Thank you to Khanofallorcs for beta-ing.
Chapter Twenty-Two
"Do we have patrol tonight?"
"No," Tikki said, drifting above Adrien as he laid on his bed. "But we could go out on our own if you'd like to."
"...It's okay," Adrien said with a sigh. "Maybe I'll just take a nap, it never hurts to get more sleep..."
He never understood why people looked forward to the weekend– because a full open day was just trouble waiting to happen. Each hour perfectly waiting for something to be shoved into it if nothing was planned before. Usually that could be filled with some time with friends, but that was currently off the table.
He had tried asking otherwise, but the only reply he had got was that he could see them at school– so he wasn't being kept from his friends. That left Adrien's only escape to be to take for the rooftops for patrol with Lady, but there really wasn't much of a point to that if she wouldn't be out as well.
He tried to think on the bright side, that Tikki was here to accompany him, so he wasn't truly alone– but the fact that free time had been taken from him made it feel like the walls were closing in once again.
And he had thought things were getting better at Christmas. His father had come out of his office, had started a new tradition so they could eat together without the heavy reminder of Mother, and Adrien had been able to look forward to the New Year with the high hopes that the idea of recovery could actually happen for them. But that had only taken a few weeks and one akuma attack to find himself locked within the mansion walls once more.
His thoughts were interrupted by an alert on his phone.
Adrien pulled up the device, his mood instantly lightening as he saw it was from Marinette. He sat up, finding a short message and a link on his phone. His eyes quickly scanned it, and he rolled off his bed and headed over towards his computer.
"Everything okay?" Tikki asked, following after him.
"Marinette invited me to a group of some kind," he said, pulling up a browser. "I have to have apps approved before I download them, so this will be quicker."
He shot a quick message back to Marinette to let her know he was joining, but needed to make an account first. Tikki hovered over his shoulder, watching for a moment, before drifting off to do her own thing. She never seemed to care much for using modern technology, even though he had heard her gush on several occasions about how creative humans had become.
With the username of LuckyBlackCat07 and a new password he'd have to remember, found himself joining the group, not sure what it was for, but it involved both Marinette and an escape from his boredom, so he was more than happy to jump in.
EagleWing: who's this lucky cat guy?
EonsAway: I see we have a new member. Hello!
mecha47: how did you get in here?
Ladybug: chill guys, I invited him.
needsCoffee you added someone?
Ladybug: you were saying we needed some new blood for our mecha strike games, so here you go
LuckyBlackCat07: Hi?
needsCoffee: hello
Ladybug: also please don't use my real name here, Lucky, no one knows it
EagleWing: ooo, someone Bug knows irl
Ladybug: these are some online gaming friends of mine, we get together and play mecha strike a lot, and figured you'd like to join! ^^
[LuckyBlackCat07 set nickname to BlackCat.]
BlackCat: Thank you so much! You have no idea how bored I was just now!
Adrien paused, hovering over the keyboard, not quite sure what to call Marinette. Her real name was out, so no Mari or Nette like at school. Princess was one Crimson used, and not him, and her username wasn't providing any options either. Clearly she was still a strong Crimson Beetle fan, but anything to do with 'lady' was for his Lady only.
mecha47: so you're in paris too right Cat? are the akumas like what Bug says?
BlackCat: I'm not sure what she says about them, so I don't know?
Ladybug: I just tell it how it is
needsCoffee: so just pure magic and chaos?
Ladybug: never know when school will be out because, I dunno, some guys gets obsessed with pigeons or something and butterfly villain decides that's the perfect foe
BlackCat: Watch, that's actually going to happen now.
BlackCat: So, where are you all from then, if not Paris?
EonsAway: Eagle and I are from New York.
needsCoffee: Marseille
mecha47: quebec
EagleWing: looks like we have another case of Proper Perfect Grammar with Cat here
EagleWing: you and Eon will get along great
BlackCat: Heh. My friends always say I sound way too formal when texting.
