fell into the sky

who: open ( @somertonstarter ) where: on the rocks bar when: 10pm, friday evening

Ari had traded her night job for an evening of comfort, choosing to sit in front of the bar, instead of stand behind it. She had a glass of something foamy and a bit murky. She didn’t even recognize the bartender before her, but one drink of it and she slid it forward, not enjoying the taste. She got up almost immediately, headed out the door, not even bothering to slide on her coat. 

Her hands fidgeted slightly as she reached for the pack of cigarettes in the back pocket of her jeans, taking one out, lighting it and taking a deep drag before clutching the cigarette box just a bit too tightly, her fingers turning white as she relaxed, taking another drag of the little death stick that was held prettily between her lips and fingers. 

She hated smoking, rarely did it, she was a pharmacist for Christ’s sake, but today had been a rough day. How many people had she seen that couldn’t pay for the drugs they so desperately needed? How many people did she turn away? Why was she, who first sat in a home straight out of New England Homes magazine, who wanted for nothing, who had spent her entire life wasting away, doing nothing to help those less fortunate? The drink had been the last straw of a lot of things that occurred today.

“Oh shit,” She stubbed the cigarette against the wall furiously, not wanting anyone to see her in such a state. She searched around for a pack of gum, mints, something, that she usually carried with her, but realized her jacket was still inside. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“How are you?” She responded, faking a cheerful attitude, hoping they wouldn’t say anything about the bad habit she had tried to conceal so badly, “Happy Friday,” She was fidgety again, the nicotine doing nothing to calm her nerves. She hoped, prayed, and manifested that the person before her wouldn’t mention the crushed cigarette that smoked faintly on the ground next to her. 

┅

On the Rocks was a place Ethan frequented in order to lose himself. Rather than spending his nights in his apartment alone, he liked to see friends or come here for the ambience. It could get pretty loud when the bar was packed, and the white noise of overlapping voices put him at ease and drove away the thoughts that might otherwise choose to plague him at night. 

He was taking a sip of his beer (a local porter) when he felt the person seated to his right brush past him. He glanced to his right, and noticed that she'd left her jacket behind. "Hey!" He called out, to no avail. The bar's decibel level had been steadily ramping up in the last twenty minutes or so since he'd arrived, so it made sense that she couldn't hear him. He glanced between her coat and his drink once, before grabbing the jacket and following her out. 

She was right outside, standing by the door, looking vaguely... suspicious (to his eyes at least). "Happy Friday," he echoed, before holding her coat out towards her. "You forgot your jacket." He made as if he was going to turn around, but stopped halfway. "You okay?" He asked, eyes searching her face. "You seem... on edge."  

Harvey grabbed a mic pack from his bag and handed it over. “You’re going to need to clip this to your lapel, and the box to your hip.” He stated. “We’re looking for any opinions. Whenever the camera man calls you over, you’ll go stand on the ‘x’ and tell him your opinion. They’re proposing updating the bathrooms, meeting hall, and two of the offices.”

┅

"Okay," Ethan replied, as he did what he was told, clipping the mic to his shirt and the box to his jeans. "What do you think?" He asked the man standing in front of him. He'd always gotten the sense that news producers (or whatever the man's official title was, he wasn't particularly well-informed when it came to the media world) were supposed to remain impartial, but he was sure he had some opinion or other on the matter. "My gut tells me to say, 'sure, why not?' but I'm really not informed on this at all."

“I really think yellow is becoming my colour.” Layla joked, spinning around once in the hat, though the thought of being head to know in the material was hardly one that appealed to her if she was being completely honest. “Sign me right up, I’ll perfect the voice and everything.” She teased, laughing once more at his attempt at stressing the accent.

“What’s life without a bit of spontaneity? Something incredibly life changing might happen if I get on that boat, so I’d be stupid not to.” The blonde was very much a ‘take every opportunity’ person, not quick to say to any sort of adventure - even if it was just checking lobster traps with a stranger in the early hours of the morning. “Works for me.” She confirmed, hand stretching out towards the other. “Layla Ferguson, honorary lobsterman, at your service.”

