Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug, Young Avengers/X-Men, Gossip Girl, Scooby-Doo, or Pretty Cure, and I make no money from writing fanfiction.
Synopsis (Full): Growing up, Chloé Bourgeois believed her mother, Audrey Chabert: The Queen of Fashion, was perfect and always tried emulating her. Now in her first year of lycèe, Chloé comes face-to-face with the veil of her mother's perfection unraveling around her in the form of her illegitimate twin sister and all the secrets surrounding her.
Growing up, Alya Césaire knew her mother, Marlena Césaire, was a culinary badass but they never saw eye-to-eye on anything. Now in her first year of lycèe, Marlena's culinary badassery lands her an "exceptional" chef-de-cuisine opportunity at the "prestigious" Le Grand Paris hotel, moving the whole family across the world; much to Alya's dismay.
In the city of Paris, these two very different "ordinary" girls must contend with: their mother's fame, an anonymous serial mass messenger vowing to unearth every secret in the city, magical moths using people's emotions against them, making friends, ...making enemies, hormones, easily excitable ancient magical creatures, and worst of all each other.
Fri, July 23rd, 2021
"Alya," With a sigh, Otis takes his glasses off so he can rub his eyes. Beside him, Marlena sets the paper with the giant red expulsion stamp on the table then looks up at her bespectacled daughter leaning back on the couch in front of them; across the room and definitely listening in on the conversation were the other kids. Nora was braiding Ella's hair while Etta just brazenly sat on one of the barstools facing them. Marlena was surprised she didn't have a—the microwave dings. Ah. There it went. Etta hops of the barstool to the microwave and takes out the bag of popcorn. She pours them into bowls then gives one to her twin before offering some to Nora who shakes her head. Shrugging, Etta gets back on the barstool. "H-How... How... did you get expelled from a school you haven't started attending yet? I-I am genuinely confused. Seriously. I-I didn't even know that was possible! What did you even do?"
Behind their lenses, Alya's brown eyes flicker between her parents. Marlena holds up a hand. "Please don't tell us 'someone was being bullied and you intervened?'" The brunette pleads, "please, Alya, don't... don't tell us that. Not again. You have been expelled from so many schools because of this—"
"Ow, Nora!"
"Shh!"
Marlena takes a deep breath, "—I don't wanna even hear that word. I don't even wanna hear a synonym for that word. I have lost track of how many times I've told you you aren't some 'agent of justice' or the next Storm that has to help out every downtrodden individual you cross paths with! Who even has the energy for all that?"
Otis puts a hand on Marlena's shoulder drawing her back, "before we jump to conclusions, let's hear her out."
"There's no reason to 'hear her out,' Otis. Because it's always the same damn story and I am sick of whatever volume we're on repeating the same trend. You know what? You're grounded. That's it. Go to your room."
"Marlena!"
"Don't 'Marlena' me, that is m—" She takes a deep breath, "—sorry. I'm just so damn tired and I don't wanna hear any excuses." Marlena's phone begins ringing, "seriously?!" With a groan, she picks up the phone laying on the wireless charging station on the side table then her eyes widen. "What area code is—" She gasps, "holy shit! This is–Everyone shush!" Before anyone can move, Marlena answers the call calmly. "Hello? This is Marlena Césaire."
Alya gets up then Nora grabs her arm as she walks past, "where are you going?"
"My room. I'm 'grounded,' remember? Besides, can't get in more trouble." Nora lets go then Alya leaves the living room and heads straight to her bedroom. When her parents want to continue yelling at her, at least she'll be comfortable. Alya gracelessly flops on her bed, on her stomach, then aimlessly flips through the open spellbook on her bed. Tikki flies out of her loose curly hair.
"Maybe it's because the time I spent around humans has been sporadic...? But I don't believe you were in the wrong. You defended yourself."
"With a barrier, Tikki. How do I explain to my parents, who do not know I can do magic, that I do magic? That a telekinesis-induced headache caused some kid's knife to ricochet off my head – at just the right time and angle – to flip back and slash their face instead of mine?"
Tikki floats in front of Alya's face, "I'm the kwami of creation, remember? I got this." Alya raises an eyebrow, "you take self-defense classes, right? You heard the attacker coming and ...reacted."
Alya whistles, "damn, Tikki."
"Best part is it's not a lie, because that's what you did! E-Even if it was because of telekinesis and not physical contact! But semantics." Tikki hums, "now that I'm thinking on it, shouldn't your parents be more troubled by the fact that a stranger came at you with a weapon rather than you defending yourself from the attacker?"
Alya snorts, "you'd think that, right? You heard my ma, Tikki, 'no excuses.' Whatever I say in my defense, they'll accuse me of overreacting."
"Overre—! Overreacting? Of course, you overreacted! Someone came at you with a knife! In school! Are you supposed to underreact?" Alya strokes her chin in thought, "and where was the faculty?!" Tikki continues, "I think you were set up! To hell with that school anyway. They were unworthy of you."
Alya pets the kwami who hums at the contact, "you make a good point. No one showed up until the screaming. But there's another issue. Creating barriers with headaches? Of all the superpowers I've read about... that is easily in the worst five! It's a terrible ability, and not something I can explain."
"Yes, it is bad, but it is also helpful. Think about it. You'd have a deep scar somewhere either behind your ear to the base of your neck or across half your face—" Tikki holds up her paws, "—and no, scars are not as sexy in real life as they are in video games."
Alya scoffs, "well, not with that attitude. I could pull of a bomb-ass scar. It would give me a dramatic backstory."
Tikki rolls her eyes, "no, it would not. It only would give you daily pain." Alya frowns, "look, your magic won't always be unstable. A witch's new powers always start off a bit... wonky. You'll be able to control the barriers with practice. You don't have to worry about explaining them either. Telekinetic barriers are invisible. No one, not even you, can see them. At most, it feels like a bonk on the head."
"Or a knife to the face." Alya snickers, raising her hand for a fist bump that Tikki obliges.
Alya was born with the ability to use magic. The only person who knows this is her older sister Nora and that's solely because Nora can use magic as well. Nora figures they got it from their father as the twins and their mother don't have magic. Their father died in the accident on the way to the hospital that resulted in Alya's birth – in the middle of the wreckage – and Otis coming into their lives. (Apparently, coaching animals to give birth isn't all that different than assisting a human; at least in Otis' experience.) Maybe their dad brought Otis to them with his dying breaths? They'll never know. (Necromancy is one magical specialty Nora makes sure they steer the hell away from.)
Marlena gets "a-once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity" at a new eatery almost monthly so the family moves around a lot. Alya hates it; she gets seasick, airsick, motion sick, all of it. They used to take a vote but stopped years ago when they realized Alya was the only one to disagree with the decision to move. The one saving grace of moving around on a whim whenever someone wants The Marlena Césaire to cook in their kitchen is... the different magical trinkets Alya finds all over the world. They've moved two-hundred-and-seventy-three times in fifteen years. Alya hasn't been in the same school for more than two months. They've been all over and Alya isn't fluent in any of the languages she partially understands. (It's sadder than sad.)
Marlena is a private chef, so her moving around frequently isn't just her being indecisive. Isn't just her being indecisive; it's the asshats that think they can continuously uproot a black woman's life whenever they feel like because they want to appear decent by giving her work. It's thinly veiled racism but Marlena responds with her food doing the talking.
