@bullbrain
people don’t know what they’re talking about when they call a certain part of town the bad side of town, the shitty side of town. all bad things that have happened to jeyne happened on the good side of town, where good people live. good people like petyr baelish and ramsay bolton. for jeyne, this side of town is just what it us, another side of town, further from home ( to be fair, home was her father and sansa and all that is gone -- every place is far from home ).
she’s low on cash ( not enough to buy breakfast ) and colder days are yet to come, which drag with them more homeless into the shelter. she’s young and despite being frail, there’s people who need it more than she does. a string of whispers leads jeyne into the shitty part of town -- according to several people, that’s where they don’t ask for documents, they just ask for workers.
thin, pale ( almost frozen -- fucking fingerless gloves ) grasp onto the straps of an old backpack where she carries all of her prized possessions -- the swiss army knife she stole from ramsay, a few second-hand or third-hand clothes she got at the shelter and a few snacks she’s been saving. short but sure steps lead her across the poorly paved streets. none of the places appears to be trustworthy or even legal, but she doesn’t care about that.
jeyne hesitates before even considering approaching any of the places -- she’s a highschool graduate with no skill other than running away. but she can always clean and cook half decently. and anything else she can learn. as a bout of courage floods her, the brunette decides to step into a garage, walking towards a young man working on a car. “hey.” the greeting feels awkward. “i’m -- i’m looking for a job.” it’s surely more difficult when you have to go alone, she thinks. all her previous odd jobs had come with some sort of reference from someone else. “the kind of job social security doesn’t know about.” she’s not worried about social security, but it’s easier to say that she is.