"That's one way to go about life," Ethan murmured. He'd never really been particularly spontaneous; the most spur-of-the-moment thing he'd ever done was when he quit his job and moved to Somerton, but that had seemed to suck out any degree of spontaneity he still had left in him. He was back in his comfort zone now, and happy, and he imagined it would take quite some work to get him going again. Inertia and all that. 

“A hot toddy, my mum swears by it to keep the chill away.” Lizzie murmured in reply shifting slightly to allow him past. She hadn’t seen Scotland but both her parents had been from there  and they’d kept some of the traditions. The food and drink in the Hendrick’s household being one of them.

“Is that your boat then? I’ll admit I’m always curious as to who owns them,”

┅

"I can't say I know what that is," Ethan replied. But a hot drink sounded like a good idea, especially in this weather. He could go for some hot spiked cider himself. 

"It's not my boat," Ethan responded, "it's my partner's. He's a lobsterman from the next town over. I'm just passing through." It was a bit of a rehearsed answer, one that was less and less true with every additional day he spent in Somerton. But it was the answer he'd chosen to stick with. At least for now.

it was always so easy to laugh when she was with ethan; he wasn’t presumptuous like so many of the other guys around, merely glad to be good company and willing to be himself around her. it only made him more endearing - something she was sure she wasn’t shy about, especially as she finished a drink and requested another from the bartender working that night. but there was a line there - one she wouldn’t cross, one she knew he didn’t want her to cross - so even if she touched his arm while she spoke, she never expected anything in return. 

“a blue lobster is a rarity - no wonder he got on the news for that one,” she grinned; she didn’t know a lot about the lobster trapping business, but she ate enough seafood even back home in georgia to know about the tall tale of unique colored lobsters. “and don’t think i wouldn’t enjoy getting to spend more time with you, even if it was at four in the morning - though, if there’s not enough cherry coke to mainline me through the morning, i might just fall asleep.” 

she sighed as she considered her swap - she’d made it just a couple months ago, after over a year on the nightly news segment. it had been a tough decision, but she didn’t second guess it. “writing all that disaster every day was kind of heartbreaking,” she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders - she loved listening to true crime podcasts and watched enough investigation discovery to be able to successfully pull off a murder if she wanted, but there was something about it being so close to home. “and the anchors weren’t always great to talk to - i mean, they’re a lot more ambitious and plan on landing a gig at NBC headquarters or something. they didn’t bother to get to know who was writing for them. working on the morning show with felicity is different. it’s more fun, more - worthwhile. even when it’s fluff and fun, at least i know the person reading the script i wrote knows who i am and wants to just bring some happiness to people.” 

"cherry coke in the morning?" ethan asked, scrunching his nose at the idea. "how do you manage that? that's like having pie before dinner." ethan was usually out and about very early in the morning too, but he subsisted on black coffee and whatever he could get his hands on at full o' beans. he supposed that really wasn't much better than cherry coke. "although i guess relying on gas station food to get me through the morning isn't any healthier," ethan conceded.  

"i hear you," ethan sympathized. "my cousin's in criminal law, and the job got to be pretty draining at times." it was hard, talking about his family in the past tense. he hadn't seen his cousin or any of the rest of his extended family since he'd made the move to somerton, and even when he called or texted any of them, they mostly spent their time asking him when he'd move back to boston and being skeptical of his life decisions. 

@somertonstarter

Harvey had, for some reason, been put in charge of gathering people for an on-the-street interview for the morning show. It was to gain opinions on whether or not the town hall should be renovated. He had no real opinion, but at least it was easy enough. He stopped a person walking by. “Would you like to be on camera for ‘Good Morning Somerton’ and give your opinion on the town hall renovations being voted on?”