They were fortunate enough to be in Louisiana during Mardi Gras this year. Alya wandered into a trinket shop. The shop-owner saw Alya then gestured a pair of red and black polkadotted earrings to her – never touching them, saying Alya could keep them free of charge. She was naturally skeptical but she picked the earrings up anyway and Tikki formed into existence before her. The shop-owner said Tikki was helpful in the store but wasn't living up to their potential being cooped up in one place and that Alya would be doing them a favor by letting Tikki stay with her. So Alya did. She and Tikki became partners-in-crime. It was nice having someone else to talk about magic with. As a being of pure magic, Tikki taught Alya new things. Not just about things regarding magic either.
Nora didn't know about Tikki though. Not yet.
Alya was taught self-defense and offensive fighting from Nora-the-kickboxer-in-training, and picked up some stuff from several self-defense classes. She and Nora also fought while practicing their magic. Having Tikki as her confidant while helping those who couldn't help themselves was great. Someone who encouraged her. Told her it wasn't bad that she wanted to help. Unlike her parents.
She'd think her mother of all people would understand. According to Nora, Marlena's parents are the worst! Alya and the twins have never met them, fortunately, but Nora – even just being two-years-old – just knew they were assholes. She didn't even allow them to embrace her upon meeting. All throughout her career they'd tell Marlena to her face, her fame is a fluke and it'll disappear sooner or later. And that she's only "kept around" as the token black celebrity chef. When she started out, they said all sorts of terrible things: "As a black woman, you think people are gonna hire you?" "Women don't cook professionally, especially black women." "Wearing your hair out is gonna get you noticed for all the wrong reasons." "Cast aside this ridiculous dream of yours."
Her mother may not outright say anything negative but it's always, "you can't help everyone" when all Alya wants to do is help. Realistically speaking, she knows it's impossible to help everyone she comes across but if she can make a difference why shouldn't she?
Why else have these powers?
Sighing, she draws a circle in the air with her left pointer finger and her hair magically ties itself into a high ponytail.
Tikki lands on Alya's left shoulder, "I know it didn't happen this time, but what are you going to do if you're forbidden from helping people?"
"They can't do that," She stares at the kwami, "can they?" Tikki gives a one-shoulder shrug.
Marlena screams then Alya hears hurried footsteps.
She'd get up... but she just laid down. "Aren't you curious?"
"Nope. She was on the phone with a restaurant or something. She probably got the job, no surprise. And we're gonna move even though we just got back to Martinique like two days ago. Our stuff isn't even here yet and we're leaving again." She rolls her eyes, "whatever. I'm over it." She skims the page. "Ooh. A hair coloring spell? Now that is interesting. I was thinking of going a red-orange, maybe add a little bit of pink." Before she can move her finger, Etta barrels into her room.
"There you are!"
"Let me guess, restaurant number 6,433 wants Marlena Césaire to come on down; she's the next head chef at their shitty establishment! How many Michelin Stars and James Beard Awards can she bring them?"
Etta instantly deflates, "you take the fun out of everything." She leans against the door, "Alya's in her room, everyone!" She yells over her shoulder. Alya closes her book and Tikki floats into her ponytail before everyone arrives.
The rest of the family piles into the doorway smiling. "Where are we going?!" Ella asks excitedly.
"Congratulations, ma. Should I bring out the party poppers and champagne?"
"Don't think we're finished talking with you about getting expelled during orientation." Alya shrugs then lays on her back, "we're going to Paris, France!"
"Wha—?!"
Marlena looks around at her family, "that is ...not the reaction I was expecting." Alya snorts then coughs into her hand to taper her laughter. "You all look terrified! What's wrong with Paris?"
"Akumas." Everyone replies.
"Aku-what?"
"Akumas." Nora repeats, "little moths that wreck with your mind and send you into a crazed magical frenzy for an hour. It's all over the world news. You're the one that tells us all the time to watch the world news! How could you not have heard of this?"
"How much did the place offer you?" Otis asks.
"A lot." Marlena sighs, "shit. I should've known. I was hoping we could live in a fancy city for at least a year. I'm not greedy. I'll take a year. Hell, I'll take six months. I know moving whenever I get a job offer isn't fun—"
"Alya's the only one who complains." Etta mutters and her twin sister nods in agreement.
"You can't expect me to believe the rest of you have zero problems with moving to a new location inconsistently." The twins exchange a glance before looking back at their mother impassively. "And you..." She pokes Otis in the chest, "you sometimes just grab whatever job you can find instead of taking care of animals like you love doing. Hell, I'm sick of moving around all the damn time! Yes, I also like going to whatever kitchen I can find a whisk in but I want some goddamn stability in my life! I've never had that! I hated being an army brat and I surpassed the amount of times my parents had us moving around, probably doubled."
"Tripled." Everyone, sans Alya, replies.
"Wait... have you all been keeping track?"
"Hun, we've moved two-hundred-and-seventy-three times." Marlena's jaw drops. "And sometimes you'd take a different chef job in the same city so over three-hundred locations can say Marlena Césaire cooked here. That's not bad. It's like a chef bingo card. Have you seen your chef card? It's really cute. Your hair is in the 'signature' style."
"'Signature...?'" Marlena sighs, "oh, God. Is it the bun? It's the bun isn't it? The bun I haven't wore my hair in since graduating culinary school?" Otis nods, and Marlena gestures to her hair in a halo twist braid. "What is it with people and that damn hairstyle? It's been over thirty years, let it go!" She shakes her head, "whatever. Doesn't matter. I'm going to take a new—Wait, I got off topic! We are going to Paris and we are going to stay at least six months, moths or no moths!" Everyone gives an indifferent shrug in response. "That's good enough!" Marlena turns to Alya, "now everyone leave." Before Otis can open his mouth, the twins each grab one of his hands dragging him out of the room. Nora closes the door behind her.
Alya rolls back on her chest and looks at her mother. "Yes, mother?"
Marlena's eyes narrow. "You didn't explain what happened at school."
Alya smiles, all mirth, and Marlena's eyes narrow further. "Oh, you know. Same ol', same ol'. Saying that word which cannot be said? Making a mess of things. That damn rabid Césaire girl! Can't control her hair, how can she control the rest of her?"
"Alya, I'm being serious."
"So am I. What do you want me to say, ma? I was trying to be noble and all that shit? Sorry to break my streak but I wasn't out to help anyone. I was checking my ridiculous class schedule when a kid came at me with a knife. I heard the movement and, I don't know, deflected it. There's my amazing, wondrous story of selflessness."
"Wait, you what?" Marlena rushes over to Alya grabbing her head, making Tikki sneak deeper from her head down to the end of her ponytail. "Are you hurt? Did the knife hit you?" Marlena pauses checking Alya's head, "how did you deflect it?"
Alya shrugs. "I'm just that awesome."
-.
Sat, July 24th, 2021
Chloé flops back in her beach chair in her bathingsuit, adjusting her oversized sunhat. For a graduation present, to herself and her best gal, the duo took a trip to Normandy to relax on the beach during summer vacation to prepare themselves for lycèe in September.
And they really deserved it too. In addition to all the collège bullshit Chloé was forced to do, she voluntarily made improvements to her home of the hotel Le Grand Paris. She's not certain exactly when or if she's ever gonna be put in charge of the hotel, but the changes she made were necessary now.
