Don't You Fret, My Dear

Past Travels

(Katt's P.O.V)

I hear the waves crashing against the sides of the ship, I taste the saltwater in the air. I slowly walk across the floorboards, trying not to lose my balance.

Although this is my third time on a trip of this sort, I've yet learned to manage the massive amounts of anxiety. My first time was way worse; I was of low ranks and still learning my duties. With only a vague understanding of what a guardian was.

Once I reach my quarters, I begin to look through my trunk as a means to kill time. I've brought with me the only things I have to call my own: A dark gray cloak (which is to be warn upon my arrival), one of two blue dresses; the simpler one, (I'm wearing  the nicer one to make a good first-impression with the King and Queen), a third dress, this time an old faded one the color of golden-rods. Although it's not particularly fancy, it's very special to me, and I have decided to save it for the right occasion. 

"It can wait," I remember thinking that morning whilst choosing between my dresses, "it can wait..."

I close my trunk and run my tired hand over the rough leather sides. It's more of a suitcase, really. It's stamped with the locations of my past travels: sky blue ink spelling out FRANCE from my first assignment. It was mostly a test, to see how much I'd learned in training, but I'd made friends with their strawberry-blonde princess, who always insisted we wake up before the sunrise to aid the maids with morning chores.

There's a forest-green stamp from New Orleans, my second assignment. I became acquainted with the princess there, as well. She had a rather good talent for cooking, especially comfort-food. She had even opened up her own restaurant. 

I hear them calling me to the top deck, I guess we're getting ready to dock.