Trip and Fall [Open!]
Apr 22, 2012 14:30:16 GMT -5
Post by rapunzel on Apr 22, 2012 14:30:16 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 450px, bTable][atrb=style, text-align: left] |
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: url(http://i1191.photobucket.com/albums/z474/DanyDaiquiri/rapunzeltexture.png); width: 450px; padding: 20px; margin-top: -30px; border-radius: 20px; -moz-border-radius: 20px, bTable][atrb=style, color: 1d1921; padding: 10px; background: #fde8f9; opacity: 0.4; font-family: Tahoma; word-spacing: 1px; border-radius: 20px; -moz-border-radius: 20px; border: 1px dashed #a291b2] ○ ○ ○ Rapunzel, golden hair piled high in her arms, padded down the cobblestone streets. It seemed as though she had been walking for hours, and yet she had not drawn to a pause even once in all that time. She was looking for something-nothing in particular, really, but more a feeling...something undeniable, and instinctive. As she went along, Rapunzel withdrew a pink slip from a pocket hidden within her skirts. It was marked in picture-perfect cursive with the words: Due by Ninth February: made payable to The Boardwalk Inn-$2,450. Although she had practically ingrained the writing in her memory by now, she could not help but frown at it. Nearly three thousand dollars! Until she'd arrived in Disney, she hadn't even known what a dollar was (and to that point, she still wasn't entirely sure). Corona was party to a simple barter economy, and the concept of currency was a confusing one as far as Rapunzel was concerned. At this point, though, she couldn't concern herself with such complexities; all she knew was that if she didn't get as much of the green stuff as she could manage, she would be out on the streets. The very idea set her thoughts on edge, had hysteria buzzing at the fringes of her mind. "Alright she comforted herself, breathing deeply, meditatively, "Okay, you can do this. You just need to find somewhere..." Without warning, her words trailed away, and Rapunzel came to an abrupt stop, gazing at the building before her with warmth in her wide eyes. It was a beautiful structure, apricot-colored and bold in its way, accented with a mint green that brought to mind expanses of brightly colored meadows that stretched on for miles and miles. It was dignified-elegant, definitely-but with an excitement to it that made Rapunzel want to burst through the lacquered front doors. A sign overhead read: 'Les Chefs de France'. "It's perfect!" she declared immediately, practically bouncing on the balls of her bare feet as she bounded over the threshold. "Table for one, miss?" So unused to being addressed as such was Rapunzel that she glanced twice over her shoulder before realizing they were speaking to her. "Oh-" she managed, faltering now, "No-I was actually...looking for a job?" Nervous now that the time had come, Rapunzel chewed at a strip of golden hair. "Unless-there's...nothing open? I should-go-" "We have a position open." the woman replied in the same, toneless voice. "Do you have any experience?" Rapunzel blinked. "Well...yeah, I guess? I can bake cookies really well-also bread. I paint pretty nicely-well, mother always told me I did anyway, and I'm good with a guitar-" "Experience in waiting tables" the employee amended, seeming significantly annoyed. Rapunzel flushed. "...oh. Yeah..sure I do?" The woman seemed unconvinced, but Rapunzel supposed she didn't much care either way for after a moment's silent appraisal, she handed over an apron and a little book. Rapunzel had cooked once or twice before, and she knew well enough to slip on the scrap of fabric and knot it at the back. The pad and pencil, however, she eyed with a wrinkled nose. "What do I do with this?" she asked, curious. The woman sighed, clearly operating under the opinion that Rapunzel was extremely stupid. "It's for taking down orders." she said, enunciating each word with a slowness bordering on mocking. "Think you could manage, Blondie? Cause if you can't-" Blondie-the nickname sent images of Eugene tumbling forward, as though someone had dislodged a rock from a stream and unleashed raging tides. "Oh, yeah-" she promised, folding her arms across her chest with a sly smile, her confidence restored, "I can definitely handle this." For a moment, standing there with her pad and pencil, decked out in her new apron, Rapunzel seemed the epitome of professionalism. Then, turning smoothly on her heel to begin, she tripped right over her piles and piles of hair and sprawled eagle on the ground. ○ tag; Open to anyone! ○ comments; Attempting to revive an old open thread that never got any love Rapunzel is going to make a |