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"But luthiers don't fix them. Plucked, bowed, and fretted strings only," Shay replied. Yes, technically pianos had strings, but they required vastly different construction and repair methods. Plus, the shop was small. Too small to fit a 500+ pound instruments inside. As she continued, Shay couldn't help the tug of a grin that pulled at his mouth. Playing an instrument was a wonderful stress relief. He'd found solace in the guitar years ago, and still found it today. "We do indeed make violins here," Shay said. "What kind of sound are you going for? Sticking to classical? Or dipping your toes into something new? Bluegrass? Folk? Maybe a little jazz?" Shay quirked a brow. "You look like you could make bluegrass work, you know?" By that he meant, of course, she looked like the exact opposite of someone who would be playing Bluegrass.
phoebe hummed in faux dissatisfaction, she was far from a professional in this field. "classical, yes." she understand folk and jazz, but bluegrass stumped her. brows knitted together the longer she thought about what sound bluegrass meant and if she'd ever heard it before, finally tearing her gaze away from the array of parts on display. "what is bluegrass?" the slightest disdain mixed with her curiosity. "it sounds so. . . rural." and then immediately overthought her comments. "i am merely looking for something to play in my downtime." which she had plenty of here. "you know how to build violins so. . . do you play also?"
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would you believe us if we said that wasn't really BRITTANY SNOW? well, it isn't .ᐟ.ᐟ that's GWENDOLYN SPENCER, a proud resident of pinehaven for the last 37 YEARS. you can find them working over at SAGE & STONE as the OWNER. they're 37, but they hardly look that old! it must be the washington weather that keeps them looking so young .ᐟ.ᐟ word around the town is that they're SELFISH, OVERDRAMATIC, CONTROLLING, but we think that's silly. we feel like they're much more CONFIDENT, EXPRESSIVE, PERSISTENT. if we had to pick one song to describe HER, it would be GIRL ON FIRE BY ALICIA KEYS. see ya 'round, GWEN .ᐟ.ᐟ
BASICS
full name: gwendolyn sage spencer
nicknames: gwen, winnie (off limits)
gender: cis woman
pronouns: she, her
sexuality: heterosexual
age: thirty-seven
birthdate: october 23
occupation: owner of sage & stone, former emt
ABOUT (tw: death, miscarriage, infertility, divorce)
gwendolyn sage spencer was born to cash and heather spencer on october 23.
the house was lively with so many children running around and gwen made sure she was getting as much (or more) attention than her siblings. the feat wasn't that difficult, gwen unabashedly loud (and one would have to be in that household). still, she was doted on constantly, boosting her confidence and self-assuredness.
while the family continued to grow, they remained tight-knit. they traveled to races whenever they could to support cash, and gwen made sure she was always in view of cameras, commanding their attention even at young ages.
she became an emt at 19, after graduating and completing training. she was full-time then and the job became her life.
at 20, gwen became engaged to her high school sweetheart, the pair having dated for 6 years at that point. their relationship was great and gwen saw herself living the white picket fence life with her future husband. they wed when she was 21. . . and things started to slowly crumble.
(infertility tw) they tried growing their family, but gwen couldn't sustain a pregnancy. this went on for years and she became scared of seeing a positive pregnancy test, she was 24 when she asked to put a pause on a family. they could circle back in a couple years, and while her husband didn't want to keep waiting, he begrudgingly agreed. he didn't want to adopt either, he wanted a child of his own.
(death tw) a couple years later, gwen and her ems team responded to a car accident in town. the fire department was already on scene, cutting through the metal frame when her heart dropped into her stomach. she knew that car, all too well. shock and adrenaline were the only things keeping gwen on her feet as she tended to her father, pleading and reassuring him that everything would be okay. she was taken off the case when they arrived at the hospital, and then reality hit her. she was the one to notify her mom and siblings. the day still haunts her.
grief consumed her, but she threw herself into more shifts and longer hours. at one point, her husband said she needed to cut back on work or risk losing him, so she stepped down to part-time. she couldn't give up the job fully but compartmentalizing her feelings wasn't helping either. and now her husband was appeased to actually spend time with her outside of "good mornings" and "good nights."
much to his dismay though, gwen started crafting her own business with her free time. between checking on her family and now trying to make two jobs work, the marriage was cracking even further. she needed to stay busy, and her own business meant keeping control of one thing in her life. resentment festered between them but gwen was in denial. their marriage was fine! she was fine! their breaking point came a couple years after her father's death, gwen still grieving and having bouts of tears when her husband told her enough is enough, she needed to figure out how to move on so they could move on. of course, this upset her and him saying he was filing for divorce was enough for her to give up on him and their marriage. gwen beat him to filing, driven by pride and self-preservation.
she opened sage & stone, a day spa a few years after that. the spa offers nail services, massages, facials, and the like. those four walls became her safe haven, though she also maintained her job as an emt for a short while longer.
