— ‹ éphémère. ❜

I will fashion an art of loving you. How much of poetry is bodies?

[stellaroses]

sidjcmes‌:

Sid had been made feel small and unscrutable in her youth. People asked a lot of her and her answers didn’t make much sense, not to them. Her vision of herself was so clear but was at times blurred by childhood tears of trauma was would soon be repressed. The world had found her difficult to understand and so they actively chose not to, shunning the idea that someone so young could be clued into to themselves.  The pain had seared parts of her heart, malformation of the atriums leaving her less space to offer others’; probably for the best. Sid knew hurt, knew rejection and had refused to let them affect her in the same ways they had. People would think what they wanted or not at all and she would continue to live life as happily as she could. The only vow she’d made was that she would never actively behave in the same way to anyone else. When she had turned her back on Stella’s she’d done that. The argument could have been made that she wasn’t to know, that fear had gotten the best of her and that devastation of the idea of hurting her had led her. But the hollow carved into her chest didn’t care for any kind of debate on the matter, she’d let herself down and certainly failed Stella. 

“…And I’ve been trying to disappear.” It was a joke in a way but the truth of it all surmounted its comedic nuance. Sid hadn’t been back to the museum since, nowhere near it in fact. If it was in her eyeline then she deemed herself to be invading Stella’s space. Same with favored bars, Stella’s place and any possible routes that Ophelia may have wanted to wander. Sid had done everything she could to become a ghost in Stella’s history. The tattoo artist had probably seen her two or three times since that night and each time Sid stopped herself in her tracks and either turned a corner and did a full turn and walked herself back from where she came. In her mind it just hadn’t been worth it to bother Stella, even to apologize and get a chance to explain herself. The last thing she wanted to do was impose herself on the blonde.  

While Sid prided herself only being elusive and connectionless being, that didn’t mean she offered herself any room to be mean or thoughtless. Harshness was not the name of her game and it never had been. An unfamiliar panic had been her undoing but she remained confident in the idea that the form that panic took was something she would never have to deal with again. 

Sid hadn’t meant to cry though she did question whether anyone ever meant to cry. The knowledge that she hadn’t hurt Stella and that there was very little she could have done beyond just staying had released shackles of guilt and shame that had clung to each of her limbs. While she wasn’t weightless, she was absolutely lighter and trying to reaffirm with herself that she was in fact still good, that she hadn’t corrupted herself in a way that to her would have been unforgivable. Sid’s free hand found her eyes, rubbing haphazardly at them, her forearm sweeping into to clear her misty vision. There were still tears to come but they could be set free without an audience. The onslaught had ceased but Stella stood soothing her, encouraging her to be at one with her emotions. Of course, she was. Of course, all the good in Stella would come out in such a way, that she would be mindful and caring towards someone who hadn’t done the same for her. 

All the artist wanted was to hold her or to be held by her or to argue about which was which while sharing a tight and long-overdue embrace. She would place both her arms around Stella’s neck, one hand cupping the back of her head to assure for closest and most delicate hold. The blonde’s wavy curls back between her fingertips and her senses would be overtaken by whatever perfume she’d chosen to wear. Sid couldn’t reconcile the idea that she was in any way deserving of the kind of compassion that Stella was offering. “It’s okay, Stell.” Her tone was soft but the weak smile on her lips spoke more of where they stood. Sid wasn’t sure if she was again being selfish, but allowing herself to be held and consoled wasn’t something she could do. The blonde speaking in the past tense made it even more difficult to try to skirt around much-needed embrace. Would this be the last? It sounded like it and though Stella had cited the idea that she was indeed much more than a humble distraction Sid felt no more special than any one grain of sand lost in the mounds at their feet. 

Sid did everything she could to regain herself, rearranging her posture and in search of Stella’s glance. She was sure her eyes were still stained red but the storm had been weathered. The ground they stood on was uneven and all Sid wanted was to find common space again. “I know I got Ophelia water and I didn’t even ask… Is there anything I can get you? I mean I’d ask you to sit but I kind fucked that. Looks like someone trashed the place.” 

Art hung in the wispy, hazy backgrounds of Stella’s memories since she had come to exist. Be it stodgy portraits in the halls of the country club after tennis lessons, or leaned against the walls of Rosenthal Fine Art Restoration in various states of repair, it was never far from Stella’s mind. An Ivy League education and betrothal in the heat of the Hamptons had almost tempted to trade coasts for good. She could be making a bigger impact in far larger institutions, but Stella had been content enough. Some people seemed to hold contempt for their surroundings, or placated by the usual. There was so much beyond her hometown, but that’s what it was – home. You could drop her anywhere and she would try to find a silver lining, but she had an affinity for the white sand and emerald waters.

