Welcome to Blanchepierre - Part 3

This one's a bit later than I thought it would be, sorry about that. I was going over it last night before posting it and realized that it kinda sucked, so I took some extra time to make it not suck.

-~o~-

The idea of looking for jobs really didn't appeal. She'd never really had to do it before now, and she wasn't sure where to start. She'd have to make a CV, probably? Or a résumé. That was what they called them here, right? And she didn't really have the type of work experience that would get her... Any sort of mundane job, really.

It was going to be hard, and that was the perfect reason to put it off. She still had to settle in a bit, get her feet wet. She would figure out something out for rent later. For now, meeting people seemed like the best idea. Having connections would make anything she had to do here easier, she knew that from experience.

Welcome to Blanchepierre - Part 2

Check out the last entry for the winners of the previous poll! Or just read on and find out in the context of the story. You can do it either way, I'm not gonna tell you how to live your life.

-~o~-

She observed herself in the mirror and ran her hands through her short, red hair. She'd always wanted to grow it out, but long hair was a bit of a liability in her line of work. Or rather, her former line of work. Ah, well. Maybe this was an opportunity to finally Rapunzel it up. Getting to grow her hair out in exchange for moving to the other side of the world and starting an entirely new life for herself wasn't something she would have chosen, if the choice had been hers to make, but that was the hand that life had dealt her, so now she just had to work with it. She couldn't help but notice that her tummy was getting a bit softer, too. After several weeks without exercise, her once well-defined abs had faded a bit. She would have to find a gym out here and get back into it. Or, maybe pick up some exercise equipment.

Welcome to Blanchepierre - A Sexy CYOA!

Corn. Wheat. Corn. Wheat. Cows. Corn. Corn. Wheat.

Heathrow had been packed. A confusing, crowded mess. O'Hare had been much the same, a sensory overload of loud people and bright lights. And then the Kansas City airport had been such a tiny, quiet little thing: a little C-shaped terminal with hardly anyone in it. And now she was driving. Driving through vast, flat fields full of nothing but corn and wheat and cows.

She nearly fell asleep. More than twenty hours of air travel had left her exhausted, but crashing in a hotel for a night in Kansas City, unfortunately, wasn't an option. She had to keep moving until she reached her destination. After a while the sun set behind her, and she was driving through a sea of darkness, broken only by her rental car's headlights and the occasional gas station on the side of the road.

She could swear that she saw things in the dark. It was entirely possible that some of them were real. Missouri was a low-activity state - one of the lowest in the world, in fact - but no place was completely safe for her nowadays. Even here, there were threats.

But they were small threats. Nothing that she couldn't handle. That was why she was here, after all. It was a haven. And a prison. She couldn't imagine how bored she was going to be.

After about an hour and a half of driving, she spotted lights in the distance. A city. Or, rather, a town. It was too small to properly be called a city. It would, she realized, be the smallest place that she had ever lived.

Her GPS guided her to an out-of-the-way street on the edge of town. The key to her apartment had already been provided to her - she had it in an envelope in her luggage, heaped in the back seat of the car. She dragged it all up the stairs in one go, and opened the door.

The place was clean, at least. She checked the tiny kitchenette and found that the fridge worked, as did the sink. Power and water were already turned on, then. There was also a microwave, but other than that, the place was entirely empty. She sighed and laid down right there on the floor in the middle of the living room, using her softest bag (the one that had all of her clothes in it) as a pillow. Exhaustion took her. It didn't matter that it was terribly uncomfortable, or that her new neighbors were having incredibly noisy sex next door. She drifted off into dreams of busy airports and deep forests...

---

...And awoke to a very sore neck. Sunlight was filtering in through the windows by the front door. She sat up and tried to rub some of the soreness out while she looked at her phone. Noon. She had been asleep for a solid twelve hours. Still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she went to the bathroom to take a shower...

And realized that she had no soap and no shampoo. She took a soak under the hot water anyway, and when she emerged, she realized that she didn't have a towel. She went over to the sink, dripping wet. No toothbrush or toothpaste either.

But she did have a debit card and a bank account with $1000 USD in it. It wasn't much, to start a completely new life with, but it was something. She pulled her hair out of her eyes and looked at herself in the mirror.