(death tw) the spencer matriarch's passing is reopening old wounds for gwen. she fully stepped down from her emt position to take care of family matters and make sure her siblings don't fall off the tracks. she's at a breaking point herself but refuses to admit needing help, she's fine!
"no more shots for you," he hummed softly. indiana pushed the frosty glass of water towards indy with a knowing kink in his brow. "drink up indigo. you've been buffering at the table for fifteen minutes now and if we're going to live to see the next morning you need to sober up. i suggested pre-gaming at some fancy gastropub since we're avoiding the same bartender at mcnastys but that didn't mean i want you to get too fucked up to support ginger."
"you, sir, don't know my limits." the sloshing liquid in her glass begged to differ. "if i stop, you stop too." she moved the glass of water half an inch closer to her, but she'd certainly finish her current drink first. "i haven't even had that many, this place just has the good shit which is why drinks are on you tonight." mcnasty's was the common choice because it was dirt cheap, and sometimes the drinks matched that cost. "never thought i'd see the day where you want to sober up first, has indiana jones changed his ways?"
status: closed for @btwnthepines ( temperance )
location: the library
practically raised within the library's four walls, olivia still found sanctuary amongst the shelves. a space where peace and quiet were enforced, her home office couldn't even compare. town hall definitely did not, people in and out of her office all day alongside endless phone calls. granted, she chose this life and wouldn't complain.
she claimed one of the large oak tables nestled within the history section, the area quickly transforming into command central. numerous planners, a color-coded calendar, pens, highlighters, and miscellaneous papers that held various levels of importance were meticulously laid out in front of her.
time passed differently here. olivia hadn't noticed how long she'd been sitting there, boring holes in the same budget sheet over and over until admitting defeat with a quiet sigh. she leaned back in the creaky wooden chair, fingers dragging down her cheeks as her head tilted back in a much needed stretch. her eyes drifted toward the circulation desk, her mother finishing up a checkout with the same unhurried grace olivia admired.
"mama?" she asked once the exchange ended, voice just loud enough to carry over. she could count on one hand how many people got to see her vulnerability, her mothers two of those spots. anxious energy turned into straightening the papers and objects on the table, even when nothing was out of place. she felt on the brink of losing control and hated every second of it, ashamed and embarrassed to ever ask for help. "do you think i do too much for silas? or care more than i should? some of the things he says. . . he's going to win another election and doesn't seem to care."
the flurry that was his assistant was sometimes the only thing that kept silas going throughout the day . he would occasionally wander off , head off to the park to watch the birds or sneak down to lg bean + tea for lunch with his wife . if it wasn't for liv , there were some days where he wouldn't be productive at all if he didn't have to be . it wasn't that he didn't care , it was more so that he'd cared for such a long time and was yearning for an old man's version of freedom . wide open spaces , the embrace of the woman he loved , and sweet time .
still , he appreciated that liv was so productivity-forward . someone ought to be . “ what voters ? ” he asked , taking a seat on the edge of her desk , apple in hand . his midday snack between lunch and later lunch . “ i'm the only one on the ballot and i'm pretty sure everyone's gonna vote for me again . that's sort of what happens when there's no one else to choose from , ” he said , incredulous . after all these years , the excitement of an opponent would be a welcomed challenge . would keep his mind fresh , if nothing else .