┅

It was one of Ethan's days off, but he'd still gotten up fairly early out of habit, and decided to go out for a walk and grab some breakfast and coffee. He was lost in his own thoughts and not really paying any attention to his surroundings when he was stopped by a television crew. "Sure," Ethan replied to the question that was posed to him with a shrug. "Though I do have to warn you that I've only lived here for half a year, so I don't know if my opinion necessarily matters."

merrick laughed easily, teasing him with a quick “lightweight” in his direction before she took a sip of her drink - mixed perfectly, as always, the one thing that bars did much better in small towns than big cities. big cities wanted you to keep drinking, to buy more - small towns had a tendency to know that if you made a drink strong enough from the get go, you’d keep coming back in the long run. 

she settled in her chair, shrugging her shoulders, eyes trained on him the whole time she spoke - “felicity’s on vacation with the finace this week,” she scrunched her nose - she wasn’t a big fan of the replacement they brought in to cover, but it was a necessary evil. the news - even a morning fluff show - didn’t stop for anyone. 

“it’s a new chick stepping in this week, and she’s not really as fun to write for. she loves puns but hits them a little too hard which means i’ve been trying to keep away from them, but then she complains?” an exasperated sigh slipped out - she should have just auditioned to take over in felicity’s absence herself. “i almost miss writing the night show, at least that was all true crime and grit. don’t get me wrong, i love writing about puppy adoptions and wholesome stories about kids bonding together to build a giant snowman, but sometimes there’s not a lot of substance. but on the plus side, maybe if you found a huge enough lobster, i can convince them to come interview you.” 

ethan leaned back in his seat to listen attentively to merrick, nursing a pint of craft beer. new england ipas were a godsend. this was a hill he was willing to die on. "that sucks," he commiserated. "but hey, at least it's just for the week, right?" he could sympathize, though his experiences weren't exactly the same. as an analyst and as an associate investment banker, he'd been shuffled between managing directors constantly, at the beck and call of people whose personalities, working styles, and asks varied wildly. it hadn't been fun. 

"why'd you make the switch?" ethan asked. "from the night show to the morning? i don't think i ever asked." the plus side, he thought, for him at the very least, was that he could watch the morning show. not that he did. but if they ever got a tv set up in the boat, beyond the little radio situation they had going now, he totally would.

“Treating me like the royalty I deserved to be treated as, I love it.” Layla’s voice was still dripping with sarcasm, a playful roll of her eyes accompanying her words as she pulled a face. Her face pulled into a grin at the sight of the hat, no matter how bad it might look she was never one to turn away some free stash if she was able to get it. She didn’t hesitate in pulling it onto her head, her hands coming to frame her face. “What do you think? Suit me?” She asked, knowing that she probably looked absolutely ridiculous. “I’m sold. I’m tired anyway, and at least this way I might be exhausted enough to get some sleep when I get home. Sign me up, lobersterman.” It was the last thing she thought she’d wind up doing, but what was life without a little excitement?

"I think it looks great," Ethan replied with a grin. "Throw in some yellow overalls, some yellow gloves, and a lobster in each hand and I'd say you could 100 percent look the paht." He stressed the last word, dropping the 'r' to mimic the Boston accent common down in the docks.

who merrick & @ethanford when december 30th / evening  where on the rocks

somerton had a strange way of bringing people back into her life; chloe had been by far the most surprising, but when she ran into ethan a few months after he apparently moved in, she felt, almost, somehow, like it was a certain kind of fate. she’d known him from her days in the city - her friends and her would crash the bars downtown with investment bankers and stock brokers, looking for men to dote on them and appreciate them and tell them how hot they looked while paying the bill. but ethan hadn’t been that - he’d turned into a friend, someone she came to trust, someone she cared about. 

( someone, if she let herself, she knew she could fall for. he understood the pressure of having someone always expect the most out of you - it was something she had spent her entire life bucking, but he had only just begun. but she was a child then, and she was sure he still thought of her as a child now. 

still. ) 

meeting up at the bar every other week or so was a new thing for them - he was still new to town, and merrick took advantage of any chance to be out of her studio apartment. and if she got to flirt with him, even if he didn’t reciprocate - well, it was more the fun for her. 

“sorry i’m late,” she greeted, kissing his cheek briefly before shrugging out of her coat as she settled down at the stool next to him, a jack and coke already waiting for her - she had never once been on time, and she was grateful ethan never made a fuss about it. “i would give you an excuse, but i have none. i was watching netflix and i fell asleep and didn’t notice until the dominos guy was knocking on the wrong door.” 

