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@tapestr1es
── .✦ multimuse blog dependent on @maplebrookhq. penned by jace. 28. cst. they/them. tracker
armando delgado — 43 y/o ranch hand @ evergreen stables. ── .✦ intro. musings. cordelia moon — 56 y/o headmistress @ davenport academy. ── .✦ intro. musings. estelle fairmont — 32 y/o actress @ the birmingham. ── .✦ intro. musings. samira rao — 41 y/o baker @ nine lives cafe. ── .✦ intro. musings.
Ema smiles at the sentiment, nodding in approval at the man's words. "Ha. I'm not too sure about that, but now I know who to look to for jam recommendations at the farmer's market." The appreciation in their voice is sincere, and while Ema was someone who tended to be more on the shyer side, she was always happy to make a new connection, however brief. "Between my fiancée, my son and I, I'm sure we'll get through it quick." Pausing to pick up a jar of jam, Ema tucks it into her bag, passing some cash over to the vendor to complete the transaction. "I won't keep you any longer, but thank you again."
“Oh sure, I am always easy to spot.” He laughed, gesturing to his outfit. “Just look for the tall idiot with a cowboy hat near good ol' Miss Hazel and I'll be happy to tell ya what this genius has whipped up next.” He tossed his thumb in the direction of the vendor, a big grin on his face. “I know we're strangers, but it'd be a shame to not say congratulations on the engagement.” He shrugged, happy to have helped a stranger and Miss Hazel all the same. He tipped his hat in her direction. “Enjoy the rest of your day, ma'am.”
— END —
Ana had her face scrunched up as she looked down at the wine menu. Why on earth did they even put fish oil in drinks? It sounded straight up disgusting. It's not like she could afford to frequent a place like this, but when she made a bit extra on tips she liked to treat herself just a little. Something about "locally sourced" always perked her up, especially in a small town like this.
However, she forgot how much easier it was to find vegan wine in a corporate store than in a place like this.
She glanced up from the menu at the woman speaking to her. "Yeah, it is gorgeous." She agreed, as she looked out over the winery. She loved plants. Things that grew. It was hard not admire the place. "I don't com here often, though. Too pricey and too fish oily. What about you?"
The newcomer's response made Estelle nod in agreement, happy to be in the company of a likeminded individual. “It's the perfect start to the autumn season.” She hummed, crossing her legs and angling her body more toward the other woman. Estelle was ignorant to the undercurrent of distress the other was currently in, too busy sipping her wine and enjoying the sight of a beautiful woman in front of her, even if she hadn't fallen for her line. Oh well, the night was young.
“It is a little oily, isn't it? I think it has something to do with the refining process.” Estelle shrugged, rolling her eyes as if those thoughts were far too complex for her and like she hadn't considered becoming a sommelier at one point. “I think younger wines are your ticket, though. Lots of wineries are starting to implement vegan alternatives to keep up with supply and demand.” She said, then let out a laugh and shook her head, scrunching her nose in embarrassment. “Oh my gosh, I sounded just like my sister. Let's forget that happened.” With a flick of her free hand, a waiter came rushing over to take her next order, a simple implication of everything the Fairmont name stood for. “Let me buy you a bottle as an apology for my nonsensical rambling.” She turned to the other with a friendly glint in her eyes, “What do you say?”
Katherine Mansfield, The Collected Stories
"I'm good at what I do." Indy teases lightly, giving Samira a few moments to get situated so that she could see the stencil. "Thank you. I'm glad we got what you envisioned on paper." It could be a struggle at times, but Indy always prided themself on taking the time to get to know their clients and making sure they always got the tattoo that they wanted. "I'd say an hour, maybe a little longer? If you're not ready today, I can keep the stencil and we can schedule something for another time. I get it if you didn't think you'd commit today."
At Indy's teasing, Samira couldn't help but just beam at them. “That is apparent!” She meant it, earnestly and genuinely. It was rare to find such a humble and talented artist, in maple brook of all places. Indy truly had taken their time to make Sami's vision come to life, and now she was almost fully convinced this was what she wanted. Indy had a dangerous power of persuasion, that was certain. “I honestly didn't think I'd commit today.” She agreed, taking another glance at the stencil. She put the mirror down again and shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, but what the hell! I say we go for it.” Sami laughed, because truthfully, she knew if she walked out today, she would have a hard time working back up the courage to come back inside. “Should we get started?”
Elise is truly just glad he was honest. Not to say that she didn't believe that he, personally, wouldn't be. Time in New York city had hardened Elise to be skeptical of strangers and their willingness to be helpful. It wasn't a good outlook. It wasn't a kind outlook.
