Words: 282

tom

It had become obvious. Braylar could no longer deny the facts. Her rumbling stomach had made it clear what was needed if she was to continue surviving on this magical island full of the supernatural.

She needed a job.

There were those that were fooled by her glamoured money. Most saw through her pile of leaves right away, though. Usually, the ones she needed to dupe the most. Braylar was simply not as strong as most fae and couldn't create the elaborate glamour those of the higher caste could. She had made due so far, but now she was desperate. Days prior she had managed to trick some poor sap into taking a swim with her, but she needed food more often than that.

And so the kelpie needed a more reliable and licit source of flesh. The occasional scrounged fruit and scrap kept her satisfied for a bit, but she couldn't survive. It was like trying to keep a cat alive on a strict diet of vegetables.

The only problem was that she didn't know where to start. Braylar had never job hunted before, so the only thing she could think to do was walk into every single building she found and just ask. That had yielded zero results so far, but if Braylar was one thing it was tenacious. As the night wore on, she found herself at something a little more familiar to her: a brothel. Those had been around since the dawn of time, it seemed, and she felt more confidence than she deserved as he entered.

She made a bee-line for the first person she thought was an employee and blurted out, "I am looking for work!"

NOTES: :| Straight to the point.

Words: 293

Klaus

Wandering the streets of the city had left her feeling squeamish and light-headed, but she powered through it. Braylar was left to wait while the waitress fetched her manager or something to that effect. She tapped her foot impatiently while she waited, looking around while she was at it.

The place was busy. People ate, played, spoke to one another (or shouted). Women of the night led their callers to and from private rooms. Humans and others alike stalked the interior. Someone smelling of smoke walked by and Braylar turned gagging into a cough.

Her glamour allowed a small barrier between her and the poisons of the world, but she was going to have to get used to it.

Finally, Braylar was approached by a man—nay, no mere man but a demon she realized the closer she looked at him—claiming to be an owner of the establishment. She greeted him with an impatient nod and told him her name was Braylar as he led her to a quiet, relatively speaking, booth.

Braylar sat across from him at his prompting, glancing over her shoulder when someone nearly slipped in the puddle of water she'd left where she'd been standing moments ago.

"Pleasure?" she echoed, scrunching her nose at the idea. Her skin crawled at the very thought of something other than a fellow kelpie touching her with their grubby hands.

"I hadn't thought about it, really," she sighed. Her eye was drawn to an employee with a tray of beverages across the floor. "That there is a waiter, correct? I could maybe do that. I am a kelpie, so if you wanted me on security I would be good at dragging ne'er-do-wells off premises. Not many can escape my adhesion, you know."

NOTES: :| Straight to the point.