She could spend a lifetime trying to recreate the myriad of colors and shades, analyzing each hue and tone, but a static image could never properly echo the way the sunlight sparkled across and cut through the water. Calderwood boasted that, and a cast of characters that kept her tethered despite far-flung flings and explorations. There were some that she would like to leave in the past, and others she strayed away from, but there were new faces that beckoned an acknowledgment. A beguiling beauty had crashed into her life a few months ago, and been ripped out of it all too suddenly. Was the same thought of her? She was often a whirlwind herself, zipping between the museum and her studio and never quite where she should be. Stella handled her ephemerality as part of her charm, but others decidedly disagreed. She was always there when needed; a fact that she believed made all the difference. 

“You owe yourself more than that.” She owed herself more than that. She had longed to leave in the aftermath, and at the beginning of the way the evening had changed. Stella wanted to trace the sharp jawline and let tenderness bloom from where her lips parted. Clenched jaws had always been seen as a challenge to this pair. Held so steadfastly that bones and teeth threatened to shatter, and how easily Stella could evaporate that poised tension into gossamer nothingness so readily. She was sure her own features were threatening to betray her; clamped into a grimace. A thin facade saving her from ruination. She respected the boundary put in place, idly stooping to run a hand through Ophelia’s coat. She rose after a few passes, surfacing a half step backwards. She had aimed to smoothly choreograph the retreat and resist the urge to withdraw back into herself. Stella curated herself to fit the different facets of her life, yet Sid had fit so easily within them all. The artist had been privy to Stella’s widest smiles and worst (best) jokes. Sid had come the closest to seeing Stella’s big picture, yet it was something she was still creating.  

She wanted to lean into Sid’s warmth, she wanted to snake an arm around a lanky body and close the distance between them. Between their lips, between their hips, between the voids caged behind ribs. Laughter had never been far off for these two. Gaiety had been easy to pluck out of thin air, or delicately placed between languidly recited poems of love or daring little sirens. Stella had only aimed to lure Sid to the depths of her bed sheets, and neither had expected to get caught in the undertow of the weight of Stella’s soul. Her free hand wiped the threatening tears and glassy eyes blinked back to lucidity. Stella softened, trying to release the rigidity as she unrolled her shoulders.“Ophelia had her fair share in the carnage.” A dog shaped imprint had given way when the other blonde slid to a rest beside the humans’ feet. “I could help you rebuild it, if you’d like? I bet that I’d have the best crenelations on any sand castle on this whole damn beach.”  She let out a laugh, hollower than usual, but tried to eek out something more genuine. Was crafting in sand absurd in the dimming light? Absolutely. Was Stella ready to depart? Absolutely not.

[stellaroses]

Stella flinched as something brushed her back, though she gripped the bar top a little bit tighter. A rapid reaction had caused a few broken noses, though Stella generally tried not to leave trauma in her wake. She aimed to leave things in better condition than when she found them, and a new nose job had only delighted one recipient. She snapped to a more rigid position before turning to face the other.  “I’m really sorry about that.”

[stellaroses]

reganisms‌:

Calderwood Historic District | @stellaroses - Closed Starter

“Shit.”

Regan glanced down to her tiny son, who was peacefully sleeping in the Babybjörn and had little awareness to the world around him. “You didn’t hear a thing, kid,” she interjected, then pressed her lips to his head. Her phone showed nothing more than a pitch black screen, and Regan immediately regretted not bringing that portable charger her mother gave as a Christmas present the year before. 

It was no matter. With or without a phone’s GPS, Regan determinedly sought the location of Easy Tiger—a hangout that shouldn’t be far from home. She pressed forward, traipsing through the winding streets of the Historic District with no avail. Thankfully (or so she hoped), a passerby neared on the same sidewalk. 

“Any chance Easy Tiger is around here somewhere?”

The afternoon had been spent scouring the stalls at the antique market, and Stella was kicking herself for not bringing the Jeep. Be it housed in a museum, or a piece Stella was breathing new life into with a restoration, she had a penchant for things with history. Things that told a story. The convertible flashed as Stella stowed her findings in the small trunk - a cheery departure as she drifted elsewhere to seek out another of her truest delights. Food. 

Stella had turned a corner, happily meandering until her stomach would command her feet to come to a stop. A voice claimed that honor and she slowed to a stop, gaze landing on the baby instantly. “What a cutie,” she cooed before quickly lifting upwards. “It’s just a few blocks over. I’m heading there myself and can show you, if you’d like?”

