The thick, black line begins, smooth and fluid, curving over her slender wrist in order to merge within itself. It's soon followed by another, completing the tear drop shape. A leaf, she notes, as the details are added in.
It was her favorite part of the day, one of which she looked forward to on especially hard evenings. Somewhere out there, her soulmate was pouring his heart and soul into the masterpiece unfolding on her skin.
There's hesitations in her actions as she uncaps the black pen with straight teeth, struggling to keep the canvas of her skin steady, despite the apparent knowledge it would not affect her soul mate, wherever he was. She had never responded, never had the courage to reciprocate on purpose. Besides the little notes scribbled into the palm of her hand which served as little reminders, she had not once attempted to return the favor. Fear was an awful deterrent, as Marinette was by no means normal. How would she be able to drag him into her life when she had been chosen to give her life for her city's sake?
Taking the cap from her lips, the designer hesitates, the tip of the maker hovering only inches above untouched skin as her soulmates continues his part, unknowing of her struggle. It's an accident, then, the way she jumps at the sudden bang beneath her. The apology from her father below goes ignored as the lines cease.
Her heart stops and threatens to fall into the pit of her stomach as she notices the ruined portion of his piece. Her mouth runs dry as she imagines him at home, shock clearly written over his expression. It quickly falls into something akin to hurt, destroyed by his soulmates first response.
He doesn't begin again and the thought of him never drawing for her again becomes too much. So, she commences, following the mistaken line until it grows thick enough to merge into another. The marker dips and curves, effortlessly adding to the accent of her design.
It surprises her how quickly time has passed as she straightens to examine her work. It's familiar...as it mimics the pattern she's so accustomed to sketching on her original designs. A smile curves on her lips as she captures a memory with her phone before sighing. Could he be insulted?...She certainly hoped not.
Standing, she begins her routine, the hollow ache in her heart prominent as she scrubs the design in her shower. He's yet to do the same with his portion and it remains as she settles in her bed. Ocean blue follow the clear marks of his pen, fingertips lifting to brush against the skin as the tiny hairs in the back of her neck rise. It's subtle, the feather-like touch which ghosts above her skin. Could he have been doing the same?...
"Marinette? Can...can I talk to you?"
A gentle smile settles on the designer's lips as she nods, following behind the timid artist into the art room where he spent most of his afternoons. The light is flicked on even through the darkness and the smile only grows. For him to know where the switch was...
"S-sit. Please. I-I have something to show you."
Confusion settles in her expression as she silently obliges, watching with renowned interest as he fishes through his baby blue satchel to locate an erasable black marker. He visibly hesitates, a hand running through the curtain of red hair before tugging the sleeve obstructing his right hand down.
He's quick, talented, as he recalls the image from memory, leaving her dumbstruck as it progresses. Nathanaël doesn't turn or speak until the image is done, a small smile settling on his lips as his hand settles in the back of his neck in modesty.
It was her piece from the previous night. Her mouth opens, eyes wide.
"I...I-I guess we're soulmates..."