Why was she awake? She didn't feel like she had slept at all. Her eyes felt gritty, her mind fuddled and slow. She rolled over to check the clock on her wall. It was only eight thirty. She smiled, feeling the glorious surge of warmth and comfort that came from knowing she still had another hour or so in bed. She snuggled deeper beneath the goose down duvet. There was a heavy knock at the door. Maybe if I just ignore it they’ll go away. She closed her eyes tightly, but the knocking came again, more insistent this time. She heard the heavy clumping of Manners, the family automaton, moving across the wooden floor downstairs. There was a pause, then the footsteps started up again, the tread becoming muted as they climbed the carpeted stairs. Octavia muttered a very rude word under her breath. Sleep was her only vice. She liked sleep. No, she loved sleep. Sleep was good. Sleep was…relaxing. It soothed her spirit.