[stellaroses]

valeriefleming‌:

“I think I remember seeing an article that proved that the brightest people doodle in their notes,” Valerie commented lightly, before she began stuttering in response to being questioned, “I-I’m liking it alright. It’s not… It’s not the sort of book I’d normally pick up.” A not-so-subtle fib. The book in question was that of the romantic inclination, and certainly something she’d read before. Valerie had read many a “bodice ripper” in her time, but they were always private reads. Lately, however, she found herself reading more openly at the reception desk of Haven Indigo. The trick was shielding her grandmother from the titles she was consuming.

“I’m sure that could be up for debate, but there might be something to that.” Idly expelling energy helped focus it elsewhere, but it was a rocky game of letting her mind drift to something more interesting than the topic at hand. It was easy for Stella to get swept up into whatever was trying to vie for her attention, books included. “The next one in the series is just as good,” Stella offered with a small wink -- aiming to ease any tension. “Sometimes you just need a fairy tale... or more.”

[stellaroses]

chrissydelarosa‌:

Chrissy accepted the iced coffee graciously, taking a tiny sip before she answered. “That wall beside the staircase, between the doorways.” She took a much larger, much longer sip now, swallowing too eagerly to taste anything more than the wetness left on her tongue in its wake. “I think I still have the sketches my mentor sent me in my e-mail, if you want to have a look.”

“Behind every successful person is an immense amount of coffee, or something like that,” Stella mused before taking a swig. She wasn’t sure if it was the caffeine or having the pleasure of seeing something come together, but Stella was positively vibrating. She gave a quick nod of approval before canting her head in the direction of the painting. “I’d love to take a peek and see if this is a good option, because there are others.” 

[stellaroses]

laceyxharris·:

Truth be told, Lacey felt a wave of relief wash over her when she heard the familiar voice. At least that meant she didn’t have to convince anyone of the fact that she really wasn’t trying to break in or have to explain herself, since she truly wasn’t in the mood for any of that. She stopped fiddling around with her lock, turning around to look at Stella with a grin on her lips. “This is a ‘Stella, don’t climb because you could fall and die’ and a ‘Stella, don’t call a locksmith because I hate how expensive they are’ kind of moment,” she responded, chuckling. “You know, I actually do know how to break open a lock with these bad boys…,” she paused to lift the bobby pins in her hand, “…But somehow it’s impossible to open this damn door with them.”

Stella was not one to insert herself into something that didn’t need her involvement, but she was not one to turn down serendipitous encounters. A detour or different timing would  “You underestimate my climbing prowess, but I don’t think a funeral is at the top of either of our ‘to-do’ lists,” Stella let an amused puff of air escape as she flicked her gaze back upon the redhead. “Would it help,” she pulled out her phone, “if I held a flashlight? I have a few different gauges of wire in the car, if you wanted to give that a go.”

[stellaroses]

laceyxharris‌:

There were very few things that annoyed Lacey more than locking herself out of her apartment. It was even worse when it was already dark outside and any attempt to get back inside by helping herself to it was going to look like she was breaking into the place because how in hell would anyone explain that? It was too bad that she currently found herself in that exact situation: kneeling in front of her door while trying to unlock the door with bobby pins. She was in the middle of her attempt when she heard someone come up behind her. Without turning around, she explained, “Listen, I know what this looks like but I swear I’m not trying to break in.”

Stella found herself less and less in Rosmont when her time of linked elbows with a certain tattoo artist had crashed to an abrupt halt. The dim glow of the city center carried a novel excitement outside her large windows, but Stella was due for a change of pace. She was traipsing towards tacos or Sleepy Jean’s, or a warm body plucked from the latter to join her in the first. She stopped when a shadowy figure was crouched by a familiar address, but a flash of red hair and a familiar voice soon chased off any doubt of an intruder. Her eyes angled upwards towards a window as she kicked off her heels, “Is this a ‘Stella, climb’ or ‘Stella, call a locksmith’ kind of moment?”

[stellaroses]

Echoes and ghosts in my head They are swimming in my bed They're not giving me a chance I am here for no one

[stellaroses]

valeriefleming‌:

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I don’t tend to write in my books unless they’re textbooks. Then they’re absolutely full of scribbles,” Valerie said with a chuckle, taking her book back, “Thank you.”

“I was very guilty of the same thing. You should have seen my lecture notes - doodles in the margins until it ended up taking up an entire half of a page.” Stella nodded back towards the book, “how are you liking that so far?”

