( on principle—she has fewer of those than some people, not none—gwenaëlle is not entertaining for even a moment remaining in the cabin that she'd woken up in, disoriented and shaking off dreams-that-weren't-dreams. she can still smell smoke, can't quite tell if it's psychosomatic or not, and even if she never sets foot in the room she woke on the floor of ever again the ceiling and the smell of it will linger in her memory, so

so she leaves. pamphlet in hand, dressed for the filthy-hot summer that had been about to ripen into something much worse, a cigarette between her teeth and her stylishly overpriced backpack slung over one shoulder (containing, not that she's looked to know yet, her new smartphone with its unflattering temporary username daddyissues). this isn't the first time that she's been dumped out in the middle of unfamiliar no where with no place else to go and nothing to do but to make the best of it, and the chances of being hit in the face with the oppressive scent of decay when opening a strange cabin is at least fifty percent lower than it was in derry. eliot was in derry, and another eliot was in at least one of her dreams; optimistically, she is sort of still looking for her brother, but mostly she's looking for...anything. something. a place to stop in.

five foot three of purposeful striding is happening between cabins, but maybe there's someone already in the one she opens next. who knows. )

( her tiny highness will be investigating around the cabins, the lake, and the woods; please feel free to find her any of these places if you have a better idea for a starter, or hmu @ lilpantsunicorn#8828 to hash something out. )