#fivepaces

it really depends on the type of sleep she’s had, how long she slept for, if the dream was at all interesting. sometimes she remembers dreams with perfect clarity, sometimes she remembers them when she first wakes up but by the time she’s actually up and about she’ll have forgotten about it. i would say though about 70% of the time she doesn’t remember them. unless they are nightmares, she doesn’t have them very often, but when she does they are incredibly vivid and often she find herself unable to fall back asleep afterwards.

   A soft sigh escaped her as she gave a little wave of her hand. “Oh I’m sure it has something to do with them thinking that if more people are able to hear them, the more people might end up agreeing with them.”

@fivepaces said: you make it sound so easy.

she nods, acknowledging the compliment, but shrugs away the sentiment. " that is only because i first spent years making it sound painfully difficult. " she cannot but reflect somewhat harshly on those early days of her career. perhaps she could be kinder to herself, remember that skill is developed and talent honed. but she will not. it is only one step from such an attitude towards complacency - and that is the surest way to see a career crack and flounder. " i'm sure you understand, " she adds. " after all, no one who does make your work look easy would be in service of the queen... "

     She is not one to make a great fuss of things, and even now she is not. But there is something to it simply for the fact she voices anything at all. “I don’t want to make things more difficult for you, but I’m not overly fond of riding in carriages.” She holds her hands neatly in front of her as she chances a glance to the man several paces behind her. Amelia of course will, if there is no other way. “You’re sure I cannot ride on my own to get there?”

her mother and father would look disapprovingly at barbie, should they see her trying to grasp for her own books. but she stood by the fact that, just because she was a princess, didn't mean she couldn't do some things, herself. she'd always been proper, allowing her maids to dress her. her advisor gave her her royal lessons, teaching her to walk and talk and wave ( though the princess had been naturally charming and kind ; the staff at home found it hard not to love her ). retrieving a novel from the tall shelves of her library should not be something she needs help with.

but, seeing as how the ladder was off limits to her - if she were to fall and break her ankle, the king and queen would be more than furious - and since her hand was just a few inches short of reaching what she wanted, princess barbara stood on her tips toes, tongue slightly sticking out from her mouth, fingertips brushing against the book just below the one she grabbed for. just when frustration was inching up her neck, a gloved hand reaches around her to pluck the novel from its place, handing it to her gracefully. barbie lights up as she turns. 'oh, thank you, brimsley - i'm embarrassed to admit i've been trying at that for a good ten minutes,' she chuckles, glancing over the cover of the book before she holds it to her chest. 'i know i insist on doing some things on my own, but i appreciate your help when it is truly needed. i hope you know that,'

there is no reason for her nerves, she repeats to herself for the hundredth time in as many minutes. she is talented, is she not? she has worked hard. entertained princes and dukes alike... but still she finds herself standing at the open window of the musician's green room, taking deep, calming breaths of the cool air. it is only the sound of a footstep behind her that pulls her from her thoughts. she backs away from the window quickly, doing her best to hide her nerves beneath studied reserve. is that not what is expected of a prima donna?

" you're early, " she says, looking over the man - clearly one of the queen's many minions. " surely we are not meant to begin for an hour... "