Ladybug: it's always like he's writing a business email or something smh
BlackCat: Never heard you complain about it, Bugaboo.
BlackCat: Is this what you guys talk about behind my back? The way I type?
EagleWing: bugaboo, huh?
needsCoffee: should have told us you were inviting your boyfriend
EagleWing: new rule no pda in the chat
EonsAway: I can add that to the rule list if we need to.
Ladybug: nono, we're not dating! Just friends!
BlackCat: For now.
Ladybug: Cat?
BlackCat: Just saying I'm single.
BlackCat: And I'm happy to change that status if you'd like. ;)
Ladybug: sdkdjksdfj
Ladybug: flirty cat, are we now?
BlackCat: Only for you, Bugaboo.
Ladybug: and now the rhymes
Ladybug: and don't call me that
BlackCat: ...Buganette?
Ladybug: NO!
mecha47: yeah, better add that no pda rule, Eon
Ladybug: this isn't pda!
needsCoffee: get a chat room, you two
Ladybug: sjdsfljksfdjlk
Ladybug: stahp!
BlackCat: Am I bugging you, Bugaboo?
Ladybug: you're so dead monday
EagleWing: I ship it
Ladybug: believe it or not he's more mellow irl
mecha47: mellow?
Ladybug: idk what word!
Ladybug: shy doesn't work
BlackCat: Handsome? Charming?
Ladybug: modest.
EagleWing: oh yes, he's the pristine example of modestness
needsCoffee: the king of modest /s
Ladybug: let's just get a game of mecha strike going already
EonsAway: I'll boot up a room for us to join.
BlackCat: Anyone here able to beat you, Bugaboo?
Ladybug: no, I'm the best at this game, you should know that by now
Ladybug: and is that nickname really going to stay? -_-
BlackCat: I won't use it if you don't want me to.
Ladybug: ...
Ladybug: just don't call me buganette
BlackCat: :D
Adrien found a smile on his face as he and those in the group chat shifted from the chat room to Ultimate Mecha Strike, where he once again found himself being crushed by Marinette. She had skill when it came to the game, and her online friends most certainly knew it. The only one that seemed to come close to Marinette was 'Eon', but even with the precise movements she was able to execute, Marinette was still able to get an edge.
Even as a newcomer, the others were nothing but welcoming to him as he joined their games. And while Adrien's multiplayer experience with Ultimate Mecha Strike was fairly limited– only the tournament and just random people online, he found that when he could actually talk to whom he was playing with, it was much more fun.
It couldn't last forever, with it growing late and a photoshoot in the morning, he soon found himself needing to quit. He had to guess that Mari and 'needsCoffee' would soon be behind him, with them being hours ahead of the others. Even as he logged off, he still found a smile plastered on his face.
"It's kinda nice, actually," Adrien muttered as he turned off his computer.
"You have fun?" Tikki asked, drifting towards him.
"It was a blast," Adrien said. "Just got reminded how nice it is to actually meet people without the name Agreste being flashed in their faces. Haven't had that since Lady..."
"Kind of like having a mask– it can be nice when people don't know your face," Tikki said, and Adrien nodded in agreement.
"About time they left!"
"...My parents?" Marinette asked, raising an eyebrow at Plagg.
"Who else? The ghosts?" Plagg asked, stretching as they made their way through the house. "They're always around, so it's either hiding or being stuffed up in the attic– now there's nothing stopping me! The whole house for me to explore!"
She followed Plagg as he drifted into the kitchen with a rush of speed, and she was pretty sure that by 'explore' he meant exploring the fridge in search of cheese. However, it wasn't the fridge or even the pantry that cat rushed to, but rather the counter. Marinette watched as Plagg landed on an oven mitt that had been left near the window, curling up on it with a purr.
"Are you really just going to take a nap?"
"Hush, human," Plagg said, twisting as the rays from the window hit him. "You don't know what it's like seeing the perfect spot to sunbathe day after day, and being unable to claim it."
"You're such a cat," Marinette said, shaking her head, looking about the kitchen. "You know, it's been a while since I've been able to bake anything. How does a cake sound?"
