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Author Topic: For Every End, there is a Beginning... [Silkenrose]  (Read 1212 times)

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Offline AcheronTopic starter

For Every End, there is a Beginning... [Silkenrose]
« on: January 06, 2012, 11:18:27 AM »
OOC: Heya Silk! I've started us off with a really simple description of the setting here, into which you can drop your character in without worrying too much about where, when, who and all that other stuff. Of course, seeing as it's your character, feel free to come up with a backstory for your Eastportian, who they are, what they like etc. You have a house on Harris Point, and a private beach to call your own - which, coincidentally, you'll find my character - but aside from that, it's completely up to you! ^_^ Write away, as much or as little as you wish, and we'll work from there!

The easternmost city in the United States of America was surprisingly underwhelming to newcomers, which suited the locals fine. Eastport was a small fishing township with barely fifteen-hundred residents, on the border between Maine and New Brunswick. In fact, one could walk down the old boardwalk and out onto the town's ramshackled jetty and stare out across the bay to Deer Island, which was Canadian Soil.

The people of Eastport were quiet, modest folk. Tourism had started to filter into what was once a quiet town, and the gaudy shopfronts recently erected stood out starkly against the modest local grocers, or fancy new hotels staring balefully down on the five-am fish markets, as though affronted at the noise at such ungodly hours of the morning.

It was undeniably a good thing for Eastport's economy that tourists had begun to take an interest in their town, but the locals still couldn't quite shake the niggling feeling that they were being looked down upon, by the trophy wives and golf-enthusiast husbands, by the octogenarian sightseeing tours and the parades of families with screaming children. Admittedly, the novelty of being as far east as a US citizen could go and remain on home soil might have contributed to their popularity, but it was Old Sow that drew most of the tourists, like a captured bear in a zoo.

Old Sow was the second largest whirlpool in the world, and the largest in the western hemisphere. The name supposedly came from the sow-like screech that eminated from its house-sized maw as the tide flowed out of the bay. Local fishermen with experience in navigating Old Sow's waters would take tourists up close to the 250-foot wide 'danger zone' to watch the numerous waves, spouts eddies and occasional 'maw' in motorboats. Sail and human-power was suicidal when dealing with Old Sow.

For the inhabitants of Harris Point, the small suburb to the north of the city - which managed to stay clear of the tourist invasion - the sheltered Harris Cove was thankfully devoid of any of the trophy wives, screaming children or barking dogs that the township had to deal with.
Gently lapping waters, shady trees and expanses of grass leading down to crystal white sands encapsulated several hundred yards of paradise for the locals, with numerous tiny beachheads tucked away from prying eyes, usually with a house overlooking it as though to reserve the beach for the family who dwelt within. It was a simple life, but a good one.

Offline Silkenrose

Re: For Every End, there is a Beginning... [Silkenrose]
« Reply #1 on: January 06, 2012, 04:13:49 PM »
Anne hadn't been here in years. She must have been 15 the last time she visited her nana and papa at their large home on Harris Point. As a child the home had seemed to go on forever and even as an adult it was still impressive with its 5 bedrooms and 6.5 baths. It was typical clapboard siding done in gray with black shutters on the windows. The home had been built in 1900 and over the years her family, the Harris family for whom the Point was named, had added as the family had grown. What had begun as a large Cape Cod style home was now a picturesque rambler with large dormers on many areas of the roof. Although the home looked like a two-story home, Anne knew a cozy yet roomy third floor was nestled under the roof just inside the dormer windows.

It made her sad to think it took the sudden death of both her grandparents to return, but the truth was that at 29, she was forging her own way and she had settled in the Monterrey, California region of the country. The shores were completely different, but both extraordinary in their beauty. She had let the lease go on her home in Monterrey when she got the word that the house on Harris Point was now hers. Yes, she was established in Monterrey, but she could continue to work from Harris Point through her web-based business dealing art. This move would give her pictures, photography mostly, a new twist. She liked that idea. She also liked the idea of being in the presence of so many warm and enjoyable family memories. Her own parents had died when she was 20 and a junior in college. An only child,she had put off her senior year to come home and take care of the estate. Her grandparents had helped her put most of the funds in a trust that would mature for her use when she turned 35, so money wasn't a problem for her. The pain of the loss of her parents drove her to. . .she didn't know. It just drove her. What ever she thought to do she did it to the fullest extent. When she went back to school she picked up a double major in business to go along with her art degree, when she looked for a place to open her art gallery she researched for over six months to see what area would be the best for picture likability which lead her to Monterey. It had been a tossup between Monterey and Carmel, but the literary history of Monterey intrigued her, so Monterey it had been.