[stellaroses]

sidjcmes‌:

Stella reaffirmed that Sid had done her no harm, her hands dropped in relief and she let out a breath of exoneration, sure that if she’d been alone receiving the news that she would have been brought to her knees. 

The hand on her cheek deepened the frown that was trying to contain the tears that were yet to come. The night it all happened Sid had left so quickly there was a barely a thought to be found in her mind. She’d gone home and slept with the help of a cocktail that would have surely killed another, but the next morning she awoke with a hideous and immovable weight on her conscience. No matter how dark the liquor or the amount, nothing seemed to shift the image of Stella’s terrified face from her mind. Sid had resigned herself to the fact that she would never get to touch the blonde again, let alone speak to her or even be in any way involved in her stratosphere; but Stella had done as she always did and graced her. The hand on her cheek found her jaw and tipped her face up, though she found it difficult, she followed the lead given. Her green eyes a pair of lily pads threatening to lose their buoyancy over the tears that were steadily welling.

Don’t. Sid heard the echo from that night and was consumed by a familiar dread. 

“Stell, I thought you never wanted me touching you again. That’s what you meant right? I heard that and I couldn’t do anything.” Her hands had remained firmly at her sides. Even with clarification, she wasn’t about to risk moving too quickly. 

Stella didn’t want her to leave and in any other context, Sid would have dropped out of the conversation to avoid such an emotionally charged statement, to ignore what it meant and to disregard the implication. But it was something positive and it was coming from Stella and so she overlooked what was being said and focused on the idea that the woman was saying anything at all. The valley caused by the time apart was lessened, even if only just by a single inch. Sid couldn’t help but look down at Stella’s hand in her own and she very quickly lost the war she’d waged against how heavy the loss and the hurt had made her heart. It took all of a single hitched breath to give her game away, tears dropping into the sand between them. 

“Next time?” Over their time apart Sid had felt flooded with wounds, memories and small reminders of Stella knicking and slashing her skin. Seeing the blonde and not being able to speak or even look at her for longer than a glance was a heaving slathering of salt poured into each cut. The idea of a next time, those words even dropping from Stella’s lips as a joke was a salve that she would have never been able to create on her own. Her breaths became a little lighter and freer, chest less restricted and her head that bit clearer. Between the two of them, Stella had always been the wordsmith and she showcased her artistry yet again with her ability to solve the artist’s angst so concisely and respectfully. 

“I really don’t want you saying sorry to me. Something happened that night and you couldn’t help it either… I’m really not tryng to speak for you, Stell, I just don’t want you thinking you owe me anything here.” 

A new ache had settled in place of the slowly dulling one. Stella struggled under the weight of her own emotions, but she tried to cast out her melancholy with layers and layers of light. She aimed to be a bright spot in a darkening world, a sense of warmth offered to bask in. The knowledge she had left someone in such a similar state was the final twist of the knife into her bleeding heart. She did her best to prolong the sense of relief for the other. Stella let her hand rest upon her temple as vexed hues searched over Sid’s form. 

She had thought all tears had been expelled, but a new onslaught found her after she heard hurried footsteps and the thud of a closing door. That door had closed so many things. The look Sid had given her had been etched into memory and could not be disposed of. “I didn’t.” Then. “I didn’t know what I wanted, or what I needed.” Logic and rationality were hard to grasp amidst the terror of it all. Composure was hard to maintain with a heaving chest and a face that refused to contort into anything but anguish. 

The corners of her hometown had always been a comforting embrace to return to after far flung adventures, but they have been nothing but edging too terribly close to claustrophobic. Stella had wandering fancies and a curiosity that longed to roam. It wasn’t hard to let her mind slip into a painting; willing herself to be anywhere but here. She had stayed amongst the wreckage, believing she had been the only casualty of that evening. Stella contained multitudes. Nuanced charm lurked beneath wide smiles, but something else had been exposed that night. Too much. Stella could be too much, and in life, she curated herself to be just enough. She did her best to offer someone in her selected orbit anything they might need or want from her, but few were privileged and burdened with the big picture of Stella Rosenthal. It had been the intensity of her own emotions that caused everything to go belly up, and it pained her to admit she was so consumed by hers that she gave little thought to how Sid was weathering this storm. Alone.

“I’ve been trying to give you space,” Stella croaked. In her own way, she had tried caring from afar. As far as she could without removing herself completely. At the root of it was unchecked grief. The date on the calendar had deepened the well of sadness in Stella’s center, and frenzied kisses and carefully placed hands could only distract for so long. The grief had not subsided the morning after. It had been coupled with something new to mourn. The next day had been graveside; the one place Stella allowed herself to openly weep. For all things lost -- from the past, and from a suddenly vanished future. The tears were threatening to arise, but she would not let them chase Sid out of her grasp again. 