The hotel hasn't brought in any new... anything, in months! Understandable, as her parents were busy with mayor stuff. Chloé decided to ease their burden; that's very grown-up of her! Makes her deserve the vacation that much more. Her father, André Bourgeois, was the mayor of Paris for the past twelve years. Before his second term was up, he -somehow- convinced his wife: Queen of Fashion Audrey Chabert, to not only return to the city after the year she spent abroad in North America working on her magazine – Royals of Fashion – but to return to turn politician and run for mayor.
Naturally, one as exceptional as Audrey was the clear and obvious choice for mayor (no one even remembered who her "opponent" was, they didn't offer my opposition and wasn't worth remembering). Swearing to return the city of Paris to fashion form and glory after its home-grown fashion icon, Émilie Graham de Vanily, left following the disappearance of her husband, Gabriel Graham de Vanily, almost nine years ago.
Chloé gave the hotel a complete overhaul. Wiped the slate clean. Fired every employee excluding their head butler who was also Chloé's oldest babysitter... who happened to own a piece of the hotel's stock and take business classes on the side, and begun hiring new faces from all over. It was a travesty Le Grand Paris was the only hotel in Paris to never have a non-male chef or front of house employee. That was just one of the many problems with the place Chloé fixed.
Chloé professionally gave everyone a two-weeks notice that they were all being replaced. And while she personally could not care less what happened to the former, incompetent bunch, her best friend and partner-in-crime Kagami Tsurugi gave her that look that brooked no argument... and it made Chloé make sure everyone was given far better recommendations than they deserved as they "moved on with their careers" or whatever and saw to them being hired at whatever job they applied for. It was honestly a huge waste of time but Kagami and Chloé were equally stubborn. One of the reasons they were best friends. Nevertheless, as Kagami is the only person on the planet Chloé respects, she did what Kagami asked of her.
(Kagami is just too damn nice for her own good sometimes; it's why she struggles with some of the debutante lessons Audrey teaches them.)
Speaking of Kagami, the black-haired teen arrives to the left of Chloé blocking the blonde's sunlight but that's alright Kagami is a far better sight. Chloé lowers her oversized sunglasses to stare at the shorter teen wearing a black and purple Hello Kitty t-shirt, a pair of purple shorts, black sandals, holding onto a large black beach bag. "Hey, Babe, what have you been up to?"
"I walked along the shore and picked up some seashells."
Chloé raises an eyebrow, "...you didn't actually touch that germ-infested water, right? It's so unsanitary. People use it as a public restroom!" Chloé shudders putting her sunglasses back over her eyes, "I'll stick with private heated pools. Speaking of, later?" Nodding, Kagami pulls a multicolored seashell from her bag and Chloé gasps and sits up. "Ooh! Shiny!" She makes grabby hands toward it and Kagami puts it in her hand. "Holy fuck. Wow. I mean, okay, I get it. I get why you'd bear traversing unclean water and squishing sand between your toes to grab this beauty." Chloé caresses the seashell, "I'm going to dream of sweet, sweet jewelry to make from you. What kind of seashell is it?"
Kagami shrugs, "I don't know. I grabbed all different kinds of seashells."
"If I knew you wanted to go seashell hunting, I would've rented out the whole beach."
"I didn't know I wanted to 'hunt seashells' until I got on the shore and spotted one. Then I continued to pick up some until I filled several compartments of my bag."
"More seashells just mean more jewelry~" Chloé puts her ear next to the shell, "I hear something."
"The ocean?" Chloé slowly shakes her head and Kagami frowns crouching down then putting her ear next to the seashell. Her frown deepens when, instead of the calm pleasant sound of the ocean..., she hears an ominous scratching noise. "That's disturbing." Kagami hums, "this beachhouse was the property of the Graham de Vanily family, was it not? They say Gabriel Graham de Vanily disappeared in a truly horrific manner."
Chloé full-body shudders, "I hate that your occult shit gets me every time."
Kagami grins at her then flips the seashell upside down, "I'm sure it's—" A black ring falls out of the seashell and onto Chloé's upper thigh, "...nothing." She finishes weakly.
Chloé glares up at her. "Kagami Yumi Tsurugi, I swear if you cursed us—" A burst of light shoots from the ring on Chloe's thigh. Chloé jumps up standing on the chair as the light takes shape. "Shit," Chloé grumbles, "shit, shit, shit. If this is an akuma, I'm gonna be so pissed."
They both watch as the body forms, then the limbs, tail, head and lastly two pointed ears on top of its head. The creature opens its large mouth as it yawns, showing off its fangs. When its mouth closes, its green cat-like eyes open. Those green eyes look around until they land on the chair, more specifically the ring on the chair.
Chloé and the creature lock eyes then dive for the ring at the same time, grabbing the ring at the same time. Given how small the ring and creature are in comparison to Chloé, it's pretty comical watching the blonde struggle to have ownership of the ring. "Chloé, let go. It's just a ring."
"This isn't just 'a ring.'" Chloé lets go with a gasp then falls backwards on her ass into the sand.
Kagami's eyes widen as the creature cradles the ring in its paws. The ring is black with green paw bead and a bit of green on the middle of the shank. "A-Am I high or did it speak?"
"It spoke. It definitely spoke." The creature flies over to Kagami and its eyes start glowing.
"Hey! Hey, you—" Chloé scrambles to her feet, "you stay the hell away from her!" The creature turns to Chloé next, stopping her in her tracks with its glowing green eyes. The creature floats over to Chloé pressing their head and the ring against Chloé's forehead.
How long has it last been since Plagg's seen the threads of karma in motion? Though this vessel has serious thread tangles and chakra blockage. It's generally a mess. The one positive Plagg can sense is the amount of affection and love pulsing like a beacon for the black-haired girl beside her.
Next, Plagg presses their forehead and the miraculous against the black-haired teen's forehead. This vessel is less of a mess, although still chaotic, but the affection and love for the blonde is just as strong.
Moving their head from the black-haired teen's, Plagg drops their miraculous into the blonde kit's hand. The ring changes into a gold criss-crossing double ring with the criss-crossing pattern shaped into a pair of cat ears. Plagg's new pair of kits look from the ring to the kwami. "I'm Plagg, your kwami. Never had two wielders at once before." They turn to the blonde, "though you need more work." The blonde lets out an offended gasp.
"The ring changed shape and color." Plagg's clearly smarter kit takes the ring from her littermate then gasps when it changes into a rose gold double-ring with claw marks etched into it.
"Shape-changing jewelry? I'll never have to shop for jewelry again! Or maybe I still will but just not as often?" Plagg shakes their head as they continuously pass the ring between them murmuring in awe each time.
"Alright, that's enough! The ring changes color and shape with each wielder but once activated it's the same." The blonde kit pouts and the black-haired kit nods thoughtfully. "Now then... I have questions: where am I, what year is this, what language am I speaking, and please tell me cheese still exists?"
.-
"This is... hey, you called me. You should know who I am." Beep.
André's left eye twitches as he calls his daughter's cellphone and receives the answering machine. "Princess? This is papa, calling again. Just checking up on you. Please call me back?" Then he hangs up the phone with a sigh. "Wonderful. My daughter isn't responding to my calls. Jean-Martin? Would you consider me to be a bad papa?"