“ take a breather , liv . the constituents aren't going anywhere , and this is basically like our free time to work on whatever we want before the schoolyear begins , ” he shrugged . getting a head start on the next year would mean doing the annual town conference about the school's budget early , and he wanted to prolong that for as long as he could . he was glad to divvy money out to the pinehaven educational system , but not at the expense of his sanity . the pta moms were another breed of human altogether . “ we can skip involvement in the drive , by the way . in fact i insist on it , no . i'm not going out of my way to appear in public when i don't even have any kids in school anymore . no way . ”
"you say that now until newly-registered eighteen-year-old voters discover the write-in option. if i have to hear about deez nuts gaining even a sliver of votes this year, i may implode." she pinched the bridge of her nose while taking the much-needed breath. some people had no respect for democracy. she plopped down in her chair, two seconds of rest enough before she started moving things around on her desk. "besides, things change and someone could theoretically be planning their legitimate write-in campaign and take the win out from under us." and where would that leave her? assistant to the former mayor? out of a job?! not on her watch.
"last i checked, you're still the mayor, but if you do insist on skipping the drive, i can work up a statement explaining your absence." with or without voters and election opponents, they shouldn't rest on their laurels. olivia paused sorting through the papers littered on her desk, hands lowering as a concerned gaze pointed across at silas. "are you feeling well? do i need to phone in an appointment at the clinic? you should really consider taking vitamin c and zinc when you start feeling sick." the bottom drawer of her desk slid open, an emergency stash of supplements organized alphabetically (the drawer above contained snacks, she never needed to leave her desk!) "you're only allowed to get sick after the election."
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it was a quiet day in the shop . it usually was in the middle of the week , even in the summer . only fitz was in at the moment , and sometimes that was nice because it meant he could work on lyrics or order lunch whenever he felt like it . so , of course , that was precisely the time the bell would ring out and signify that he was done putting pen to paper . he took one last bite of his onion rings ( which had gotten cold twenty minutes ago ) , then stepped into the front to greet the intruder .
had it been anyone else , he might have given them some irritating jab about how they were interrupting his downtime . instead , it was maybe the prettiest person he had ever laid his eyes on . how fortunate for him . she asked her question before he could speak , and he snorted out a laugh . “ well hey , if you're offering then i'm not gonna say no , ” he winked , leaning against the counter . the question was proof that she was new to the tattoo scene , and he couldn't resist having a bit of fun with her .
“ ‘course , you can also pony up twenty-five bucks and pick a design off the wall , and i’ll take that all the same , ” he announced . he also couldn't resist getting a good sell in . “ you gonna share that second coffee with me or do you always walk around with two iced lattes on your person ? ”
phoebe's train of thought derailed when he winked at her. she wasn't a stranger to winks thrown her way, but this was a far cry from the inside jokes shared with her brother or playful teasing from her ex. this man didn't even know her name! his boldness was unpredictable, even refreshing change of pace despite her flustered state. "i don't–" know what to do. "i'm–" and she fully paused, because she wasn't engaged anymore.
pink tones flushed over her cheeks the more she tried to get a complete sentence out. was this flirting? she had no clue. everything in her life fell into a particular arrangement, never needing to worry about things like finding a partner when expectations and public opinion outweighed personal curiosity. only when the pressure cooker finally combusted did she get any reprieve, and now she stood in a tattoo parlor for the first time in her life, short circuiting over a wink.
the coffees still in her possession were a welcome distraction, phoebe approaching the counter to set them down. "of course! i mean, one is meant for jazz, so you can have this one." she plucked one cup from the holder, a cursive 'phoebe' scrawled on the side, and set it before him. "is he here? he told me i could always find him here. . . i'm not getting a tattoo, by the way, i came to say hi."
jude was more at home within the walls of mcnasty's pub than he was in his run-down apartment. he was a regular barfly, taking up residence in his usual seat at the bar, a glass of whiskey gripped in his right hand; a glass he had been nursing for the past half hour. pulled out of his thoughts by a question beside him, jude tuned back into reality and offered a small chuckle. "first time?" he asked, with a knowing tilt to his head and a smirk twisting his lips. "i don't think everyone comes here for fun, perhaps just to escape the monotonous merry-go-round of life for a few hours. have a drink or two and everything else fades into the background." he lifted his whiskey glass in a gesture of cheers.
"that obvious?" she couldn't hide the disdain on her face, brows knit together as she tried to find some sort of reason to call this place enjoyable. phoebe attempted to slide onto the stool, heels slowly lifting off the tacky floor. "how dreary can life be that you have to escape to a place called mcnasty's? this town must have other things to do that aren't so. . . loud." phoebe still didn't have a drink, too off put with just getting around the room without completely bumping into someone or having a drink spilled on her. not a recognizable wine bottle in sight, she settled for water. "are you here to escape then?"