"Disgusting," Plagg replied, opening up one eye. "And what are you talking about– you were helping out in the bakery yesterday."
Marinette was pulling out her father's apron. "That was for work, not the same as just making something for yourself." She tied the apron. "You know, if you help, I'll let you have a few bites..."
Plagg scoffed, closing his eyes as he got settled. "You can have the sugary monstrosity all to yourself, don't you worry."
"What a shame," Marinette said in a far off voice, though Plagg only let out a snort at her tone. "And here I was thinking about making a cheesecake..."
A smirk climbed on her face as she saw a pair of green eyes snap open. For a moment Plagg didn't say anything, his voice quiet as he spoke. "A what cake?"
"A cheesecake," Marinette said, pulling out a few bowls and a pan. "It's been a while since I've made one and I figured you might want to try it, but if you don't that's fine. I'll just share it with Mom and Papa when they get back."
She glanced back at Plagg, whose mouth was part-way open, eyes wide as they always were when cheese was mentioned. "...I'm your kwami. You can't withhold food from me."
"You have plenty of cheese in the fridge, I'm not keeping anything from you," Marinette replied, opening a cupboard. "But if you really want some, you're welcome to help."
"...I can't."
Marinette paused, startled as she heard Plagg's quiet voice. She pulled the cupboard door back slightly, looking at him. He was sitting up on the pot-holder now, the sun on his back as he stared at her. She couldn't read the expression on his face, the kwami just a black void with those bright green eyes. No snarky comeback on how he needed his sleep, or how could she starve her poor kwami– just that emerald stare.
"What do you mean you can't?" Marinette finally asked.
"I'm Destruction," Plagg replied, an ear twitching. "I can't make a cake, I'd just ruin it."
Marinette put a hand on her hip. "Well, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Marinette said. "Like Papa says, anyone can cook with the right guidance. Get over here and I'll show you."
"Kid, I'm not just destructive– I'm Destruction," Plagg said, drifting up into the air. "My energy, my essence, it's made to destroy. I can't make anything but maybe a batch of bad luck."
She didn't have a reply, because she didn't know how to reply– because there was nothing light or joking about Plagg's tone. It sounded too sure, resigned. As if just stating an obvious fact when his words felt like they should be a cheeky reply. Again she just looked at him, and the kwami let out a long sigh.
"I dunno what you're expecting," he muttered. "But if it's help, I can't give it to you."
Then he curled back up on his oven mitt, tail wrapped close to his body as he turned away from her, silent. She could only stare at the kwami, who had gone still as he laid in the sun. His posture wasn't relaxed as it normally was when he slept, but a stiffness to it as he sat there curled up. Marinette slowly sat down the bag of sugar onto the counter, not quite sure of what she should do.
After a moment of thought she turned on a heel, walking out of the kitchen, steps hurried. She wasn't looking forward to the climb all the way up to her room, especially since she had just come down, but her mind had already fixated on a plan. She threw her trapdoor open as she headed up the many steps, immediately heading towards the box of her old toys that she kept around for memories and Manon. She pulled it out into the open, digging through the collection of miscellaneous objects, and after a minute she wondered if she still had it.
She found it near the bottom, a small baker doll her grandfather had apparently sent her when she was born, worn from years of play; but it had just what she was looking for on it. She carefully took off the doll, holding it in her hand as she turned once again to the trapdoor, heading down the stairs once more.
Plagg hadn't moved once she returned to the kitchen, still stiff, though an ear flicked in her direction as she headed into the kitchen. She went right over to him, dropping a cloth on his head.
"Wha–!" He cried, jumping up in surprise. He picked up the object from on top of him, holding it out with a crinkled nose. "What's this?"
"An apron," she replied. "Basic for anyone new to baking, unless you want flour all over your clothes... fur. Not that there's flour in cheesecake, but it doesn't matter. Try it on, I think it will fit you."