The butler twitches ever-so-slightly as he rests the teacup and saucer onto the table in front of André. Thankfully, André doesn't notice the movement. Jean-Martin is mercifully spared from answering a question he really doesn't want to answer, when Audrey's assistant Nathalie enters the penthouse. The blue-haired woman adjusts her glasses. "Good afternoon, I am here on Mme. Chabert's behalf."
"Audrey isn't here."
"I am aware, M. Bourgeois, I am waiting for her to escort her to the mayor's office."
André jumps up from his seat, "s-she's coming back now!?" He anxiously begins pacing the living room floor. "There's no time to run to Sanguine. Hell, I don't even know why she left!" He gasps, "I-I have to get to the lobby to greet her."
"No need, M. Bourgeois," André stops pacing to stare at Nathalie, "as you may have noticed, I am standing here. Not in the lobby." He blinks at her and she sighs, "she is returning in the helicopter."
"The helicopter? She hasn't used that in a while."
When Audrey returned in March to run for mayor after being in New York for a full calendar year (and then some) and he wasn't there to greet her, he had to take two trips to Sanguine, her favorite chocolatier, to get her to think about forgiving him. Worst of all, André was never informed of Audrey's return to Paris! Not even Nathalie knew Audrey arrived in Paris until Audrey arrived in Paris. She arrived a week earlier than she told him she would and he somehow got blamed for not knowing.
Audrey has never been the type to take accountability, but André enjoys living in Le Grand Paris so he'd never voice that out loud.
After receiving a phone call that made Audrey look as disinterested as usual in anything that wasn't fashion, she suddenly literally dropped everything in her hands – phone included – then stood and said she was going back to New York because she forgot something. Before André could ask, she picked up her phone then called up the limo to take her to the private jet.
What could Audrey have forgotten for her to just jetset to New York and back for less than twenty-four hours?
Nathalie is as impassive as ever when her phone pings. "The helicopter landed." André sprints out of the suite to the roof. Jean-Martin sighs while Nathalie merely shakes her head.
André reaches the roof on time to see the helicopter land on the landing pad. Audrey steps out of the helicopter strangely wearing the same outfit she left in, and not even wearing her signature gold sunglasses. André opens his mouth to greet her but she holds up one hand and presses the other against her forehead as she walks past him.
André frowns then something moving out the corner of his eye has him turn back to the helicopter. A single suitcase falls out of the helicopter. Then a blonde with long straight loose hair wearing a pair of dark blue ripped jeans, a faded black jacket, a white shirt with some sort of green eyeball or something in the middle, and a pair of bright green and white sneakers hops out of the helicopter then picks up the suitcase. "Thanks for the lift, M. Fred!"
"My pleasure, Mlle. Lee." The pilot inclines his head, "M. Bourgeois."
"Y-Yes. Thank you for bringing them here safely." The pilot nods then flies off.
The blonde walks over to him. "'Sup, Name's Zöé." She extends her hand and André shakes it. Once the handshake is done, André stares at the girl. She oddly looks a bit like his daughter. A lot less polished, but the similarities are there. And that accent is unmistakable. It's an American "New Yorker" accent. He heard it all the time when Audrey brought him to New York for fashion week when they first got married. (Oddly enough Audrey herself, as the "proud, native, New Yorker" she constantly claimed to be, doesn't have the native accent.)
Wait a minute. Audrey didn't forget this girl, did she?!
No. That is not the place where his brain wants to go. Instead, André smiles at the newcomer. "Hello, Zöé. I'm André. Former mayor and co-owner of this hotel. M-May I take your bag?"
"Sure. Thanks." She hands over her suitcase to him.
"If you don't mind me asking, how do you know Audrey?"
"I don't. My papa does. He got sick, real sick. Mme. Chabert offered to take me in while he recovers." André nods slowly, contemplative. That's... uncharacteristically selfless of Audrey. Alarmingly uncharacteristically selfless. This is the same Audrey who outshone her own mother at the woman's wedding. The same Audrey who hardly smeared any mascara when her sister told her about her cancer. The same Audrey who made him come to Paris and give up his passion for directing in London because Paris was "the fashion capital of the world" then left him here and went to New York, for years at a time, because New York is "the true fashion capital of the world." This doesn't make any sense. André knows his wife. Audrey will never do anything that doesn't benefit her at least eighty-five percent. ...Unless she's being blackmailed? Now that he can understand. Zöé hums, "or maybe papa asked her to come? I'm not really sure how the conversation went. One minute they closed the door in front of me, the next I was being told to pack."
"Y-You only had one suitcase of belongings?"
Zöé nods, "yup. Everything I own is in there." André grimaces. Oh dear. He makes sure to hold the suitcase carefully then he gestures for Zöé to follow him. It's a decent size suitcase but still. Just one? "Papa is a minimalist."
"W-What about the rest of your family?"
"I don't have any other family beside my grandparents..." At the sigh, André glances at the teen, "my grandparents are extremely homophobic. I'm talking cartoony extremely." André grimaces, "I'm gay, so they've never liked me. They even blamed me for papa getting sick. Said it was punishment for my 'lifestyle.'"
"What a terrible thing to say to a child!"
Zöé gives a one-shoulder shrug, "they've said worse. I don't know what they would've done to me if papa hadn't called Mme. Chabert."
"What does your papa do?"
"He's a big-shot photographer. Always disappears for his latest 'gig.'" André grimaces. That sounds far too much like Audrey. "Said he and Mme. Chabert go way back, but he's never mentioned her before." André gets a funny feeling in his gut but he ignores it. He and Audrey started out in an open relationship, it was only after Chloé's birth that they turned monogamous. André shakes his head to clear it as he walks down the stairs.
Zöé gasps when she opens the door and looks at the lobby. "This is huge!"
"This is only the lobby." Zöé turns to him wide-eyed. André chuckles, "the doors are right there. There are four bedrooms in the suite and three bathrooms. I'll happily give you a tour." Nodding, Zöé puts one hand on each of the handles then slowly opens the double doors.
Zöé wordlessly looks around with every step she takes. This place is so elegant. Why did her papa send her here? To get an international celebrity to pick her up in person then take her back to her home to look after her while he recovers? Mme. Chabert must've owed him one hell of a favor. It's a good thing Zöé took French her last two years of collège. She's not exactly fluent but she understands enough, and for everything she doesn't understand there's her trusty translator app.
The first stop on the tour is her bedroom. André gently places her bag on the chaise. "I'm assuming Audrey didn't bring you here just to show you around, so this will be your room." Zöé squints at the glittery gold walls. "Across the hall is my daughter Chloé's bedroom, but she's in Normandy for summer break. She's attending lycèe in the fall."
Zöé looks up at the man, "by herself?" André tilts his head to the left, "your daughter... is in Normandy alone?"
André chuckles and shakes his head, "of course not! Her best friend went with her."
Zöé stares blankly at the man, "but two teenagers are still on vacation by themselves?"
"It's a private beachhouse." Zöé continues to stare and André adjusts his shirt collar. "L-Let me show you around!"
-.
"XOXO, Paris. Commère here. Hope you're having a summer to remember. I know I sure am. Spotted: 'The Queen of Fashion' returning to the city via helicopter." Cropping up all over the website are pictures of Audrey Chabert – clad in a white and gold pinstripe romper – exiting a helicopter walking past her husband, André. "I knew one day someone would see Le Grand Paris' helicopter pad be used. But I suppose the question on our lips would be: where did she go only to return not even a full day later? Last we espied Mme. Chabert, she was heading toward the Bourgeois' private hanger at the airport." Pictures surface with Audrey Chabert wearing the same outfit with timestamps of 9:30pm, 07.23.21 on them, "the most shocking thing of all? She didn't even bother changing outfits. Is 'the Queen of Fashion' about to become dethroned?"