“Oh shit, ba- Sid,” Stella stammered as droplets fell from heavy emeralds. “Hey,” she softened, letting an arm land tentatively over the artist’s back before arcing in small circles. The other started to extend. An invitation to be enveloped. To be embraced, there for Sid’s taking. Stella prided herself on always being there to buoy someone up, yet she had unwittingly cast Sid out to a stormy sea. “Let it out, I’m here.” She wasn’t sure if she could promise a next time, but she could offer a now. “You were the most enticing distraction. You were, you are, so much more.”

[stellaroses]

sidjcmes‌:

Her name passing Stella’s lips left her muted. Though she wished to apologize for however long the blonde had suffered that night and beyond, Sid knew that she had to listen. It’d be hard to hear and she’d probably pack up the moment Stella finished but it wasn’t like the pain and the inconvenience wasn’t totally deserved. Sid had always prided herself on being decent at the bare minimum, never going out of her way to do wrong by others but never really going out of her way to do right by them either. There were many sessions of reflection, 3 and 4am walks home from bars or just ambling along the beach. She thought through everything, ran back through the picture of the night she had in her mind, knowing that she had to have missed something. Maybe she’d leaned too hard against her or maybe the impassioned look in her eye had looked more menacing than anything else. It didn’t matter what it was, the fact that she’d managed to make the woman so panicked and terrified that she’d been brought to tears. The look Stella had rightfully given her had stained the good heart she’d thought she had. 

The fact that Stella had chosen to respond to her feeble apology left the tattoo artist’s heart thrumming in her chest. Sid was unfamiliar with the feeling and sensation of nervousness but in front of an audience of just two, she felt surrounded by an arena full of people. The hand on her shoulder caused every muscle to tense, jaw first to keep some semblance of composure. She felt like a monster standing in the presence of Stella’s pristine brevity. A creature to be tamed by a calm hand, to be led, while fumbling, through their conversation. Her eyes flickered like the flame of candlelight, swiping through thoughts and avoiding the pathetic tearfulness that came with shame. “Yeah?” Sid wasn’t sure if she was questioning herself or all that Stella had said, a loss for what she was hearing. She hunched in all of her height, head hanging lowly. 

“Stella, the look on your face, that look… I thought I hurt you because I’ve never had anybody look at me like that. I left because I figured you wanted me gone and I’ve been doing everything I can to avoid just about anywhere you might go. I’ve been trying to get out of town, I promise you, it’s just been hard and I–” 

“—I didn’t hurt you?” Sid needed confirmation. Her two hands moved to push back through her hair and waited atop her head as if she was waiting to be sentenced. Stella was the judge of the hour and Sid didn’t even wish for leniency. Before they could continue the artist needed to know that she hadn’t misheard a vital piece of information that had spent many lonely and isolated nights eating away at parts of her. Guilty til deemed innocent. 

The night had ended with Stella’s body seemingly rejecting every opportunity it had to breathe, and she was currently left with little more than a hitched one. She had felt so drained and empty and had yet to fill the void since. A part of her had left with Sidney James that night. A part she had realized that had grown attached. It had been nothing but a mutual, favored fondness. A preferred place to pluck out of the crowd. A bed and a set of arms to crash in should one of them fail to make it out of Idlewild or Carlysle for the evening. A few other faces had occupied Stella’s time since, but the bed felt far emptier than when it remained unoccupied. 

Stella lifted her hand after the artist tensed, though it briefly brushed a chiseled cheek. She had loved to make that jaw dance in a frenzied sequence of steps; clenching and unclenching. It pained her to see it locked up so tight, surely by her own doing. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to vocalize nor what she wanted out of this. Enough damage had been inflicted. Not during the initial act of unraveling, but rather in the aftermath. If this did nothing more than tie up loose ends like a tourniquet, Stella hoped it would bring forth some peace of mind. Her hand traveled slightly lower, enough to tip up Sid’s chin before retracting altogether. “Yeah.” 

It raked through her own hair as she took a shaky breath. They had been so tactile, and the touch had felt so familiar and yet so foreign. It was a delicate stroke, though Stella wasn’t sure if helped or scorched tender flesh. “Don’t,” she echoed that night. A plea. Her own pride had been another tough thing to reckon with in the aftermath. She closed her eyes as the image flashed by. She had been so easily reduced to rubble. Happier memories with Sid were trapped within the volcanic ruins of her own heart, yet no one would look upon this horror as they would Pompeii. 