Still, Elise smiles and nods to his assessment. "Thank you. My mother gave it to me," Elise says, not wanting to get into the quite dreary history that that was. For as nice of things as her mother would give her... it didn't really ease the ache Elise feels thinking about her. What might have been if her mother had been kinder and all of that. "Which, before that it might have been my grandmother's, so you could call it a family jewel."
When he explains how he saw it, Elise does smile. "I love a good mystery," she says. "I always admire the people who can put those pieces together, and the writers who do it in reverse. Not myself, admittedly. I'm much more straightforward. I don't guess the endings ahead of time."
She grins, then. She didn't always want to admit it, but despite her awkwardness with socializing, she was a social creature.
"I'm Elise, by the way. Good to meet you. I've seen you before, haven't I? At Aurora's Fair?"
There was always more to someone's story, and that was probably the case with the older woman — Elise — but Armando knew better than to pry. So he took the simple explanation easily, digested it, and accepted it at face value. Should they become closer, maybe then would he try to poke at the crevices of the other's mind. “Three generations?” He whistled, his hand to his chest and his best attempt at seeming the southern gentleman. “I dare say it might end up in a museum one day for all to say.” His lips twitched into a smile. “Maybe we can find someone to paint you wearing them to display next to them.” His first thought was Nari, who, truthfully, hadn't touched her craft in sometime, but he'd seen enough of her previous work to know that she could do it justice.
At the dissection of his favorite genre, Armando listened keenly, fascinated by the older woman's perspective. “How could anyone not love a mystery? A good whodunit is food for the soul.” He joked, enjoying his conversation with the other. As rigid as she had appeared, he appreciated that she seemed more than willing to engage with him. Something was probably to be said about judging a book by its cover here, but that was far too cheesy for even the cowboy to say. “Do you write?” He asked, it suddenly hitting him the full weight of her words. Her face did have a familiarity to it, but he was almost certain he would need more to go on than a face if she was anywhere in these shelves. “I bet you have a sharp eye for the details. Probably draws the reader right in.” He mused, rubbing his chin in thought for a moment.
“Where are my manners?” He let out a bashful chuckle, extending his hand to the other. “Name's Armando. And I reckon so, it's one of the only places to get my assortment of jams and plants.” His free hand rubbed the back of his head, slightly mortified by the admission. “I reckon you must go as often as me if you recognized me from there. What's your favorite stall?" He asked, eager to deflect back to the other, even if just for a moment's reprieve.
THE WHITE LOTUS | 2.07 BYG
the leaves turning colour was eli's favourite part of the fall, especially as an artist. they loved trying to capture the vividness of the season on paper, especially as the town transformed for spooky season. this was their first fall in maple brook, having only moved a few months ago, but they loved it even more than the big city. "they really do. i came from new york, and fall there is a different, darker creature." there were certain things they had loved about the big city, but didn't really miss it much. they had taken to maple brook as their new home quite quickly.
"i'll have to seek her out. i have a weakness for beautiful women." eli teased with a wink as she slid into the seat across from estelle. sure, she hadn't been invited to sit, but she was engrossed in the conversation now. obviously nothing could come of this, eli knew that, but she also knew that she spoke the truth when she said she loved beautiful women. even a few moments of estelle's attention was enough for her. "ah, i just needed a night out, yano? i'm young and hot and everybody deserves to see me." most of this self-esteem was a projected front, a defense mechanism to make her seem more confident than she really was.
“Oh, the city was terrible all year round.” Estelle agreed, then lifted the glass to her lips with a shrug. After a sip, she let out a dreamy sigh. “How I miss it so.” Her bottom lip pouted, before she leaned closer to the other, a gleam in her eyes. “Did you live there your whole life? You kind of have this ‘devil may care’ vibe that most new yorkers tote.” Her lips curl into an easy smile, interest twinkling in her eyes. It was easier for her to speak of new york like it was a distant memory, as if broadway had been a thing she'd chosen to walk away from, and not something she had felt forced to. returning to maple brook had been a tragedy to her — her only consolation the company of strangers and the beauty of the orange leaves.
Stell let out a laugh, surprised to be hit on back, and covered her mouth behind her hand. “You are a fiery little minx.” She grinned, holding up her drink to the other to clank. “Oh, I think I'll keep you.” It probably was a habit she should have kicked awhile ago, speaking to people as if they were dolls on her shelf — but she couldn't help but admire the beauty she associated herself with, and the wit they had to match. Estelle cleared her throat to begin her toast, “Here's to a weakness for beautiful women. May they fall into our laps and beds aplenty.” Though it was hidden in places Stell knew better than to look, Eli had this sort of sadness about them, a wall that the blonde decided not to crack just yet, but was curious of all the same. How could someone so young, already have so much hurt? She nodded along and cheered. “Yes! And we are all better for your presence!”
where: local park bench when: early morning who: anyone (0/3)
The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled light across the quiet park. Jenny sat on her usual bench, a half-finished coffee beside her and a worn paperback resting in her lap. The cool air carried the scent of rain and freshly cut grass — her favorite kind of morning.