-.
"Can't wait to see what lie you come up with to get your stilettos out of this ditch, Fashion Queen. - XOXO, C"
Audrey slams her cellphone onto her desk. "When I find out who this fucking asshole is..." She growls, "the utter gall threatening me! Me! Audrey Regina Chabert!" She left the hotel and went straight for the mayor's office with Nathalie silently side-eyeing her the entire time. Nathalie was Émilie and Gabriel's personal assistant before Gabriel's mysterious disappearance. And how a recluse goes missing is a question in itself. Nevertheless, when Émilie left Paris... Audrey didn't want to leave Nathalie unemployed. And sure, she could have went with Émilie to wherever Émilie went to, but that would've been a terrible imposition for the woman. Instead of... that, Audrey hired her as her personal liaison between continents. But as damn efficient as the woman was, Audrey wanted to make her her personal assistant at her Royals of Fashion headquarters in Manhattan. Oh, shit. She forgot. She has to stay here for the time being. Hmm... she can always have another building built for her fashion empire. She is mayor after all. André's done far worse than attempt to return fashion to the city.
Audrey opens her right side drawer then picks up a bottle of aspirin and takes out two pills dry swallowing them. Damn this fucking migraine. She'll deal with André when her migraine subsides. Nathalie reenters the office. "I have forwarded your request to Mme. Beaubier, she'll be arriving on the 27th to decorate the guest room."
"Make it sooner."
"Eh..." Nathalie pauses, then adjusts her glasses, "I will contact her. One more thing." Audrey looks up at the woman, "tomorrow is your brunch with the new Police Commander."
Audrey groans, "new police commander? What the fuck happened to the old one?"
"Fired, after he jumped the curb and nearly struck your daughter and Kagami Tsurugi with his car."
Audrey's head snaps up and she stares at Nathalie wide-eyed, "say again?"
"The former police commander was fired..." She begins slowly, "due to nearly mowing down your daughter and her best friend when he jumped the curb."
"When did this happen?"
"Two weeks ago. When the girls were heading to the airport."
"...Where was I when this happened?"
"I honestly have no idea, Mme. Chabert. We were unable to contact you."
Audrey frowns. "Two weeks ago... two weeks ago...?" She shrugs, "whatever, it already happened. I'm not one to dwell on past events, as you know, but he shouldn't've just gotten fired, he should've been tossed in jail."
"Your daughter didn't press charges."
Audrey chuckles, "why am I laughing?" She shakes her head, "you and I can both agree Chloé doesn't subvert the 'dumb blonde' stereotype. And even if she was smarter, what she wants wouldn't matter anyhow. She's just a child. I am her guardian and I am pressing charges. So get that taken care of. Where is this scummy asshole anyway?"
"We don't know where he is now. After Chloé berated his recklessness, he was possessed by an akuma and targeted your daughter. Once he was reverted to normal, he fled."
"The fucking nerve! He nearly hits her then goes after her as an akuma? What the fuck was done about it?"
"Nothing."
"'Nothing?'" Audrey repeats, dumbfounded. "I didn't just go hard-of-hearing, did I? You said nothing was done about some slimeball going after my debu—a—ther? Daughter?"
Nathalie raises an eyebrow and Audrey frowns, "there isn't any legal reprimanding for akuma attacks, Mme. Chabert."
"Considering they've been going on the whole year? It's time to fucking make some." Audrey slams her fist on the table, "this is why I'm mayor now. Make a note of this, Nathalie: the next asshole that rampages through the city due to 'magic moths' or what the fuck ever is going to be hit with one hell of a fine! Fixing this city isn't cheap! And there's no way in hell I will be dipping into my personal funds to fix anything in this unpalatable hellhole until it's restored to its fashion glory! And speaking of fashion, make another note." The blue-haired woman types on her tablet never breaking eye contact with Audrey, "I'm building the Royals of Fashion Secondary Editing building in the city. Until then, this office will be where my crew will brainstorm. In other words, I'm going to need Mme. Beaubier's services for multiple days." Nathalie nods. "Ooh! Before I forget, I want to create a taskforce to find both 'Le Contrôleur' and 'Commère.'"
"A taskforce?"
"What else do you call a group of people dedicated to one mission? Assholes like Commère telling everyone's business are dangerous enough without the even bigger asshole like Contrôleur using that ammunition to fuck up the city. I'm fucking sick of it. This is my city..." Audrey ignores her phone's notification alert. "I'm putting an end to this shit. I'll discuss it with the police commander during our brunch."
.-
Sun, July 25th, 2021
2021. Plagg still can't wrap their paws around it. Inactive for nearly one-thousand years. Life must've been capital-D dull. The kwami watches their kits preparing themselves breakfast. Kagami Y. Tsurugi. Chloé A. C. Bourgeois. (Apparently, whoever wrote up Chloé's birth certificate placed Chabert as her second middle name rather than her first hyphenated surname.) Fifteen-year-old human females with a very loving, supportive bond of each other.
Chloé holds the whole damn blender under Kagami's chin then tilts it to give the shorter kit some of the strange, frothy white liquid inside. Thank the sages the blender is unplugged. "That's good."
"Yeah? First try." Kagami licks her lips and lets out an impressed hum, "can't be in a beachhouse without piña coladas~"
"What other beachhouse drinks can we make?"
"Margaritas~" Chloé happily hums to herself as she goes into the refrigerator taking out the necessary ingredients. Plagg curiously floats over to Kagami laying something in a pan. Plagg sniffs happily. Neither of their kits can eat cheese, a travesty, but this smells pretty good.
"What's this?"
"An okonomiyaki. It was the only way I would eat vegetables while we were still living in Hokkaido. My ob—grand-mère taught me how to make them. My maman is a terrible cook and that is not because she is blind. Her tastebuds are strange. And her inability to assort flavors leaves for some..."
"Gross shit." Chloé says.
Kagami nods slowly. "...Thankfully, as maman can't even order decent food, I learned to cook to prevent us both from starving. And I have even been able to satisfy her strange tastes while separating them from my food."
"And what about you?"
"I know how to cook because Kagami taught me. We're equals. I gotta pull my own weight when we take off, not drag her down. Her maman would slit my throat otherwise. Now the kitchen in my suite is purely a decorative piece. The... what do you call them? Equipment? Appliances? The stuff that came with the hotel one-hundred something years ago have never been turned on."
Plagg frowns. "Isn't that dangerous?"
Chloé shrugs. "Probably. If my parents could have personal chefs for their personal chefs, they would."
"I have to wonder though. With so many restrictions hindering your dietary needs, is it wise to have other people preparing your food knowing what could easily kill you?"
"Food allergies are not 'restrictions,' Plagg. We get our basic dietary needs, and being unable to eat certain foods doesn't hinder us. It allows us to find new foods we can eat and enjoy."
"As for the 'kill us instantly' foods, we avoid those since we do the grocery shopping. Speaking of groceries... are we good here?"
"We're going to need more oatmilk soon."
Plagg hums, "given you have a beachhouse, and your parents own a hotel, I'm surprised you do something as mundane as shop for you own food."