Now, here she was at another juncture. She was an all or nothing kind of girl, so the return to Harris Point was going to be a success. There wasn't any other way for it to play out. She had gotten local contractors to do any and all repairs to the home that were needed including updates inside as well as painting the whole house, inside and out. She had gone to the Chamber of Commerce to check on the possibility of using the house as a Bed and Breakfast. Jed Harris, a distant cousin, had helped her get in touch with the right people to make that happen, and now, The Harris Point Inn was ready for business. Anne would enjoy having the big home to herself most of the time, but the website advertising the home as a place to stay while visiting the region already had 16 weekends available and there had been some traffic to the site, so she was hopeful.

She hadn't meant to be up this early, but once the rays of sunlight began to come in the window she knew sleep wouldn't return, so she got dressed, slipped into her old docksiders and headed out to the beach. Anne loved the early mornings out here. It didn't matter what the weather was like, she loved it all. She was surprised that some of her best pictures had been storms and rain. Her favorites always held streaks of lightening, but she actually had more response from customers for the torrents of rain that appeared to come down in sheets. Neither of those looked anything like the morning she was enjoying today. She could tell it was going to be a clear day, and the forcast was for a warm sixty-eight degrees.

Anne had always been in the habit of looking down at her feet as she walked the beach, probably to find rare shells or stones, and the occasional crab. The stick she carried helped her keep her balance as well as served as a digging tool. The sound of her walking had a rhythm of its own with two even-paced steps and a sucking and setting sound of the stick being lifted then reset in the sand. She was lost in that rhythm when she happened to look up at the water. Probably about 200 yards in front of her someone was at the water's edge walking toward her. That was strange. She didn't remember ever seeing anyone on the beach this time of day since she moved back. . .

Offline AcheronTopic starter

Re: For Every End, there is a Beginning... [Silkenrose]
« Reply #2 on: January 06, 2012, 09:38:07 PM »
From this distance, features were difficult to make out. It was definitely a man, lean and with hair that shone stark white as it caught the dawn sunlight. Something else caught the light for a moment as well, shimmering and visible only by the way it interacted with the beams of dawn sunlight. But it must have been a mirage, as the sand shimmered around him momentarily, like a heatwave, as he began to walk down the beach in her direction. As he drew closer, it seemed that her original impression was inaccurate. While not exactly albino white, his hair was more of a sandy blonde, he looked to have just got out of the water. A pair of baggy jeans had been cut, no, torn off just above the knees to make a makeshift pair of shorts. Drenched a dark blue from the sea water, the fabric stood out against the tanned skin and blonde chest hair. Bare feet crunched in the sand, while his hands were busy ruffling his hair dry, sending sparkling droplets of water flying in all direction. This was probably where the shimmering had come from earlier.

"Anne! Anne Harris!" came a voice, heavy with an Irish brogue.
Oh, and he had a face that wouldn't look out of place in a Most Eligible Bachelor shortlist.
"What brings ye back to this godforsaken corner of the world?" he asked cheerily, blue eyes sparkling with mirth as though he was constantly on the verge of breaking out into laughter. There was something familiar about those eyes, a forgotten memory from long ago.
"Ah, but o'course ye wouldn't be rememberin' me, how many years has it been since I last saw ye? Fourteen? Twenty-one? Ye parents were sendin' ye off to school with a pink lunchbox..." he mused, pearly teeth gleaming as he grinned, holding out a hand to shake.
"Call me Robin, Robin Goodfellow. I knew ye parents" he said, before giving her a once-over with his eyes.
"And I must say, you've grown into quite the looker" he pointed out, his tone part surprise, part approval. The strange thing was that he looked barely older than she did, despite his seemingly impressive memory.

Offline Silkenrose

Re: For Every End, there is a Beginning... [Silkenrose]
« Reply #3 on: January 08, 2012, 02:40:38 PM »
His voice was strong and shrunk the distance between them, but she was glad for the distance. She knew him. . . those eyes. . . it was a childhood memeory. . . hmmm. . . oh, yes! At the time Anne had called him uncle, even though there was no family connection. Watching him walk toward her, she was glad for that lack of relation. But who was he, this "Uncle" Robin? In a few moments they would be close enough to each other that the wave she had given would have to be followed with words, and it sure would be nice to have some sort of recollection as to who he was. . . how her father had known him. . . wait, maybe that was what was blocking her memory. . . Robin had been a friend of her mother's. That's right, Robin had been four years behind her mom, actually the little brother of her close friend, Karyn.