“There’s nothing you did, or could’ve done.” Stella had replayed that night far too many times. Her own actions had been scrutinized, and no positive conclusion could be deduced. “I didn’t want you to see me like that, but I didn’t.....I don’t want you to leave,” she spoke quickly, grabbing for a hand when the words finally registered. Her grasp could do little to keep Sid from leaving, but Stella soon surrendered it when the other spoke. She looked away as her eyes rimmed in pink. “You didn’t. Think we should try a safeword next time?” Deflective humor usually fell flat, but Stella was not ready to admit to the prickling tears that threatened to fall. “I didn’t realize you felt that way, I... I’m sorry.”

[stellaroses]

sidjcmes‌:

“Yeah, me too.” The word miss had no business being in Sid’s mouth though it was surely in her chest. There were often mornings when Sid caught a glimpse of the see and was left rather hollow, whole days dedicated to a void that she didn’t quite understand. Even with Stella standing right in front of her her ribcage felt more expansive than usual; a cavernous thing. “It’s really not a problem.” Sid found herself micromanaging her words. Trying to find a level between warmth and distance but she wasn’t a poet like Stella was. Her words waltzed off her tongue while Sid’s version of wordsmith was a filterless onslaught of flattery. When compliments were available to her, nor humor her mouth ran rather dry. “Just gimme like two minutes.” Sid offered a nod before retreating back inside the house. 

The artist stood over her kitchen sink awash with nausea that she was sure wouldn’t settle until her company took their leave. Why had she decided to prolong the agony? That was a question she couldn’t answer. It would go poorly, but at the very least she would have spoken to Stella before their paths diverged. Two and three words apiece, more than enough. Sid pulled out a dog bowl from one of her lesser used cabinets, Ophelia’s bowl to be more accurate. A cheap little thing but it had been an impulse by that continued to serve its purpose. Once it was filled Sid recognized she’d have to go back outside and that was a terrible realization. If she kept Stella waiting the blonde would leave with an even worst taste in her mouth. With the dog bowl in hand, she ventured back out front. Just don’t say anything. Nothing. Just let Oaf drink and they’ll be on their way. If nothing passed her lips then the situation wouldn’t have been worsened which was the best case scenario. 

Sid set the bowl down and stroked Ophelia’s fur one last time in search of any kind of comfort she could get. Once the golden girl was settled she stood back up and glanced at Stella before looking out at the sandy shores. The pair of them stood in an uncomfortable and unfamiliar silence only broken by Ophelia’s tongue lapping up water. 

“I’m sorry.” Mission failed. The silence had to be filled and Sid’s guilt had decided to speak. “I’m really sorry. For everything, that night I– I swear, I never meant to hurt you and I didn’t know what to do. I totally get if you don’t want to be around me or have me talking to you… I just needed you to know that I’m sorry.”

At one point, words had flowed so easily between the two souls. Now, they stood mute; both twisting in silent pain that cried volumes. Stella was the type of creature to hold love poems captive in her throat - to be written with her lips or vocalized so saccharinely. Banter, quips, and the most abysmal puns had been volleyed forward to gain certain reactions. An eye-roll, a clenched jaw. Stella was sure she stood with a clenched grimace threatening to expose her, but she called upon placidity and hoped for the best. She swallowed, hard, in an attempt to choke back everything on the tip of her tongue and the bile rising in her chest. “Thank you,” she forced out gently. Many more things tried to escape as she pressed her lips together and watched the retreating figure. 

“You really are an oaf, Oaf.” Stella scolded with a dejected sigh before stroking over Ophelia’s coat. Stella wanted to turn and put them both out of their misery. Surely neither had intended to have the evening derailed in such an exquisite manner, and neither had intended to leave things when they parted last. It would have been Stella’s turn to leave, to walk out with a blooming ache filling the space she had just occupied. She was not one to have uncouth trauma follow readily in her wake, and she willed her feet to stay planted in the sand. Things always hurt more in dying light, of that she was sure. Mornings usually brought clarity, but too many sleepless nights had been claimed as casualties. Tonight would simply be another, no matter when she took her departure. 

Sorry? “Sid,” Stella started, brow furrowing. She gave a small shake of her head - not denying the apology, but rather the need for one. She flicked her eyes away, unaware if a green set was seeking them out or not. A dejected haze hovered thickly overhead and didn’t quite evaporate when Stella sought out a gaze. “It wasn’t... why would you think that?” Curated, carefully chosen words had fled from her grasp. “You didn’t,” Stella finally offered. “There’s no logic to panic, and I... wasn’t in the best place that night.” She had ignored the tightness in her chest to the point of ruination, and a different type had yet to alleviate the weight upon it. Stella placed a tentative hand upon a tattoed shoulder, waiting for the flinch or recoil to twitch beneath her fingers. “Have you thought that this whole time?” She wasn’t sure what answer would hurt worse.

