D
Demonesqu
Guest
Original poster
Little town in the center of old' France was waking up from a cold morning. Spring had come but still had not gone out of it's early stages of cold-weather. It still snowed here and there, nothing new to the town. The residence consisted of bakers, a Library, a few families, farmers, and finally the banker. Benedict; was a son of a well known banker around the town. Harvier, which had to remarry twice due to his first wife dyeing of a sickness that spread in the town, Benedict was only 8. Benedict now runs the family business since his father died from the civil war.
Taking on the business he felt pressured from both his peers, but, most of all from his Step mother. He never felt quite uncomfortable around her, at home he was practically a Cinderella. Doing all the work his in-law was relied on from his father passing. When he heard he had the family business, it was a wave of mixed feelings and stress for him. This also meant he had his own place away from his step-mother. He liked not being the mule for the past 2 years. People admired the presence of Benedict now that he was more in the city. Lots have said they see his father in him. He was nice to everyone although rather sheepish and more shy than most of the men. He was a introvert and could never see himself marry anytime soon... Although he did like the image of having a woman for company than papers and checks. But he knew that it wasn't possible for him. He was too much of a work horse, and tries his best to follow his father's foot steps.
Benedict now leaves the bank, standing at the door he fumbles with his keys. It was early but he had been there all night slaving over papers and getting things done that he knew could have been done yesterday. He coughed loudly. Benedict was officially working himself to death. He'd come to this conclusion soon enough, feeling the acheness in his hands. He adjusted his glasses after finally, after a few times getting the wrong key, he had locked the door. He adjusted the tightness of his neck hanker, and had to adjust his rather short sleeves to go over his aching wrists. In hopes that the morning frost won't get to it. He looks around the foggy streets, taking a moment to take in the blurriness that the weather had brought him.
((Sorry that this is so long, I had to make a background check, hopefully you understand.))