"I enjoy all forms of shopping." Chloé brags, "and I'll only know what I want by seeing it myself."
Plagg nods. "Makes sense. Can't trust the eyes of others to know what you want. I think I wanna learn to cook."
"You have no fingers." Chloé says flatly.
"Don't need 'em! I wanna help my kits flourish. All I want is for you two to be at your best." The smile slips off Plagg's face. "The last time I was active... a sick son of a bitch I wouldn't dare ever call one of my kits, tried using me and not in the fun way."
"What did you do about your old wielder?" Kagami asks.
Plagg grins, "I cataclysmed them, of course. That's what I do. I'm the embodiment of decay and destruction. Guess I used too much power and ended up throwing my miraculous into the ocean." The kwami laughs, "it was worth it to see the look on their face. Just because kwamis are small, it doesn't make us helpless. And our wielders don't 'lord over us,' we're partners. If a wielder tries to go megalomaniac on them, it's the kwami's right to physically smack some sense into them."
"Who created the kwamis?"
"Who else? The creator of all sapient life. We were around with the dinosaurs. Bitchy things those were. When humans were created, a group possessing magic calling themselves 'sages' created our miraculouses. We wanted an easy, fashionable way to travel so we linked our powers to jewelry and other easily accessible trinkets."
Chloé hums. "I can understand that. I too enjoy being adorned in jewels. The fashionable, the better. But I don't understand. After you sacked the bastard who tried using you, you ended up flinging yourself into the ocean? How?"
"When a kwami uses their powers by themselves, it's far more powerful than using it with the miraculous. That's... kinda why we had our powers linked the miraculouses in the first place. The explosion from my cataclysm was so powerful that my miraculous went flying. While I laid waste to everything in the area, miraculouses are indestructible. Even my cataclysm can't destroy them. Yeah, they can be cracked, corrupted, punctured, and just beaten the hell up but they'll still work throughout anything. Kwamis are connected to their miraculous and can't be too far from them. I got sucked into the miraculous when I couldn't sense it anymore."
"If miraculouses can be damaged, can they be repaired?" Kagami asks.
"Yeah. Takes some magic elixir and knowledge of magical artifacts. Easy squeazy. A miraculous that is damaged will unnaturally draw life essence from both the kwami and the human partner."
"When you say unnaturally..." Kagami begins.
"...you mean this ring—" Chloé points to the ring on her middle left finger, "draws my life essence!?"
"No. Not draws, per se. Sort of siphons? No. Damn, that's the wrong word. I'm trying to say it'll give and take? We draw magic from each other. But when a miraculous is damaged, there is no give and take. There's only the taking. Bonus perk from using my miraculous? You'll become more cat-like with use of my miraculous. Your senses will be enhanced to fabulous cat status."
Chloé gasps while Kagami smiles, "that—"
"Is not a bonus perk! Sure, cats are adorable and soft and—" Chloé gasps. "—I swear someone better be feeding Yuzu!"
Plagg glances at Kagami, "Chloé's cat. She's orange-yellowish like a yuzu. She also has a wolf spider."
"Aren't those poisonous?"
"No, Gohma isn't poisonous. Kagami is the one with the poisonous pet."
"Dr. Speckles has never hurt anyone who hasn't deserved it and you know it."
Plagg blinks, "doctor, you said? What kind of poisonous pet did you name 'doctor?'"
"My frog."
"Her poisonous dart frog. Which, you know, has poison in its name. As the first word." Chloé sticks her tongue out at Kagami who returns the gesture.
Plagg sighs. Well, these are the youngest kits Plagg's ever connected with. "Any other pets I should be aware of?" Both kits shake their heads. "It's been a few centuries since I've seen anything besides the inside of my ring, but weren't kids your age obsessed over dogs?"
"Dogs are gross." Both girls say with finality.
Plagg grins, "they are. Alright, it's time to see what the world has become without my excellence influencing it." The kits share a glance and they both shrug, "...right after I use the water closet."
Chloé tilts her head to the left, "the what?"
"H-T—wait, we forgot to ask what gender you are."
"Ah. That concept. I remember that one before getting lost in the tide." The kits shake their heads at the joke causing Plagg to clear their throat. "Listen, I appreciate the concern but there is nothing to worry yourselves over. Kwami are monogendered. Though some have come to utilize human identifying terms. I personally am fine with they slash them. You may also use 'your majesty' or the 'royal we.'"
Chloé snorts, "yeah right. No fucking way are we addressing you as royalty."
Plagg shrugs, "suit yourself."
"Let me take you to the restroom."
"Take them to the one we rarely use!"
Once Plagg returns from the restroom they see Kagami sets down a couple more okonomiyakis onto the plate while Chloé prepares more drinks and appetizers. The kits work in harmony perfectly. Shame one of them couldn't find Tikki. They'd make one hell of a pair. Plagg smiles to themself when they see Chloé setting a space for them at the table. Now, Plagg has to wonder what Tikki has been up to the past thousand years?
-.
The flight has been scheduled for the 31st of July. A red-eye. Marlena hates red-eye flights. The brunette stares at the digital tickets on her phone. Two tickets. Ordinarily, she'd take Nora and they'd have a grand time shopping and exploring the city.
Marlena pauses mid-step to stare at the closed bedroom door. The rest of the family is watching a movie in the living room while Alya is in her room, alone. Of all her daughters, Alya is the one she knows least about. Whenever Marlena hears Alya has a problem, her daughter either figures it out on her own or Nora just inserts herself into the situation and helps before Marlena can come along and offer any advice.
On the one hand, Marlena is impressed that Alya is so independent at fourteen-and-a-half. On the other hand, it means she hasn't done much mothering to her second-born. Nora has usurped all motherly rights from under Marlena's nose without even realizing it. Nora is just as fiercely protective of Etta and Ella but she and Alya are closer in age and much like the twins share inside jokes, so do Alya and Nora.
Nevertheless, Marlena can't help feel that she's failing Alya. Every time Alya gets in trouble in school, the staff point fingers at her homelife, at her parents, at Marlena in particular. "Busy mother not controlling her rabid children." They'd whisper with their judgmental looks. All of her kids were troublemakers. It came with being a Césaire. Alya just got into trouble more than the other three combined (and the twins have repeatedly been called hellspawn). Nora got in trouble the least because if people got in her face, disputes were quickly ended in a headbutt.
This is Otis' fault for taking Alya to meet Storm! When Marlena shooed him and Alya away so neither could catch the chickenpox, Otis sent her pictures of her three-year-old posing next to Storm. Not some Storm cosplayer lookalike, the actual superhero Ororo Munroe. Neither of them have fully delved into the experience but hero-worship and that "help everybody" ideology was seared into Alya's brain that day. (Nora was pissed because she not only had the chickenpox but missed meeting her favorite superhero too.)
Alya has been Storm every Halloween for the past decade. Although considering the lack of black female superheroes known globally, there aren't that many costumes to choose from. And even fewer options in stores.
Her relationship with Alya isn't hostile like Marlena's relationship with her parents but it's not exactly as gratifying as Marlena's relationship with her other daughters.
Marlena doesn't want to be like her parents. They didn't get along. She was kept on a leash and they planned her life out for her without her consent. They wanted her—they wanted all their children—to follow in their footsteps and be in the military, but Marlena applied to then subsequently got enrolled into culinary school giving their so-called plans the finger. And not that her parents were generally good people prior to that happening, but they turned outright hostile toward her afterward.