[stellaroses]

valeriefleming‌:

“Sorry, I, uh, I think that’s mine,” Valerie said, trying to keep her voice as polite as she could make it.

Stella shifted her attention from the open book towards the voice. She shut the cover and extended it for the taking. “Sorry, I was just checking to see if there was a name written in the cover.”

[stellaroses]

sidjcmes‌:

“Okay dude, whatever.” It wasn’t usual for Sid to be blanked at times, her look being rather unique and not for everyone. Maybe it was tattoo this time or the androgyny, or maybe it was the fact that she really had done a great job of playing the part of an authentic beach bum. She sat back and resumed her comfortable slouched position before a rogue dog decided to join her on the shoddily molded couch she’d come to love. 

A stray would have been just fine, it could have had fleas for all Sid cared, but this little lady was groomed and loved and all too familiar. “Hello, hey Oaf.” Probably taboo but Sid couldn’t help herself, hands scratching through the golden girl’s soft fur. It transported her to such a different time, a warm and pleasant space that she’d had trouble trying to find anew; no option for a replacement. They were on Stella’s couch again while the other golden girl busied herself in another room. The warmth was momentary, swapped for the chill of Stella’s balcony where she and Ophelia stood before all had been lost. With Ophelia’s head in her lap, she was struck by the fact that Stella wouldn’t be far behind. Sid wriggled free and tried her best to capture the dog’s eye but she seemed too contented to care. “Bud, you know you’re my favorite but you gotta go. Come on, you can do it. I really need you to go, Oaf… Please, if you do this one thing for me, I swear, I just need you to go—”  

It was much too late. A quick glance towards a figure approaching made her stomach twist. Sid stood instantly, a careless hand pushing her upwards left her couch fractured and sand tumbled around her ankles. “Hey, she wouldn’t… I tried to get her moving–” What was there to say? Sid’s brain wanted to say every word she’d ever heard before, but no such genius translated to her lips. Even if she’d managed every pairing of words and phrases she’d had she was sure none of them would sit well with the blonde. “You don’t need to apologize, definitely not your fault.” Sid spoke to her feet before daring a glance upwards. There was a beat where she got to take Stella in once more and she was sure it made everything worse. Stomach pretzeled and her mind at a loss. “You want me to grab her some water? I could do that.” There was surely no other string of words that would have had Stella stay even a second past what little conversation they’d already shared. It was more than enough, not that Sid was even deserving to be looked at by her. 

Stella had watched the cavorting canine ambush Sid, wet paws and all. A cold nose nudged inked hands as she was bargained with. Stella had fixed her eyes on the horizon with her stomach sinking faster than the sun. How many celestial risings and fallings had they witnessed as a duo? As a trio? From a sandy vantage point or a sleek balcony, to the soft rocking of the sailboat while coiled up in an embrace. Stella squinted into the dimming light as she turned to retreat. Ophelia had found one of her favored people, unaware of the cause of the sudden and perpetual absence from her life. There had not been a defining moment, no clear end. Just a barricade of a bathroom door and an onslaught of tears; something Stella did not allow herself to shed easily. 

“It’s fine, all good,” Stella made a dismissive gesture before letting her fingers rake through a windswept, golden halo. She wished she could dismiss the unsettling feeling so flippantly. It would make locking eyes around town easier. She wished it would take the sting out of seeing the bee buzzing amongst the blossoms rendered upon her ribcage by the artist. A honeybee should only be able to sting once, but Stella had yet to remain unscathed from such cutting beauty, and certainly wouldn’t when presented face to face. “She missed you,” Stella concluded. “I d-,” the words were lost to the sea breeze. Gone before Stella let them fully form. She did, too. “I think she’d enjoy that. If you wouldn’t mind, of course,” she added quickly. Stella was offering an escape, yet was undecided if she would take one if offered with the option.

[stellaroses]

sidjcmes‌:

“I really hope you’re heading somewhere important,” Sid asked the passerby from her cozy mound of sand overlooking the beach; steps from home but she felt immersed in the outdoors. There were some evenings that required a setup, a sculpted sand ‘couch’, a crate of beer and a fresh pouch of tobacco. As much as she enjoyed fast-paced traveling and bouncing around from state to state she had no issue offering moments to stillness. The setting sun had dashed pink across the sky, clouds splitting between oranges and dandelion yellows, the heavens alight and Sid just happy to be its audience. “You’re missing out on the best view on the whole beach.” Not true, but Sid often thought of herself as a pretty decent salesperson. 

