oo2 → my head worn out with love at rest in my hands and my hands full of dust [accidental visual]
Adjusting to Taxon - while refusing to think of it as 'adjusting to Taxon' - has led mostly to Petra spending the past several days mostly sort of...drifting. Not focusing on much of anything and certainly not venturing further than the castle's grounds. A courtyard hidden by high walls is about the farthest she's been interested in going.
Today she's not going anywhere, either, but she is beginning to make small adjustments to get by without the small army of servants she's accustomed to being able to call on. Not everything or everyone can be replaced, and while she's doing her best to tuck away how much she misses her family just enough to function - she's a little embarrassed at what seems like sheer vanity in some of the concerns that leaves bared in its wake. It's so irritating not having her lady's maid here, though, and while a few of these Extras milling around can take care of one thing or another around the place, she just wouldn't be comfortable with a stranger in her chambers.
...which is why when tablet is knocked on, Petra is sitting down in front of her mirror with her hair down, a determined look on her face and an assortment of hairpins, ribbons, thin chains and a few clasps. She can do someone else's hair just fine; all she needs to do is relearn how to do her own.
"This is ridiculous," she tells herself, picking up the comb with her back to the tablet, "it can't be so difficult."