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welcome_to_buckarooCaroline's tired. She's due to move again. She doesn't even like it here anyway, but she's tired of moving. Even though she has plenty of reason to keep on the move like some kind of paranoid migratory animal, she's just... tired. She's lived so many places since she left home. Maybe... maybe she could actually pick somewhere and stay for once. That would be nice.
She doesn't want to go back anywhere she's already been. For her own piece of mind, sure, but also because most of the places she's already been kind of suck. Been there, lived in that shitty neighborhood already. (Sometimes the bridges are a little crispy around the edges too, but never mind that.) So that rules out uh... a lot of places. But mostly the east coast. That's fine, there are other directions. She ends up picking northwest partly because it's kind of the opposite of where she's been, but also the climate's nice. She likes rain. And she shouldn't stick out too badly. She doesn't have any particular attachment to where specifically she ends up, but she has better luck finding things in Oregon than Washington. Sure.
As she winds her way west on what's hopefully the last of her roadtripping for a good long while, she spends her evenings in hotels looking at places to live. Caroline's quietly hoping she can find something nicer than she usually manages, since she's planning to stay. It'd be nice not to have stairs in her bathroom or mirrors on the ceiling or anything.
One of those evenings, she forgets to check or uncheck some setting and ends up on a listing for a really cute house. It's got a nice spooky farmhouse vibe going for it-- right up her alley. And then she realizes it's for sale not a rental. Fucking hell. She's just scrolling back up to glare one last time before closing the tab when she sees the estimated monthly payment. Damn. No wonder she hadn't realized it wasn't a rental. It's fucking cheap. Maybe she'll just... find out what the hell's wrong with it. Just to see.
The... realtor? agent? she emails is super eager to please. Caroline gets a bunch more pictures than the listing has and a webcam tour scheduled for a couple days later. That turns out to be really useful and more than a little hilarious. She sends the poor woman all over the house opening cabinets and leaning on doors and knocking on walls and everything else she can think of. The realtor's really cheerful about the whole thing though, so Caroline doesn't feel too bad. As far as she can tell, there's nothing wrong with the house at all. So she gives in and asks.
The catch is the really cute house is in Buckaroo. The realtor takes Caroline's silence for an awkward pause and launches into a spiel about the many virtues of the little town and how it's totally not like people think. Mostly Caroline needs a moment to place why the name's familiar. That's right, the serial killer town. Yeah, that'll do it. She can practically hear the poor woman wringing her hands over the phone when Caroline tells her she's going to need to do some research.
She's not as put off by her cute spooky farmhouse being in Buckaroo as she knows she should be. (And since when is it "her" house?) But hell, Caroline's lived in all kinds of shady places before. She's from one. So... it might not be a deal breaker. It really depends on what she can find out. And what she finds is actually pretty encouraging. For being such a producer of serial killers, Buckaroo has very little violent crime. Pretty much no murder. Apparently all the Buckaroo Butchers go out into the world to do their killing. And there's not much assault or other violence either. Even accounting for how underreported those kinds of crimes tend to be, and it being a small town. It's... pretty chill there? Huh.
The realtor eagerly confirms all that when Caroline gets back in touch. And then goes ahead and admits to the other, more specific reason the house is so hard to sell. It's the next house over from the old Warren farm. Meaning Caroline would be living next to the Nailbiter's childhood home. Caroline has to put her hand over her phone so she can snort at that. Yeah. Sure.
So... barring anything really unfortunate when she gets there, Caroline is going to... own a home? How fucking weird. Caroline Lichfield, homeowner. Wow.
She doesn't want to go back anywhere she's already been. For her own piece of mind, sure, but also because most of the places she's already been kind of suck. Been there, lived in that shitty neighborhood already. (Sometimes the bridges are a little crispy around the edges too, but never mind that.) So that rules out uh... a lot of places. But mostly the east coast. That's fine, there are other directions. She ends up picking northwest partly because it's kind of the opposite of where she's been, but also the climate's nice. She likes rain. And she shouldn't stick out too badly. She doesn't have any particular attachment to where specifically she ends up, but she has better luck finding things in Oregon than Washington. Sure.
As she winds her way west on what's hopefully the last of her roadtripping for a good long while, she spends her evenings in hotels looking at places to live. Caroline's quietly hoping she can find something nicer than she usually manages, since she's planning to stay. It'd be nice not to have stairs in her bathroom or mirrors on the ceiling or anything.
One of those evenings, she forgets to check or uncheck some setting and ends up on a listing for a really cute house. It's got a nice spooky farmhouse vibe going for it-- right up her alley. And then she realizes it's for sale not a rental. Fucking hell. She's just scrolling back up to glare one last time before closing the tab when she sees the estimated monthly payment. Damn. No wonder she hadn't realized it wasn't a rental. It's fucking cheap. Maybe she'll just... find out what the hell's wrong with it. Just to see.
The... realtor? agent? she emails is super eager to please. Caroline gets a bunch more pictures than the listing has and a webcam tour scheduled for a couple days later. That turns out to be really useful and more than a little hilarious. She sends the poor woman all over the house opening cabinets and leaning on doors and knocking on walls and everything else she can think of. The realtor's really cheerful about the whole thing though, so Caroline doesn't feel too bad. As far as she can tell, there's nothing wrong with the house at all. So she gives in and asks.
The catch is the really cute house is in Buckaroo. The realtor takes Caroline's silence for an awkward pause and launches into a spiel about the many virtues of the little town and how it's totally not like people think. Mostly Caroline needs a moment to place why the name's familiar. That's right, the serial killer town. Yeah, that'll do it. She can practically hear the poor woman wringing her hands over the phone when Caroline tells her she's going to need to do some research.
She's not as put off by her cute spooky farmhouse being in Buckaroo as she knows she should be. (And since when is it "her" house?) But hell, Caroline's lived in all kinds of shady places before. She's from one. So... it might not be a deal breaker. It really depends on what she can find out. And what she finds is actually pretty encouraging. For being such a producer of serial killers, Buckaroo has very little violent crime. Pretty much no murder. Apparently all the Buckaroo Butchers go out into the world to do their killing. And there's not much assault or other violence either. Even accounting for how underreported those kinds of crimes tend to be, and it being a small town. It's... pretty chill there? Huh.
The realtor eagerly confirms all that when Caroline gets back in touch. And then goes ahead and admits to the other, more specific reason the house is so hard to sell. It's the next house over from the old Warren farm. Meaning Caroline would be living next to the Nailbiter's childhood home. Caroline has to put her hand over her phone so she can snort at that. Yeah. Sure.
So... barring anything really unfortunate when she gets there, Caroline is going to... own a home? How fucking weird. Caroline Lichfield, homeowner. Wow.
