Stars And Tiaras

2

Tiredly Giorno wandered the lavish halls, his hips and knees feeling like he had chewed up gum wedged inbetween his joints, because he hadn't had a break from his work in a while.

He passed gorgeous windows that stretched far up the wall, velvet curtains being bunched up at the sides to let the morning sun shine through while the ends pooled onto the tiled floor, the colour matching the extensively long rug laying in the middle of the hallway symmetrically; a stunning carmine red.

Darkwood dressers meekly stood between the spaces of the overpowering windows, their only purpose being to hold museum-worthy decorative vases, placed as if the hallway was just one big mirror. Other rooms with equally large and exquisite doors stayed dormant on the opposite side to the windows, the gleaming sunrise making the gold accents shine.

However, that aesthetically pleasing illusion broke once he reached the stairs.

A white marble staircase leading downstairs to the remaining rooms.

Looking to continue his route to the kitchen, he wanted to move forward, but something caught his eye.

Different patches of light made some steps glow. Giorno's vision followed the colourful overlay to the stained-glass window above the dramatically large front door, the glass was accompanied by  marble statues, they were small, however their detail made up for their size, resembling women from ancient Rome.

Giorno almost hesitated to continue as he didn't want to disrupt the foyer's peaceful aura by doing a simple task; using the stairs.

But he did have to get to the kitchen to eat the delicious breakfast Bruno was making for him, and he didn't want to pass up on that, knowing how good Bruno's cooking was compared to his own.

Reaching his left hand onto the cold and smooth banister, he put one foot forward onto the step, then another, his hand sliding down the marble with ease as he decended the stairs.

Yawning again, the teenager reached the ground floor of his home, as his ears were invaded by the sounds of chattering coming from the left -Oh, right, someone had told him that Bucciarati was making pancakes.

Wait-

...

Who asked him again?

Giorno made a face of pure confusion; yes someone had indeed said that but he couldn't remember who as his brain was too tired to register the individuals voice, only their words. Scouring his brain to link a voice to a face, his seafoam eyes subconsciously drifted downwards into the polished floor.

Nevermind, he'll know who it was when he sits down to eat.

Probably.