┅

back in ethan's new york days, he'd spend friday nights at the banking world's preferred destinations—the newest, trendiest bars in soho and west village or the old haunts in midtown manhattan. he'd met merrick at some point pulling away one of his colleagues who was far too old for the college girls he was chatting up. those were nights he didn't look back on with any particular fondness (they were still work nights in his mind, for all intents and purposes, for bankers were always networking, even when they were completely inebriated). but merrick was different. she was one of the bright spots of a time filled in mostly with hues of grey, when his life was mostly work and sleep (if he got any). he'd truly cherished the moments of serendipity when they'd bump into each other out and about in the city. so when he'd moved to somerton, he was happy to find that their worlds coincided once again. 

"no worries," ethan assured merrick, waving off her apology. he was far too accustomed to her lack of punctuality to mind in the slightest. "you gave me a chance to start drinking before you even got here." he beckoned her closer. "let me let you in on a secret," he mouthed, a sly smile on his lips. "i'm already a little tipsy." 

he drew away, arm resting on the back of his chair. "how's work? what's the latest story?" he'd never been all that good of a writer so a career in journalism had never been particularly appealing to him personally, but he was interested in whatever his friends were interested in.

🔥

Lowell had never thought of his profession that way before, but he figured that’s how most organizations and unions and what not where established. They were in some way solution solvers, and he kind of sort of loved that. And loved that Ethan put that nugget into his brain. 

He then looked long and hard at the flowers, at the ones he had pointed out and a few of the others around the shop before he settled on an answer. “Well, I think actually what’s more important than the flowers, because like most flowers are super pretty anyway, is gonna be what you put in the card that goes with them. Like my mom has these boxes with letters from my dad, and then chuck, and like all the little notes and cards I made or gave her over the years. And sometimes she’ll just go back and look at all of them.” Lowell knew not all parents were like his, and from Ethan’s one-off comment it seemed like maybe his own had some pretty lofty expectations for their son, but he still figured most mom’s appreciated being able to hold onto certain sentiments. 

┅

Ethan was quiet for a moment, pensive, as he weighed what Lowell said. He'd never been able to really articulate why he left New York and his old life to his parents, but mostly because he hadn't really tried to. He thought they'd never understand. And though he couldn't see that kind of conversation really leading anywhere, it didn't hurt to at least give it a try. He wondered if he should give them a call, and if that might just ruin everyone involved's holiday. 

"That's some good advice, dude," Ethan said, blinking out of his reverie. He looked at the flowers in his hands, and put them back on the stand he'd picked them up from. He would think about it, and decide what to do later. What he did know now was that flowers wouldn’t be enough, not this holiday. But what he’d do about it was something still very much in flux. "I need to head out. Good luck with the flyers and catch you on the flip side?"

@ethanford​

Lizzie had always loved the docks, when she was little she would spend hours sitting with books at the shore imagining what it’d be like to leave on one of those boats. The adventurer in her was gone now but she was still fond of sitting there. She looked up from the flask she’d been sipping from when she heard footsteps behind her.

“If I’m in your way please feel free to tell me to move.”

Ethan had forgotten his phone charger on the boat when he'd left in the early afternoon, so he'd decided to take a short trip down to the dock to grab it before it got dark out. At first glance, the dock was empty as expected, but as he jogged down the dock, he noticed a woman perched at the end, right by the boat. 

"No worries," Ethan replied, "I just need to scoot by you to grab something." He hopped onto the boat, and grabbed his charger from the cockpit, before landing back on the wooden planks of the dock. He tilted his head slightly as he considered the woman still seated facing the ocean, wondering why she was here instead of out on the beach. "What are you drinking?" Ethan asked, nodding at his flask. "Something strong, I hope," he added with a laugh.

