlds on paper. Her imagination was boundless, and while Bo was busy being the responsible eldest and Jade was finding her place in the world, Ruby was content in her artistic bubble, dreaming of the day she could turn her love for storytelling into something real. As she entered middle school, Ruby’s interests only flourished. She continued ballet, pushing herself to be better with every class, and she started getting lead roles in school musicals. She was the kind of person who always had a book in her hands or a melody stuck in her head, often humming under her breath without even realizing it. She and Jade remained close, though as they both grew older, their interests sometimes led them down different paths. Still, Ruby always felt safest when she was with her sister, knowing Jade would always have her back. By the time high school was on the horizon, Ruby had solidified her identity as the artistic dreamer of the Little family, eager to take on the world with a stage beneath her feet, a pen in her hand, and a heart full of stories waiting to be told. Ruby had been the kind of girl in high school who never quite fit into just one box. She was outgoing but not the center of attention, smart but not the top of the class, rebellious in small, quiet ways, sneaking out to meet Riley after dark, rolling her uniform skirt just a little too high, writing in the margins of her textbooks. She and Riley had been best friends first, drawn together by their shared love for music and late-night conversations that stretched until sunrise. Somewhere along the way, friendship blurred into something more, and by the time they were fifteen, they had been together for two years, inseparable, wild about each other, convinced they had forever figured out.
Then came the pregnancy. Ruby had known something was off for weeks before she finally worked up the nerve to take a test. When the results showed positive, she and Riley sat in his car for what felt like hours, staring at each other, knowing exactly how their parents would react. So they kept it a secret for as long as possible, hiding the growing bump under baggy sweatshirts and carefully chosen excuses. But there was only so long they could pretend nothing had changed. When the truth finally came out, her parents were furious. Keeping the baby was never an option in their eyes; she was too young, too unprepared, and they refused to let her throw her future away. Her siblings, though, had been a different story. They had supported her, held her when she cried, and whispered reassurances when their parents wouldn’t listen. But none of it changed what was inevitable. On Valentine’s Day of 2006, Felicity was born. Ruby barely had time to hold her, to memorize the shape of her tiny fingers, and to memorize the softness of her cheeks. Before she was gone, Ruby was given to the family her parents had chosen. The loss was unbearable. She locked herself away, shutting out her parents and even her siblings, the only people who might have understood. The only one she let in was Riley. He was the only one who knew the weight of what they had lost, the only one who didn’t try to tell her that time would heal. She forced herself to go back to school the next year, finishing what she had started, but nothing felt the same. The only place she could truly let out everything she felt was in her journals. She filled them with letters to Felicity, with stories that were almost but not quite her own, rewriting her pain into something that felt easier to carry. Eventually, those journals turned into something more. The day she applied to college in Oregon, she packed her things and left without looking back, moving to Kismet Harbor to start over. She found a small apartment downtown, barely big enough for her but perfect in its way. She turned her words into a book in that tiny space, changing enough details that no one would ever know the truth. When it was published under a fake name shortly after she graduated, she felt something she hadn’t had in a long time in control.
Over the years, Ruby had built a life entirely her own, one filled with words, adventure, and carefully kept secrets. Writing had always been an escape, but it became something more. One book turned into two, then three, and now, eight novels later, she had carved out a career that no one in her family knew about. She kept it private, not wanting the inevitable questions, not wanting to open doors that were easier left closed. Instead, she let them see what she wanted them to see in her travel blog. For the past six years, it had grown steadily, gaining traction until it became something she could sustain herself on. It was a way to let her family know where she was and what she was doing without ever letting them get too close. They saw the beautiful cities, the breathtaking landscapes, and the carefully curated snippets of her life. And that was enough. Her parents still saw her as the daughter who had disappointed them, and while the years had softened some of the sharp edges, the strain between them never fully faded. The only real connection she kept was with Jade, her sister, the one person who had never judged her and never made her feel like she was less. She always made time to see Jade, no matter how far she traveled.
When she first started traveling, she did it on a tight budget—hostels, overnight buses, and couch surfing with strangers who became fast friends. She stretched every dollar and made it work however she could. However, her books and blog brought in more income as the years passed, and things changed. She swapped out backpacking for boutique hotels, packed lighter, and indulged in the kind of luxury she once only dreamed about. She still loved the adventure, but now, she did it on her terms. Lately, though, she had been spending more time in Kismet Harbor, drawn back by the people she had missed: her sister, her friends, and the rare moments of familiarity that she didn’t get anywhere else. She told herself it was just for a little while, just long enough to finish her next book. But deep down, she knew it was more than that. Something about being back felt different this time. Maybe it was the quiet pull of home, the way it always drew her back, no matter how far she went.
