#alysannewright

Basilia looked up at the woman entering the stable, curiously. She gave her a small smile and curtsied to her.

that is the best motto in life

He was late. Bucky Barnes was almost never late, he was always early or on time. But today was different. Hurrying through the street, Bucky weaved in and out of people as he went. Maybe he wouldn't be too terribly late if he hurried. 

Days had passed since the breaking of the curse in Storybrooke and within those hours, it was chaos. Citizens reuniting with lost loved ones, figuring out who they were, realizing they weren't in their own universe anymore. It was havoc everywhere. 

That's how Victoria made her money. Because when it became chaotic, people became careless. And when they became careless, phones dropped, they forgot how to pull up a web browser, coffee would spill on their iPods. The works. 

She may not have remembered exactly what her own past was, there seemed to be a block keeping her from doing so. But at least she felt useful. Fixing up everyone's electronics kept her mind busy. In her little shop, she could play some orchestral music, sit at her front desk and ignore the mayhem outside and live in her own world. 

Of course, the serenity would be broken every time the door bell rang when someone walked in. Which was often.