“You know, you’re really selling it to me. Of course I’m going to mention your name if it means I’m going to get the worst cup of coffee I’ve ever had, who wouldn’t want that?” Layla teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm with every word. She might not have been a coffee snob, but she definitely didn’t want a bad cup courtesy of name-dropping Ethan. “You know, you’re not wrong there. I reckon I’m a big enough girl to handle a couple of lobsters, keep you lobstermen under control too.” Another smirk tugged at her lips, although if she was being quite honest she wasn’t sure what the job entailed nor was she all that interested in being able to find out. Being at sea for what she imagined was likely hours every day was not the first thing she wanted to sign up for. “What’s in it for me if I do? How much work are you going to make me do exactly? Put me through my paces, or let me sit and watch?” She asked, an eyebrow raising in curiosity. 

"They might just throw in the worst muffin you've ever had too, just in case the coffee isn't bad enough," Ethan joked, eyes glimmering with mirth. He made a big show of tilting his head to the side, tapping his chin in thought. "If my company isn't reward enough for you, I'm sure we could work something else out." He rummaged through the bag at his feet, pulling out a silly yellow fishing hat he tried not to wear unless he absolutely had to. "You can have this hat, for one, totally free of charge."

Forest green eyes gazed out into the ocean where one glittering wave lapped over another–over and over, the repetitive motion lulling Rowan’s heartbeat to an ease, letting her to be without the need for something to do.  That’s what her life had been reduced to.  The young brunette had made her way from the big city to the coast to heal, to relax, to catch her breath.   But, she spent her days keeping herself busy enough to keep her brain quiet, and her nights in a trance wondering what it was like to connect to other human beings the way others seemed to be able to.  To feel seen.  

Until that trance was broken–usually by the sun, today by a handsome stranger.  Something about his approach was less than searing, less than the sharpness she felt when other people entered her space.  “Hey there..” Immediately, plush lips spread into a grin, her gaze turning on him.  “Oh, you know what? I think I might be close.”  Rowan gave quiet rumble of a laugh, tilting her head toward him–her eyes lingering on his for several pulses in a comfortable quiet.   “It’s early to be headin’ in to work.” The brunette commented, as if they knew each other well enough to know that’s what he’d been doing–as if they’d spoken more than a handful of words to each other.  “If I didn’t know any better I’d call ya a New Yorker.” 

┅

This was a total rarity for Ethan—being drawn to someone so intensely and profoundly before he even knew their name. He much preferred to just not feel, to pass in and out of others' lives like a breeze or a summer storm, and to have others do the same to him in return. The only things he truly loved could be found outdoors—the sea, the trees, an open field—and even that was something that took years for him to completely acknowledge. And years more to actually do something about it. But here he was. Here she was.

"In that case, you must be a mind reader," Ethan replied, with an incredulous laugh. "Not a New Yorker per se, but I did live there for a few years." He was sure it showed; some habits are hard to break. He didn't want to flush the city out of his system necessarily, but he doubted that he could, even if he wanted to. "And I'm heading to work too, so you're two for two so far." He paused, unsure of himself and how to best proceed. "I, uh-" Ethan grimaced, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Would you want to grab a drink sometime?"

It was a little past 5:30 am, earlier than Ethan had promised his partner he'd be down to the dock by, so he decided to take a rather circuitous route to work. He walked down quiet, residential streets, past little beach houses vacated in the winter—their driveways unplowed and their windows dark. He turned down a road and found himself on the sidewalk by the ocean, continuing on in the direction of the docks. He was almost there, maybe only a block or two away, when he spotted a woman to his right, perched on a rocking chair at the edge of her property, bundled up and staring off into the ocean. He squinted slightly (his eyesight was less than perfect but he'd always refused glasses), finding something about her dark hair so familiar, when he realized that this was the woman. The one from Full O' Beans whom he'd only seen a handful of times and always only in passing since that fateful day.

He took in a deep breath, pushing his bag up his shoulder subconsciously, before walking in her direction. "Hey," he called out, feeling more than a little silly but knowing there was no turning back now. He glanced between her and the ocean, smiling slightly. "Figure out the mysteries of the universe yet?"

