Curate, connect, and discover
Ophelia's lips lifted into an understanding smile. There was a familiar look in the girl's eyes -- one that she would recognize from a million miles away. That quiet kind of ache that came from longing for something you used to love. She remembered when she'd first arrived in Palmview and how she's been unable to even look at her guitar for months. "Don't worry about it," she said gently, waving off the apology. "Yeah, I sing. Write too. Mostly sad girl stuff," she added with a laugh. "And trust me, I get it. Moving can throw everything off. I was the same when I first moved here." Lia paused for a beat, tilting her head as she studied the girl. "But you're still writing. That's good! Sometimes just showing up to the page is enough." She bit her lip, hesitating before deciding to add, “What kind of music do you write?”
blair hadn't really done much singing in sometime now. she'd kind of forgotten about it. moving here in the first place had been keeping her busy enough as well as her job, trying to get used to things around here and managing some other tasks. it had seemed like she almost barely had the time in her schedule to do any of this. the blonde glanced down at the guitar ... a simple reminder of her past and what it probably would've been like if she got back into it and started it up again. " sorry... didn't mean to stare. " not realizing that she had been daydreaming for a second before looking up at the other. " you're a singer? " she automatically assumed from seeing the guitar. " i was one for a little while.. or should i say starting to be one. kind of stopped for a bit when i moved here not long ago. i have been writing a bit but nothing that i feel good about putting out yet. " she just realized that she had been rambling to someone she hadn't even met until now. " and i'm rambling ─ sorry it's become a bit of a habit of mine. "
Lia's boots scuffed against the boardwalk, wind undoing what little effort she'd put into her bun. She caught sight of Dax with that ever-present smirk and couldn't help the eye roll that came with it. "Well, well, well," she said, stopping in front of him, "if it isn't the human embodiment of a moody mixtape." The dark haired girl sank down on the bench beside him, one leg tucked underneath her and smirked at him. "Trouble's such a dramatic word, y'know? I prefer to think of it as light chaos," she shrugged. "Simple things like oversharing with a barista and spending 80 bucks on vintage strings that I absolutely didn't need." Lia tilted her head toward him, giving him a once-over. "What about you? Deeply judging tourists to pass the time, again?"
location : sunset villa beach. status : open . ( @palmviewstarters )
he leaned back against the peeling wooden bench, the salty breeze of palmview ruffling his hair as he glanced around the bustling boardwalk. his tattooed fingers idly drummed against the edge of the bench, rhythm in sync with the distant crash of waves. the sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the surf shops and beachside vendors, their neon signs flickering to life as dusk settled in. he pulled a blunt from his pocket, tapping it thoughtfully against his palm before lighting it up, the tip flaring bright in the growing twilight. inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes, letting the familiar burn settle in his chest. he hadn’t relaxed in a minute — time had a funny way of slipping past in this town, days bleeding into each other with the rhythm of tides.
he exhaled, smoke curling up toward the sky as footsteps approached, scattering seagulls nearby. he cracked one eye open, a smirk curling his lips. " well, look what the tide dragged in. " he drawled, flicking ash to the pavement. his gaze lingered, curiosity sparking in his eyes as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. " so, what kinda trouble you get yourself into today? "
Ophelia had been browsing the stacks near the music section, scanning the titles when she heard the quiet chaos unfold behind the counter and gave an empathetic wince. "Yikes, you good?" she asked, taking a cautious step forward and then pausing again. A flicker of amusement passed over her face as she noticed the inky smudge on their forehead. "Um. You've got a little..." Lia gestured vaguely between her brows and offered a playful a smile. "It's kind of a look, actually." At their prompting, Lia nodded her head towards the section she had just vacated. "I was actually hoping to find something new for guitar--maybe jazz standards or fingerstyle stuff?" Ophelia had been playing guitar since she was thirteen and her father managed to thrift her first acoustic for her birthday. Since then, she'd made it her personal mission to never stop learning or honing her skills. The internet was great, but sometimes, a book is what really did the trick.
「 ✱ 」 STATUS ﹕ open . 「 ✱ 」 LOCATION ﹕ the book nook . 「 ✱ 」 WITH ﹕ jasper & open ( @palmviewstarters )
it was a quiet day at the bookstore, with only the sighs of worn pages to keep jasper company, and so he softly hummed to himself as he sorted through the new arrivals. romance, mythological retellings, dusty vintage classics. piles towered over the timid boy that cast wobbling shadows over his features. the shuffle of company brought him from his trance. an elbow nudged the leaning tower of thrillers, and in a moment jasper’s arms were filled with cascading novellas threatening to spill. “hey ! sorry, one second … ” paperbacks were shrugged onto the counter with a limp plop. breathless, they attempted to fix a strand of unruly brunette which promptly pinged back into its clumsy position. the ends of their fingers were inky from refilling the receipt printer and they smeared a long black mark across their forehead. “are you looking for something particular today ? we have the right book for everybody.”
⇢ 🎸 STATUS ﹕ open. ( 1/6 ) ⇢ 🎸 TAGGING ﹕ophelia + utp !! ( @palmviewstarters ) ⇢ 🎸 LOCATION ﹕ mango bay art district.
Ophelia sat on a folding stool across the street from the Arts District gallery. Her guitar case lay open at her feed, half-filled with crumpled bills and loose change. Her voice curled into the air of the late afternoon, low and a bit rough – like she'd just woken up. Her vintage acoustic was resting against one knee as her fingers danced over the strings. Her eyes absent-mindedly scanned the passerby crowd, and her playing as she noticed someone watching. Ophelia stilled her strings and smirked, “Careful,” she began, a teasing lilt to her tone. “If you stare too long, I'm going to assume you're planning to request something.”