── 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 world like a lazy painter spilling gold across the sky. Streaks of honey and amber continued to melt into the soft pastels of dawn, casting a warm, sleepy glow over the horizon. The air hums with the soft song of morning, a delicate shimmer of light tracing the edge of distant hills and rooftops, turning every surface into liquid gold. The world is bathed in a soft─dream, warm, and endless.

Nestled within the golden embrace stood a manor, its silhouette bold against the radiant sky. Its towering windows catch the morning light, glinting the captured stars, while the grand facade─stone and ivy entwined─whispers of old wealth and timeless elegance. Twin staircases curl like silk ribbons up to an intricately caved entrance, where a set of heavy oak doors stand, adorned with wrought-iron embellishments that told a story of a craftsmanship long past. The sprawling gardens surrounding the estate awakening beneath the sun's gentle touch, dewdrops clinging to petals like tiny diamonds, while a quite breeze stirs the treetops, sending golden leaves fluttering like forgotten whispers of autumn.

Every detail, from the delicate arch of the balconies to the winding stone paths leading to hidden courtyards, speaks of quiet grandeur—an untouched, perfect world, bathed in sunlight and the weight of its own history. 

The golden sunlight flickered through the towering windows of the manor, draping the grand hall in a soft, ethereal glow. Dust motes swirled lazily within the air, caught in the sun's embrace, while the polished marble floors reflect the delicate warmth of morning. The manor is alive—not with the usual quiet elegance it exudes, but with the shimmering tension of an utterly ridiculous dispute.

In the center of the room, sprawled across an opulent, cream-coloured sectional, sat a collection of fairly well-dressed spectators. Silk, lace, and tailored suits blend seamlessly into the timeless luxury of their surroundings, their postures for the most part being both poised and indulgent they continued to watch the spectacle unfold before them. Crystal glasses rested lightly in the manicured hands, untouched save for the occasional, deep entertained sips.

The true chaos, however, stood just before them. A smaller group—beginning with two, adding a third party, before turning into five—had become entangled in an argument so absurd it bordered on theatrical. It had begun with one. One simple individual, voice sharp with disbelief, clutching a now-ruined article of clothing in their hands like it was a fallen soldier. 

"You absolute barbarian." Their voice cuts through the stillness, horrified, scandalized, as they held up what was once an ivory-white cosy sweater—now streaked with the unmistakable shade of crimson. The crime? Some fool—some menace—had mixed whites with different colours in the washing machine.

Oras, the moron to have conducted such a heinous crime moved could do nothing more than fold his arms over his chest. His eyes lingering over the clothing in question with nothing more than a blank stare. "It's not that big of a deal—" the male moved his attention elsewhere as he muttered his words with a simple shrug of his shoulders.

"Not that big of a— You have single-handedly DESTROYED my wardrobe! I hope you know that." Irene's expression fell into a furthermore disbelief. Her fingers running throughout the fluff of her hair as she made an attempt to calm herself down.

The male however clicked his tongue, biting the inner walls of his cheek for a moment as he began to get chewed out by the mudi werewolf. His fingers curling around the bracelet he wore as his expression continued to harden the longer Irene continued to speak. "It's one sweater, it isn't that much of a big deal—"

"And whose sweater was it, hmm? Was it yours?" Irene's tone had become visibly softer—not the kind of soft tone one could happily fall asleep to, but instead, one that would force one awake upon hearing it in the middle of the night. "No? Then why don't you shut up."

The others, once well-meaning peacekeepers, had been dragged in by sheer force of verbal warfare. Side were drawn. Voices escalated.  Gestures became dramatic, one individual placing a hand to their chest, as though they had been mortally wounded by the very concept of the laundry sabotage.

Meanwhile, the audience sitting upon the couch remained deeply invested. A few taking sips from their drinks, others exchange glances—silently debating if this event was worth intervening for, or it it's simply the entertainment of the morning and a time to place bets.

At the very least, it had been far more of an interesting way to begin the day.

⋮ ⌗ ┆𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 !!

── So.. i honestly wasn't quite sure on ways to continue this page. So, i've decided that this could simply be some really strange interactive part! A reality show, almost. Everyone knows the basic beginning of it, so whenever you're bored you can simply come over here and roleplay the rest as a reality show.

── The character Irene is by Raemon_Shirogami / _nephelisolace_ !

── The character Oras is by oralise <3 

── I will try and do my best with future chapters, i simply wanted to get something written and out there to try take my mind off of puking- so yay :')