She glanced up as footsteps approached, a warm smile tugging at her lips. “Didn’t think anyone else would be out this early,” she said lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Guess I’m not the only one avoiding the chaos of the day.” A soft chuckle escapes her lips.
When Cordelia couldn't sleep, she paced — usually in the comfort of her own home. But, since Helena had recently visited, the headmistress had had trouble being able to pace in peace without her mind beginning to wonder. At some point, wandering the town in sweatpants and an oversized sweater had seemed liked the best option, but that had been before the sun had come up. Now, Cordelia squinted, using her hand as a visor, in the direction of the voice. “Yeah, I forget how much of a ghost town it can be this early.” One of the things Cordy had always loved about her hometown was the way everything had structure and order, curfews and blessed silence. The other, was not a disruption, however, but more of a welcomed distraction.
“You can say that again.” Cordelia sighed, running a hand through her hair, debating is she needed to say herself the trouble and just pull it back. “What about the day are you avoiding?” The older woman asked, brows raising as if she couldn't think of any reason Jenny Porter might be having a bad day. They didn't teach at the same institutions, however, Cordelia had seen her at enough town functions to have respect for the social worker. “The kids giving you trouble over at the public school?”
"To each their own." Alvaro agrees with a nod, his gaze moving to the pumpkin that Cordelia is talking about. "Oh, no. I hate clowns." He chuckles, quickly averting his gaze. "They don't really nap much these days, so I'll take it. Probably a growth spurt or something coming." Either that or a sickness, so he was hoping for the former more than the latter. "Lucky for me, they're not starting preschool until at least next year, so we have some time to get into more of a school type routine." Alvaro wasn't really that worried. He was definitely a go with the flow kind of guy. "How old are your kids?"
Cordelia nodded at his words, a wry smile on her face for a brief moment. “What did clowns ever do to you? Make a shitty balloon animal?” Her eyes are drawn back to his children, and she's left thinking they're cute, and then that she is so glad she never has to deal with babies again. Even as a grandmother, she'll hold them for five minutes or less, because the smell of spoiled milk still haunts her dreams. “Could they be teething?” She offered, looking at them with the same kind of fret one might have when they see an animal that scares them. “Oh, ancient now. My youngest gives me trouble from time to time. But that's just being in your twenties.” She shrugged, then laughed. “I do not miss being that young. How about you?”
where: route 82 drive-in when: some evening in november who: estelle & taylor (@clemcntia)
The drive-in had been one of Estelle's favorite places growing up. When she wasn't being driven around by older classmen in their cars to get frisky, she was being an insufferable bother to Evelyn in order to be around her dearest Taylor. The Birmingham girl had all the fame and horror Estelle could only dream of having attached to her name, and in some bizarre twist of fate — she wanted nothing to do with it. If that didn't make Estelle want to throw herself at the ground and worship the altar she had made of the ever cool, ever older Taylor, she didn't know what would. But, the middle Fairmont liked to believe that in time, she had gotten over her awestruck devotion of the professor who was polite enough to pay her the time of day, but catching up with her after months of not seeing each other would truly tell them.
“There she is!” Stell cheered, hopping out of her father's convertible she'd ‘borrowed’ for the night. He was out of town anyway — how much could he miss it? She walked over to the approaching brunette, and threw open her arms for a hug. “How's my sexy little professor doing? Keeping those criminals on their toes?” There was a sort of comfort she found in disarming her friends with flirtations, a strive for the upper hand she always felt she needed, a sort of desperation to undercut tension with the implication of desire, and the absolute certainty that she would go through with it if there was even a chance of reciprocation. Still, flirting with Taylor was weird — it was similar to flirting with an older woman just to charm her. It didn't help that Rain Taylor Birmingham, had laughed enough times in her face that she got the memo. With a shake of her blonde tresses, she guided the other toward the concession stand. “You want some popcorn? Should we go full carbs and get chocolates and large drinks?” With a newfound glee in her eyes, she giggled, “Ooh, should we get sloppy drunk at Ev's wedding? I bet that would be fun.”
he let out a light chuckle at her impression, appreciating her sense of humour. "nah, i don't spend much time on social media. i have an official instagram account mostly run by my publicist that i occasionally use for stalking people from my past, but that's the most i've got." he'd once had a facebook account, but had long since forgotten the log-in. and even then, the only people he really stalked on instagram were his sisters, one of whom recently married and had a child. it was the closest he could get to being in their life, especially since he was too afraid to reach out.
he admired her restraint when it came to calling her students whatever she really wanted to, and offered her a kind smile at her use of the word twerps. "i was a choreographer, mostly. i didn't do much dancing myself, not in front of people. but you're right about the elitism. it's definitely something." it was the thing he had hated most about that world, even though he had found himself among the elite at one point. he had hated the way people treated him when he was at the top, and worse, how they expected him to treat others. he was constantly admonished for showing basic kindness to those far beneath him. it was a trait he'd never considered losing, as he remembered his own humble origins.
