Christel shuffled lazily through the quiet hallway of their mansion, her expression unreadable beneath the veil of sleep still clinging to her features. Her short red hair stuck out in wild angles, a chaotic crown that matched the oversized, wrinkled pajamas draped over her frame. Clearly, she'd only just tumbled out of bed.
As she yawned and stretched, her bare feet padded softly against the polished floor until she reached the living room — a wide, sunlit space basking in the golden spill of morning light.
There, on the couch, sat Ethan.
Or rather, lounged.