Shay had been head down all day finishing up a guitar that had been pushed to the backburner after a more urgent repair came in. The phone hadn't rang, no one had come in, the ping for a new email hadn't even gone off. It was a quiet day, just the way he liked it. When someone's voice broke his concentration, Shay realized that... shit maybe he'd just missed the phone ringing and the emails pinging. He could get completely lost in a project if he wasn't careful.
At her question, Shay glanced around and raised a brow. But he still stood up, knowing that he had to help a customer even if they were asking weird questions. "This is a repair shop, we do string instruments." Shay said, leaning both hands on the counter and leveling her with his usual deadpan expression. The shop name was a bit misleading, considering they worked on all types of strings, but whatever. "I can make you a violin but it'll take a few weeks." One violin took him roughly 250 hours to make from scratch. He only did a few a year because they were time consuming and fucking expensive. "You'd be looking at... minimum of 6 grand... depending on the wood, the strings, the ebony fittings..." He tilted his head to the side. "Do you play? Or just want something to hang on the wall? I can make something less impressive." Shay shrugged. "Don't do pianos though."
phoebe stared blankly at him, considering his statement. "technically. . . " she started quietly, looking back at the ash guitar body her fingers slowly traced over, "pianos have strings." nonetheless, he already said they were a no-go. her expression brightened at the mention of a custom violin. "you make violins here?" she moved toward the counter and settled her hands on the edge, her attention fully his now. "classically trained, i've been playing most of my life. it's wonderful stress relief." the choice was hers now, either agree on a new violin or consider having hers shipped from home. . . where it could be potentially damaged in the process. a no-brainer, the cost pocket change. her hands clapped together, smile widening. "okay, where do we begin for the violin?"
phoebe spent twenty-three years believing she belonged in certain places – and didn't belong in others. tattoo shops were high on the "do not enter" list, despite the pleas of one adamant artist who seemed keen to get her through the door. not that tattoos themselves were bad or people who had them were intimidating, but she'd never given visiting one a second thought.
permanent ink didn't reflect well in her line of work.
her reflection stared back at her on the dark-tinted windows, two iced coffees contained within the cardboard holder. if phoebe was finally going to cave and visit jazz, she'd bring an offering. the bell above the door announced her arrival before she could change her mind. she knew etiquette quite well, just not. . . here. was she supposed to wait? call his name?
gaze flickered around the waiting area before settling on the wall of art, a flash wall. whatever that meant. "the art is lovely," she stated upon hearing footsteps approach, her voice softening to almost a whisper for the rest of her commentary. "but. . . you don't make people flash you for tattoos. . . right?"
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music stores near me. her phone's map didn't provide many options, but phoebe should consider herself lucky she got any results considering the town limits. her apartment was far too quiet though, the minimal space not hindering her bright idea to add a piano. she'd learn the hard way, eventually.
she stepped through the entry of her closest match, roady's guitar repair, and her smile faltered. not an intact instrument in sight. boxes of guitar strings lined the walls, along with many, many other guitar parts she couldn't even begin to name. still, she ventured further into the shop until her eyes landed on someone she assumed was an employee. "excuse me. . . where are the rest of the instruments? pianos? violins? do you have either of those?"
"am I the new spinster of the family or does auggie still count? men don't usually get flack for being single and getting to mingle." cordelia examined the neatly kept blonde ends of her hair that flopped between her fingers. she picked absently at the light cords of gold, avoiding the elephant in the room. "how's the wheat gress growing by the way auggie?" @brcvehecrts @arabesq
"hey." if no one knew better, they'd mistake august's expression for true offense. knitted brows, lips tugged downward disapprovingly in classic forbes manner. "i did my time." and continues to do so whenever their mother brings up marriage and grandchildren. "you know not to get me started on garden-talk but business is doing well." he needed something successful just to live with the forbes name day-to-day. "at least one of us shaved off expectation–" he glanced toward jessamine before ending with "mrs. santos, i take it married life is treating you well? haven't seen you stop smiling since the vows." @arabesq