Snippet #2191655

Ｏｃｔａｖｉｕｓ Ａｌｄｅｒａｎｃｅ: Ｔｈｅ Ｃｏｕｎｔ

Octavius stretched, letting out a long loud yawn as he stared out one of the large windows in his study already fully dressed aside from his wig in semi-formal wear, a long black coat with small gothic patterns on it and a plain black long sleeve button-up overshirt with black dress pants, his pants were tucked into a pair of big black leather boots.

The previous night was quite strenuous. He had spent almost the entire night with his wife Ophelia, who was being defiant almost the entire time. He, of course, had punished her accordingly for it by being even more rough than he normally was which even had it's repercussions on him. 'Nothing a cup of coffee can't fix..' he thought to himself. He called to his personal servant who was standing just outside of his study. "Yes, Count Octavius?" The servant was an older man, and has been around since Octavius was a young boy. "Would you fetch me a cup of coffee, please?" His servant bowed, giving a tired smile. "Yes, Sir," and left to go make Octavius' favorite brew that was a tradition after a long night.

There was another servant in the room dusting shelves, Octavius shot a glance towards her and pointed to one of the higher shelves. "You missed a spot." The servant girl stammered and nearly fell off of the tall ladder that she was on top of. "I'm sorry, Count Octavius! I will get right on it!" Octavius was a very controlling man in his manor. Every servant, maid, cook, and doctor knew who the real Octavius was behind the closed doors and feared him. Some showed this fear, while others tried their best to hide it to not give him satisfaction of him seeing them in fear. Octavius grinned a bit and turned back to the window, placing his hands behind his back and taking in the sights of gloomy London.

After awhile, his servant returned with the steaming cup of coffee. Octavius turned and took the cup of coffee, smiling. "Thank you, Thomas." He took a sip of the coffee and gave a slow nod of approval.

"Is that all, Count Octavius?" Octavius shook his head after taking another sip. "Mm..No, I need you to go and inform Ophelia's maids that we will be attending breakfast with the Duke and Duchess today. I expect her to wear dark clothing today. Oh, and tell Doctor Clarke to be there as well. I want to make sure my son is alright. Ophelia hurt her stomach last night and I'd like to be sure she isn't suffering internal injuries." Octavius said 'Son' even though he had no clue of the gender of the baby inside of her because he believed if he said it enough, his wishes would come true.

"Yes, Sir." Thomas bowed and left to do the Count's biddings.

Octavius finished his cup of coffee, setting it down on the side of his desk and grabbed his wig, placing it on top of his head. It was one of his most comfortable wigs and could wear it in his sleep and feel comfortable. The wig was long and snowy white, tucked neatly behind his ears. Most of the hair hung loosely to his mid-back but a bit of hair was flung over his shoulder and laid flat against his chest. He glanced at himself in a small mirror on his desk, giving himself a stern look before smiling. He saw his father in his eyes and it made him proud to be who he was and where he stood. He was living up to his father's wishes. After a few moments he stood fully and started to head down to the breakfast lounge to wait for those who were invited.

Breakfast was already being prepared when he arrived and he was glad of that, he was having a good day so far, he didn't want his cooks ruining it already. He sat in an armchair in the corner of the room, a servant coming to him with a cup of coffee which he happily took and sipped on with his eyes closed. He was going through his day in his mind. The very end of the day was what he was anticipating and his thoughts dwelled on the Mistress he was planning on meeting in the late evening. "Mm..A good day indeed.."

When Ophelia entered the room, he tried to avoid her, knowing she would ruin his mood with her emotions of the previous night. He grabbed a book and opened it up on his lap, reading the boring literature in order to give himself the illusion of being busy.