It's a funny thing about memory. . . once one little piece comes back it was like an open door for more. . . Robin had been a pesky younger brother. . . well, that's what girls think about boys sometimes, true or not. Anne was beginning to think that perspective was everything. . . how could her young mother have ever seen this man before her as a pest? The distance was closing now. . . it was up to her to set the tone for the future. . .

"Uncle Robin!" she said as she walked into his arms. The hug was warm, secure, and innocent. It had been such a long time since she had been hugged since her parents and grandparents were gone. . . she missed that feeling. "It has been a long time! How are you?"

Offline AcheronTopic starter

Re: For Every End, there is a Beginning... [Silkenrose]
« Reply #4 on: January 08, 2012, 08:58:31 PM »
As she pulled the man into a hug, she felt his body stiffen somewhat. His hands lightly patted her back, as though he was unsure, or uncomfortable with the gesture. After a brief moment, he stepped back and smoothed down his white t-shirt which was definitely there all along.
"I don't remember ye bein' quite so affectionate, Miss Harris" he pointed out with a grin, hands thrust into his pockets.
"If'n I be remembering proper, ye'd scream when one o' the local boys tried to hold ye hand..."

Despite remembering Robin clearly, after all, it was Robin, her childhood friend, she couldn't for the life of her remember a single detail about what he was like around other people. It was as if time spent with him was a seperate world to that of the schoolyard or on the beach with friends. She could remember scant events, such as her mother catching Robin drinking an entire bottle of milk from the fridge. But it seemed that her memory seemed to dim after so many years apart. Still, she knew she could trust him, with those mesmerising blue eyes staring into hers.

Oh, wait, they were staring this whole time? Robin blinked, and the spell was broken. He gave a hearty laugh, reached up and gently tugged a stray strand of hair that had fallen beside her face, just like she remembered him doing as a kid.
"Ye alright there, Anne? Zoned out for a moment" he said. Before she had a chance to react, he'd spun on his heel and started walking back the way he came, gesturing for her to follow.
"C'mon, we'll walk and talk" he called over his shoulder, "tell me what's being happening with you for the last few years. What brings ye back here?"

Offline Silkenrose

Re: For Every End, there is a Beginning... [Silkenrose]
« Reply #5 on: January 14, 2012, 06:28:05 PM »
The hug was nice, even if it was brief and stiff. Anne chuckled to herself as they parted and Robin spoke. Things were coming back slowly to her, and one of the memories was the habit Robin had of putting his own feelings on others when he got uncomfortable. He didn't do it all of the time, but it was a quirk he had. She smiled at him while she listened to him. . .
"I've always been a hugger, Uncle Robin. You are probably thinking about the summer I broke up with my boyfriend two weeks into the break. . . I was upset with the whole male species that summer!" She laughed deeply at the memory, happy to share her past with someone who had been there.

The wisp of hair that blew across her face was easy to ignore as she looked into Robin's face and drank in the details that up to a moment ago had only been a memory. Those eyes. . . they were deep and penetrating. He suddenly reached up and moved the stray strand from her face, giving it a gentle tug. Another memory brought back to life. This was a good moment.

She didn't realize she was staring until he spoke again. What had he said? Before she could think and process, he had turned and begun to walk back in the direction he had come. With an invitation to join him, Anne took a couple of jogging strides and fell into step with him. Where should she begin to answer his question?

She decided to begin with her choice of colleges, the untimely death of her parents when they were on their way to visit her at school, and then the death of her grandparents, the relocation of her business, and the move here to Eastport. There wasn't any need to go into great detail, just the important parts that had impacted her life choices and led her here. If they kept in touch, which she hoped they did, there would be time in the future for sharing details. Beside, there was so much she wanted to know about him. Anne wasn't sure if it was the sun that was warming her, or the thought of Robin. She wasn't a little girl anymore. She was a grown woman, and she had a different appreciation for Robin today than she had when she was younger.

"That's what's gone on with me over the past decade or so in a nutshell. What about you? Tell me about you."