Cordelia nodded, respecting that he kept himself offline for the most part. And then — a surprised laugh again, when he mentioned internet stalking people from his past. “Damn kid, are you on the run?” She teased, though, like Cordelia, she could sense he probably had some skeletons in his closet, some past buried deep that was too tough to touch. Time would make it bearable, she knew this, but she hoped in time, the young author would too. “I remember when facebook first got big. It was like everyone I had ever wanted to avoid found me and was ‘poking’ me.” She sighed, then shook her head. “Now I just use it to pretend I am busy in waiting rooms or on public transit.” There was a shrug of her shoulders, a sort of ‘what can you do?’ expression on her face.
The charming young man corrected her so kindly, it took Cordelia a moment to realize she'd gotten her facts wrong. “Fascinating.” She admitted, a node of her head. “Now, if you were choreographing it, wouldn't you have to show them the move?" With a nod, she let out a sigh she had been holding for a while now. “Elitism in the arts is the death of it, really. I'm glad you broke through it. That's probably why you were such a phenomenon.” Cordelia flashed him a genuine smile, always finding it easier to be this encouraging and kind to strangers than her own children. She was working on it though. “So, its been eating at me. Is that book gonna get finished in a month?” There's a slight grin to her words, almost anticipating another curse, but mostly curious if the artist would be able to pull it off.
I know it was foolish of me to expect anything from you. I never should've. But it's you. You know how I've always felt since we were little.
LOVE IN THE CLOUDS│入青云 Ep. 14 ‧ Drama ‧ 2025
( @tapestr1es )
closed starter for @tapestr1es (samira) nine lives cafe
"What time do you get off?" Ana asked Samira, before taking a sip of her rice milk coffee. After spending all day digging up her back garden, she needed a bit of caffeine and figured she may as well say hi to Samira in the process. It was easier the more she did it, and she built up a lot of muscle from gardening, so she didn't begrudge the work at all. Doing it all day still tired her out, however. "And do you have any plans this evening?" She added.
Samira had been thrilled to see her recently appointed favorite customer come in while she was in the back. When she had made her order, Sami had decided to add a little pastry for her — a new vegan blueberry muffin recipe she was currently trying to perfect. “I think the perks of being head baker is whenever. But I'll probably stay another half hour at least.” Before she could share that the muffin she had just set down was vegan, the other spoke again. “Plans?” Her voice rose in question, taking a seat across from her. “No, no plans. What's on the agenda, Ana?” She asked, her fist under her chin in thought. She scooted the plate over to the waitress with her free hand and smiled, "This is vegan, by the way. Let me know how it tastes?”
Angelo swallows back another self depreciating comment about how Samira should put her faith elsewhere, offering her a small smile instead. "Do you want a top off or have I kept you too long?" He asks, not really realizing how long he had kept Samira. "Oh, no...those are definitely true. Sorry to disappoint." Truth be told, Angelo lived mostly off of takeout and premade and/or frozen meals. He wasn't much of a cook - or a baker, as he had pointed out - but that was okay. Angelo lived a pretty simple life, and he was fine with that. "I'm not gonna starve, I promise. Between you and Ale, I'm pretty sure of that."
Samira shook her head and finished the remnants of her glass. “I've actually probably stayed too long — sorry!” She laughed to hide discomfort, standing up and dusting herself off. “I hope I didn't take up too much of your morning.” When he admitted to his trouble cooking, Sami offered a shake of her head and fought the urge to wrap him up in a big, warm hug. “We'll have to work on that. Even if it is just pasta noodles and butter.” If he got a rotisserie chicken from the store, he could also sprinkle that on top. It would be pretty simple, and start to dip his toes into something more substantial. She'd have to gently nudge him in that direction next time. “You better keep that promise, Angelo.” Her threat was only semi serious, only slightly trying to intimidate him into some self care. “But, if you're up for it, we should grab dinner sometime. We could go out to eat, or you could come over, and I'll show you how to not burn water.” She teased, but he did hope he took her up on it sometime, he needed to be kinder to himself. She lingered in the trailer, half toward the door, half waiting for an answer.
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