Maybe this is punishment for defying her parents? No. Her parents were assholes. All her siblings agree. None of them ended up in the military, and their parents always brought it up during conversation. So if Marlena was being punished for that, her five siblings would be punished alongside her and while they have their issues or unless they're just flat out lying – they have good relationships with their children.
Fortunately, it's been over a decade since Marlena spoke to her parents. Marlena's older sister, Amahle, is a realtor who hooked Marlena up with this house. Though as Marlena knows her sister, she knows Amahle just wanted the house for herself but couldn't sell herself a house and earn commission. Amahle was grateful for the opportunity to house sit while they were going to be in Paris.
The moving company was delivering their items on the 2nd of August, or so they said, but the hotel wanted Marlena to start off the new month. And to redirect the items mid-travel would be "impossible" so they have to drop everything off at the house they barely broke in only for another moving company – because fuck the one they're using – to bring everything to Paris.
Marlena knocks on Alya's door. When she doesn't hear anything, Marlena opens the door then enters the room. She looks around and sees the room is empty. She's not sure what she expects to find in an empty room. "Ma?" She jumps then turns to see Alya in the doorway, "you okay?"
"Yes." Alya nods slowly then walks past Marlena and lays on her bed – as it's the only piece of furniture in her room. Marlena's youngest sister bought it as a housewarming present. "I want you to come to Paris with me this weekend. Next weekend."
"Gee, ma, I'd love to but you grounded me." Marlena frowns. "Besides, I'm a horrible traveling companion."
"I wouldn't know. The two of us have never traveled together." Alya hums then shrugs. "That's it?" Marlena sighs, "I don't know why I bothered. Look, I would like to have your company – terrible or otherwise – on this trip. Try something new? I've traveled alone with everyone else at least twice except you."
"Because I get air sick easy and you throw up when you see other people throwing up. Can you imagine being wedged together on an airplane both puking our lunches out?"
"And that's better than being wedged into the moving van puking your guts out?"
"At least I have space to stretch my legs."
"The tickets I got are for first-class accommodations. You'll have all the leg room to throw up to your stomach's content. Or do you view spending time with me as some sort of punishment?"
"That's not fair, ma. I don't wanna go to Paris, that's punishment enough. On top of grounding me—"
"I'm ungrounding you." Alya furrows her eyebrows, "in fact, I owe you a decade worth of apologies. I don't like the way you impulsively jump to the defense of who or whatever you find being treated unfairly, yet I just as impulsively jump down your throat and put the blame on you without hearing your side of the story. I'm so sorry, Alya. I know you do what you do because your heart is in the right place and you have an unnatural obsession with superheroes and helping people. But sadly, that is just about all I know about you. I want you to join me on this trip so we can bond. What do you say?"
Alya shrugs, "okay. But if we end up throwing up the whole time you can't blame it on me."
"It's a deal."
.-
Audrey internally cringes at the balding orange-haired man in his rumpled beige suit. Beside him is a pale, bespectacled orange-haired teen (?) wearing a yellow sundress. "Welcome to brunch!" Audrey greets.
"Thank you, Mme. Mayor. I appreciate the opportunity to be here. Um, I hope you don't mind me bringing my daughter, Sabrina?"
"Of course not. Sit, sit." She gestures for him to sit and he bows his head then takes a seat to her right and his daughter sits on his left. Thankfully, brunch involves alcohol. Maybe it'll eliminate that horrible cheap cologne smell coming from the police commander. "It's good having you here. Having you both here." The police commander's daughter raises an eyebrow at Audrey before looking away. "Let's talk about your duties as police commander, M..."
"Raincomprix. Roger Raincomprix."
"Commander Raincomprix. I'll jump right into it. I'm really sick of 'Le Contrôleur' thinking they can do whatever they want to the city and not suffer any consequences—" Roger opens his mouth but Audrey holds up a hand, "—I'm perfectly aware that we don't know who they are or where they are. That's inconsequential. The important part is 'Le' Contrôleur sees whatever their akumas see. Possibly. We'd have to think so if they can communicate with akumas. If Contrôleur sees us arresting akumas, they'll think twice about akuma-ing people." Audrey frowns at the police commander's still open mouth. "What is it?"
Roger shuts his mouth then takes a deep breath before opening his mouth again, "what if that makes things worse? What if Le Contrôleur thrives off the chaos and makes more akumas?"
Audrey scowls, "that's not likely. All supervillains are flashy. Overly flashy. Contrôleur won't stir up all that trouble with no audience. What would the point be? And that is why I want you to put together a magical taskforce. Yes," Audrey holds up a hand, "I hear how utterly ridiculous it sounds out loud, but I was born in Manhattan, New York in North America. I've had my share of magical encounters with supervillains. That was what we called a regular Wednesday afternoon throughout the 80s and 90s. If we arrest the akumas Contrôleur makes without the fanfare, Contrôleur will back off until they come up with a new strategy that garner's attention."
"If you say so?"
"I know what I'm talking about. You'll find that I am right ninety-nine percent of the time." The man nods slowly. "Let's have ourselves some brunch and discuss the finer details, shall we?" Audrey stands, "the mimosas are this way." Roger stands then nudges his daughter. The bespectacled teen sighs before getting up and following her father.
When brunch ends, Audrey barges into Zöé's bedroom and tsks when she sees the teen still asleep in the bed. She checks the time on the clock then walks over to the bed and pulls the covers off the bed. Zöé immediately shudders and hunches in on herself but doesn't wake up. "Ridiculous." Audrey mutters. She shakes the teen's shoulder. "Get up, will you? I hardly believe Michael allowed you to sleep past noon."
Zöé's face scrunches up before she slowly wakes up, "huh? Wha—? What is it?"
"I'd ask if you slept well, but it's nearly 1pm. Who knows how long you'd be loafing in bed if I hadn't come along." Zöé sits up slowly with a yawn, "you're part of polished society now, Zöé. Although, I fail to understand how you aren't used to this already. Regardless, you are a debutante from this moment on and you will have certain responsibilities. It's inexcusable for you to just laze about all day." Audrey looks the blonde over. She's wearing mismatched pyjamas: a hideous white oversized t-shirt with pink ink splatters all over it and black and yellow gingham patterned pants. "Furthermore, your clothing selections must meet my standards if you are to leave this hotel."
"Wait just a second, what did you say?"
Scowling, Audrey folds her arms over her chest. "I don't repeat myself. If you were paying attention, you'd know what was said and what is expected of you."
"I'm barely even awake and you're barking orders at me! How am I supposed to hear let alone understand what you're saying?"
"You're going to have to get used to that. André!" It takes all of two seconds for the man to appear at Audrey's side sweating profusely, "make a doctor's appointment for Zöé for tomorrow. Unless that's too big a task for you?"
"I-It'll get done, Beloved." Then he disappears.
"When you come from or are being housed by an exemplary family – like mine, you're basically a debutante until your 'debut' into high society. Back in the start-up days, your 'debut' was when you married a man of impeccable status." Zöé grimaces, "but with the debutante-to-socialite society being incredibly accepting of the LGBTQ+ community, marriage no longer matters. You decide what marks your debut into the socialite world. And you want to be a socialite. They attend all the best events and are envied simply for existing! Debutantes are the example of what young women nowadays should be. Polished, sophisticated, articulate, fashionable, decisive, intelligent. It's important for young women to show they're more than pretty faces. Their intellect must be seen! Their voices must be heard! If you don't have the heels to strut down life's uneven runway, you'll get grounded down more than the common coffee bean. That is why debutantes exist."
