#l;p

Seated beside a fountain as she labored over the necessary evil that was filling out job applications, her hand carefully scribbled in what little information she could. The biggest issue, of course, was her lack of a social security number or an alien registration number. The irony of the term wasn’t lost on the princess who, having had her phone disconnected some months prior, had to swallow her pride and ask a passerby what it meant. A feverish blush later and she now knew it referred to foreigners, just not her kind of foreigner. Evidently, she was too alien. Tucking a lock of her dark-haired wig behind her ear in response to a persistent breeze constantly tugging tendrils with it, she looked the current sheet over while nibbling at an increasingly irritated bottom lip.

Although the formats varied, they all asked for roughly the same things and each time she left them blank and moved onto the next one. It was rapidly becoming clear that perhaps the conventional route to employment wasn’t going to cut it. But what would she do then? This world was too hard. Distracted by a sudden gust and thinking her papers were safely tucked under her thigh, she took her hands off them for just a moment to tame borrowed locks. That was all it took, however. The wind pushed the papers free and at least a dozen applications went scattering throughout the immediate area to Lusine’s utter dismay.

@AnnaShinoda: