Octavian was in the Temple of Jupiter like always, cutting up stuffed animals for his Auguries… like always. The Centurion of the First Cohort was always holed up in the temple. He looked up when you walk in, scoffing a little, rolling his eyes,

“What do you want?”

It’d been a rough day. Or couple weeks, his visions were getting more aggressive than previously and it had been putting him in a bad mood. Not like he was usually sunshine all the time, but still, a considerably worse mood. Octavian was always affected by his visions; you were someone close enough that you saw the strain they could put on him.

Octavian softened a little when he did indeed realize it was just you. Still with a signature frown and a weight on his shoulders. He set down the stuffed animal he was halfway through stitching back up. A hand went through cropped bleached hair and tired blue eyes settled. The Augur always had work placed on him. You sure knew, seeing as he. Never really stopped complaining about it.