“There are some things you just can’t miss out on in this world.” And Sidney James knew she was without doubt one of those things.

A vague hint of thought went into the starting and ending points of walks on the beach, but it evaded Stella on an evening like this one. She was far from avoidant, but she did her best to skirt around unpleasantries -- hoping her appearance wouldn’t be misconstrued as such. Grapefruit pink-tipped toes wiggled in the sand as she stepped ever onward between lazily lapping tides. A coiled leash dangled limply from Stella’s hand as she watched her dog dart in and out of the water, an amused shake of the head the only answer to a questioning glance from Ophelia. Honeyed hues lifted towards the sky once more before falling over its dappled, fractured reflection upon a glimmering surface. Stella wanted to cast everything in this luminescent glow and turned to her companion, yet Ophelia had set her sights on another soul. “O!” Stella called in abject horror after the departing golden blur, who made quick work of attempting to climb upon the carved out couch. Stella gave the duo a few minutes before she started to edge over. A lolling tongue and wiggling tail confirmed that Ophelia had found the treasure of Idlewild, and at one point Stella would have been inclined to agree. “Hey, sorry,” was all she could get herself to utter.

[stellaroses]

chrissydelarosa‌:

“I mean, it looked way easier on HGTV.” Chrissy stepped back from the upended dresser and crossed her arms, oblivious to the paint she slathered all over them. “Good thing I wiki-how’d it, or I’d be totally lost. But I think it’s coming together,” she added, a hint of eagerness to her tone. The whole look of the house she was staging was hinging on this piece, after all. “Don’t you think?”

“Oh?” Stella questioned, lifting her attention from nestling a portfolio case off to the side. Her other hand was balancing a tray with two iced coffees and she claimed one idly, offering the other up for the taking. She stooped to scrutinized, but a smile answered before her words could. “It’s never that easy, but I think I like this even more.” Her eyes glanced around the room before landing back on Chrissy. “Where is it going to go? I think it’ll anchor the space nicely.” 

[stellaroses]

hi hello, I’m Rian and here’s a sweet little bean that makes poor choices

Stella Rosenthal is 28 and a curator at the art museum and went to Columbia in NYC for art history + archaeology, and runs Rosenthal Fine Art Restoration as well. She likes to keep busy but is incredibly grateful for a fair bit of overlap. 

She grew up in Calderwood and travels extensively. Months abroad has dwindled and she is more likely to stay put. It’s an easy place to leave, but she’s always pulled back to it as a home base and has doubled down on reestablishing roots and her career. 

She’s deaf in one ear and has a mean right hook when spooked/snuck up upon, and has accidentally broken someone’s nose a time or two. Don’t mistake softness for weakness.

She is that friend you can call in the middle of the night or show up on her doorstep. She might help you hide a body if you bribe her with enough sweet potato fries.

Stella’s empathy is through the roof, but her bullshit tolerance is actually quite low except for those that she develops a soft spot for. She’s a mom friend but tries to maintain a “live and let live” outlook and tries to only swoop in to stop someone from total ruination -- gentle nudges towards something vs. trying to control anyone. 

She turns into surprised Pikachu when anyone tries to help out with her emotions, however. Everything! Is! Fine! at all times!

Her rescue dog, Ophelia, is the light of her life. At her lowest point, Stella tried to drown herself and 100% chose that name because she does not know subtlety, but knows an odd sense of humor. 

She gets buried under a lot of emotional weight - both her own and others’ - and she does a lot of emotional heavy lifting, though a fair bit gets dumped on her and not totally by her choice.  

Lowkey mom friend that tells dad jokes. They are equal parts amazing and abysmal, but Stella keeps them tucked beneath layers of charm and you can never quite be sure when one will bubble to the surface. 

She is working on restoring her grandfather’s sailboat, kept in Idlewild. Stella is always happy to have a first mate for a day.

She loves love, but her heart has gotten her into some sticky situations. She has largely ruled out true romantic notions for herself and usually opts for casual, lighthearted flings. Stella is likely to self eject before she can get hurt -- or worse -- hurt anyone else.

Here is her pinterest board!

Connections

I have a wanted connections page, but she is certainly not limited to those! Stella grew up in Calderwood and is rather involved in the art scene. She lives in the Carlysle City Center. Childhood friends, neighbors, paths crossed in NYC, travel buddies -- anything is fair game and I’d love to get something going!