WHERE: Fletcher Park 

 When: December 20th, 2020 sometime in the morning 

 Who: Open Starter @somertonstarter·

It was a little bit before Christmas and Bailey still had so much to do. Even though this year was a little different, he wasn’t spending it with his family since he’s been so busy with the restaurant being successful, and that was fine with him. The restaurant having good business made the man happy. The success made Bailey starting over all worth it.  However, he still had to buy presents and wrap them as well. He & his siblings always traded gifs 

The man wasn’t even finished decorating his apartment, even though It was a beautiful morning as it had snowed a few days ago, and the beautiful snow hit the ground and covered the whole town. Snow was his favorite. He first met his wife when it was snowing. Being in Fletcher Park was one of his favorite things to do right before Christmas. It was beautiful, and he needed the fresh air. Sitting on the gazebo with his coffee warming his hands, Bailey took in the sight and then took a deep breath. Hearing all the background noises of kids playing in the snow, dogs barking and the bustling of the wind, Bailey held on tight to his coffee to warm his hands and then looked up “I always forget how beautiful it is here when it snows. I mean, it’s freezing because it’s Maine.., but its beautiful.” 

┅

Today was one of Ethan's days off, and he'd decided to still get up fairly early and go for a run outside. He knew it'd be cold and slightly dangerous, given the icy roads post-snowstorm, but he set off anyway, always up for an adventure. It was as freezing and as slippery as he expected, and by the time he'd reached Fletcher Park, he was out of breath. He decided to head for the gazebo, pacing around, hands on his hips, as he cooled down. 

He was startled when a man sitting on one of the benches next to him spoke up. He'd been so keen on catching his breath that he hadn't realized he wasn't alone. "Oh yeah, definitely." Ethan replied, as he gazed at their surroundings. "I've lived in Boston and New York before and they're also gorgeous in the winter, but Maine definitely feels different." He paused for a moment, thinking. "It's probably the quaint, small-town vibes, the lack of cars. I know Somerton's not exactly the wilderness, but there's still a streak of wild to the town that you wouldn't be able to find in most big cities today."  

Lowell didn’t know Kate’s overall preferences, but either way she definitely got a show of fitness when it came to the calendar. All in good fun, though, and for a good cause. They usually ended up with a nice donation for Memorial and the local food bank, and Lowell’s mom got another photo to put in her scrapbook.

“Yeah, sometimes it’s Christmas trees. People not doing the fresh water thing or like overloading light strands or using strands with exposed wires and stuff.” Because sometimes all it took was one little spark and a whole house could go up. “And then sometimes it’s open flames. Fireplaces, candles. Space heaters.”

Lowell’s eyes rounded a bit at Ethan’s admission the flowers were for his mom, but then he smiled because, yeah, for Lowell his mom was someone special. And really this served as a reminder that he needed to do some shopping for his family. He was well beyond the age where homemade coupon books were acceptable. “That’s really nice of you. Thinking about her and sending flowers to show it. Those ones are seasonal, right?” Lowell asked, but sort of suggested, as he pointed to a row of red and white poinsettias.

┅

"Gotcha," Ethan replied, before stitching his brows together, deep in thought. "You know, considering how many things could go wrong at any given point, it's a miracle we've survived as a species for so long." He shrugged. "It's also pretty cool that we thought, 'hey, bad things like fires happen to people sometimes, so we should create an organization that specifically deals with those situations.'"  

Ethan blinked once, pulling himself from his philosophical musings. "Yeah, I mean it's the least I can do. I totally crushed my parents' dreams for me when I moved up here, despite, you know, me being a full-blown adult and all that." He shrugged slightly, not wanting to burden Lowell with his own problems. "Anyway." His eyes followed where Lowell was pointing. "You think I should get those?" He asked, as he turned back to his friend. "I'm horrible with colors and flowers and all that so I could really use a second opinion here."

“Who cares what everyone else would like when I get to be carried around on a chair? Or I could just get a hot man to carry me everywhere. I could just travel by piggyback everywhere, although it might be a slow way to go.” James snorted again, the grin on his lips still mischievous. “It was worth a try, was it not?” He stretched out his arms and ran his fingers through his curls, then gave Ethan an easy smile. “James. Jamie. That clumsy git you saw trip over his own shoelaces. Whatever you want to call me, I’ll accept it. Just don’t be too mean because I’m a crier.”