"Mme. Chabert, this doesn't sound like something I want to be part of."
Audrey chuckles, "you don't have a choice." Zöé's jaw drops, "you're a horrifically unrefined young woman in dire need of polishing."
"Who the hell do you think you are deciding that for me?"
Audrey's eyes widen a fraction before she schools her features, "I am presently your guardian. Your papa and I discussed it. You will become a debutante and be better off for it. The first thing you need to work on is your accent." Zöé's eyes narrow, "while I understand you ...somewhat, your pronunciation leaves something to be desired." Audrey clicks her tongue, "you pronounce several letters more forcefully than others and neglect the pronunciation of other letters outright. You're speaking French, not English. Pronunciation is key. We absolutely do not want to go down the stereotypical, uneducated American route."
"This is bullshit! I'm not changing the way I talk. And I'm not some doll you get to dress up to suit your needs! Don't you even care how I feel about any of this?"
"No. Why would I? As I said, you'll be better off because of this. And as for your attitude? Do you think I'd allow any child under my roof to dare talk back to me like you are? As punishment, I am going to start your debutante training a day early. As in, right now. Get out of bed and put on a plain white sundress then meet me in the second ballroom in fifteen minutes. For every minute you are late, I will tack on an extra half-hour of lessons."
Zöé screams hopping off her bed stomping past Audrey.
Audrey massages her temples. "Chloé will be a good influence on her." The blonde scowls, "and hopefully not the other way around."
Audrey growls when her phone pings that annoying sound. She glares at her phone. "Did you just lie to that girl, to her face, about your identity? You really are the worst. I told you if you didn't tell your family the truth I'd tell them myself. You have until Friday, Fashion Queen. -XOXO, C"
-.
Mon, July 26th, 2021
"This is... hey, you called me. You should know who I am." Beep.
André massages his temples. "Princess? It's papa, again. I know you're on vacation but I haven't heard from you in a while. Call me back?"
"You're hopeless! Utterly hopeless!" André peers through the ajar door watching Zöé unsteadily sway across the ballroom. That poor girl. André hasn't seen Audrey be this intense since Chloé was starting out her lessons at age four.
The book falls off Zöé's head as she walks. "Pick it up and start again! I sincerely hope you aren't doing so poorly on purpose?" Audrey narrows her eyes. "You will answer me when addressed!"
Zöé picks up the book then walks to the end of the ballroom. "No, madame, I'm not flailing intentionally. I just can't do this."
"Then you'll keep at it until you can."
Before André can decide whether or not to intervene, his phone vibrates in his pocket. His phone vibrates in his pocket. He takes the phone out of his pocket and frowns at the anonymous message. "What is all gold, shallow as a kiddie pool, has arrogance with its own gravitational pull, and lies with every breath? C'mon André. I know you know this one. -XOXO, C"
André frowns. Great. Not another text from this "Commère." If the damn magical moths from Le Contrôleur popping up when the year started weren't bad enough, Commère appeared in late spring and started sending out texts vowing to purge the city clean of secrets. Their intro was very flashy. They spoke about how secrets are painful and family-shattering. And one particular painful, family-shattering secret was the first they exposed. International rock star, Jagged Stone, had a bastard son he knew about with his old bandmate Captain Anarka "Anarky" Couffaine. Anarka who is a known nuisance in the city, and an honest-to-god pirate, scares the hell out of André. After she pulled a cutlass out at him for "entering her property without the captain's say-so," he avoided Anarka like Audrey avoids plant-based foods. Can anyone truly blame Jagged for not sticking around? Naturally, news of Jagged Stone being a deadbeat father caused a significant dip in his popularity. It also garnered him tons of support from other former deadbeat celebrity parents around the world.
Since then, Jagged has attempted to be some type of father figure to his son. Le Grand Paris was the only hotel willing to take the man in so he stuck around for a month, postponing his tour so he could spend time with his son and "bond." Unfortunately for Jagged, his and Anarka's son – Luka who was as pirate as his mother but also had this grunge rocker look that didn't fit his laidback persona – vocally stated he wanted nothing to do with the man. Every time Jagged extended an invite, it always ended up coming back to him at the hotel.
It makes André glad he and Chloé have such a good relationship. Chloé tells him everything; he even knows her monthly cycle schedule. Speaking of Chloé, André checks his phone for any messages from her. He hasn't been able to reach her but maybe she texted him and he missed it? The last text he got from her was two weeks ago which simply wrote: "vacay mode with my better half: do not disturb."
André didn't think he was disturbing his only child checking on her but he hasn't been in contact with her in two weeks!
André stares at his phone a bit longer before putting it back in his pocket. Knowing he is going to pay for this later, he jovially opens the door. "Audrey! How about brunch?"
His wife actually growls at him when she looks up. "Not. Now." She hisses.
"Actually," Zöé gently takes the book off her head and sets it on the ground beside her then blatantly stares Audrey in the face, "I could use a nice hot meal, M. Bourgeois." She turns to André. "Thanks." Audrey glares at the teen exiting the ballroom then glares at André.
"L-Love, if I may ask? What are you doing?"
"What a question!" Audrey shakes her head, "what does it look like? I'm buffing out the hard edge of this dirt-covered diamond. Or I was until you interrupted." André gulps. "Did you see that look? Openly defying me? She'll learn soon enough." She sighs, "what did the doctor say?"
"Hm? Oh! Right. Zöé is perfectly healthy."
Audrey raises an eyebrow, "I'm sensing a 'but' forthcoming."
"Just a lactose allergy."
"That can be easily worked around." Then Audrey walks off.
André sighs. He never told Audrey about Chloé's food and non-food allergies. Hell, the way she behaved when the doctor told them Chloé suffered from depression was gut-wrenching. She wasn't even willing to allow Chloé to go to therapy or get medicated. She viewed Chloé's mental-health issues as "weaknesses that could be worked around." André should've known. When he told Audrey about his gluten intolerance, she told him to "get over himself."
Lord knows he fucked up royally allowing Audrey to poison Chloé's mind with all this debutante bullshit. Audrey was in and out of Chloé's life living in New York working on her magazine only coming back to Paris "to get inspiration." She'd disappear for years at a time without any contact then just show up and expect her word to be law. More often than not when Chloé grew up she forgot who Audrey was. But it's André's own fault. He knew Audrey was selfish when he married her.
André read that some food allergies are hereditary. Chloé has gluten and lactose intolerance like he does but she also has tons of other allergies and sensitivities. Chloé is extremely diligent when it comes to food; probably because Kagami shares some of the food allergies and sensitivities she does.
As far as André knows, Audrey has no food allergies. However, André will note – even if Commère was not dropping obvious hints constantly – Audrey does not tell him everything.
André didn't know you could test for lactose intolerance without actually intaking any lactose! Technology today was astounding. Now... André won't jump to conclusions. This is all a coincidence. Many people are lactose intolerant and not related to him. Many people share features but aren't related to each other. He's thinking too much. This is why he needs Chloé here.
He leaves the ballroom then takes the elevator up to the penthouse suite. Chloé would tell him to check his blood pressure. That sounds like a good idea.