"I'm not wearing clothes," Plagg said, ears falling back. She replied by picking up the small apron, trying to loop it over his giant head– which didn't work with how big it was. She frowned, but not deterred, and Plagg hovered still in the air as she untied it to loop it about his neck. There was a triumphant smile on her face, carefully tying the toy apron into place, the Black Cat's expression never changing.
"Perfect!" Marinette declared. "Or as Crimson would say– purrfect."
Somehow his ears fell back even farther, and Marinette just giggled.
"Come on now," Marinette said. "We have some work to do if we want to get this done before Mom and Papa get home– will you grab the cream cheese from the fridge?"
"Marinette–"
"Grab a few actually, I'll need to dig out Papa's recipe, because I don't remember the exact measurements..."
"I'm just going to ruin your stupid cake!" Plagg cried, causing Marinette to pause, and she saw the small kwami huffing. "If you want someone to do this then you should've ended up with Tikki! I don't make things, I destroy them! Why are you so stubborn?"
"The stubborn one is you," Marinette said, and she headed over to the pantry. "But if you want to be M. Destruction, then you can be it. We'll make a graham cracker crust for this cake, and you can smash up the crackers– is that destructive enough for you?"
"...What?"
Marinette pulled out the box of graham crackers. "We need these smashed up into crumbs, can you do that?"
"...Yes?"
"Perfect." Marinette beamed, handing the box over to him. He carried it with ease despite it being so much larger than him. "Get it as small and fine as you can. Usually I'd use a food processor, but hey, I think Destruction incarnate should be able to reduce some crackers to basically dust, right?"
"...I helped kill off the dinosaurs because I was sick of them."
"Sounds like you should have no problem then. I'll just start melting some butter while you do that, then~"
Plagg stared at her, before drifting off towards the counter with the box of Graham crackers. Marinette could hear crunching behind her as she pulled out an old recipe book and a bowl, setting everything out on the counter. She turned around to go get the butter, only to find Plagg right behind her.
"Now what?" He asked, staring at her with those green eyes.
"It needs to be even pieces," Marinette said. "As fine as you can get them."
"Yeah?" Plagg said. "I may be Destruction, but I'm not Chaos. Now what do we do?"
Marinette made her way over to the counter where Plagg had gone, and found a box of shredded cardboard. None of the Graham cracker packets had been opened, but no longer were their neat little sheets of crackers tucked into the plastic packets, but instead they held what was basically Graham cracker powder.
"You did all of them...?"
"You said to smash them up."
"You did all of that that quickly?"
Plagg puffed up slightly. "I told you, kid, I'm Destruction– there's nothing slow about it! Except rusting. And erosion. And the aging of cheese." He let out a purr. "That's a very delicate process..."
"Um... why don't you grab the cream cheese now?" Marinette asked. "I'll start mixing the crust together..."
She wondered if there had been any point in getting Plagg an apron, because he didn't seem to care when anything got on his paws or face– so why would he with anything else? Not only would she have a kwami that would need to be cleaned up, but an entire kitchen as well.
"Hehehe!" Plagg cackled, holding a white sphere over his head.
"We only need three eggs, Plagg!"
"But smashing them is fun!"
"You're getting egg shells in the batter!" She snapped, which caused Plagg to pause. He then swooped down, an egg still tucked under one arm. He tapped a few pieces of shell that had gotten into the cream cheese mixture, which dissolved under his touch.
"There, all better," he said, flying back into the air, egg held overhead once more.
"The more eggs you add, the less like cream cheese it'll taste," Marinette said, causing the kwami to pause in consideration. He looked down at the bowl, then up at Marinette, and a grin spread over his face. "Plagg–"
She didn't get a chance to say anything– Plagg throwing the egg at the fridge. The shell shattered on impact, yolk and egg whites splattering across the surface of the fridge. Plagg let out a gleeful cackle, while Marinette stared at him.
"You get to clean that up."
"What? It's already a mess in here," Plagg said, gesturing to the kitchen around him with a cream cheese-covered paw. Sugar and flecks of sour cream littered the countertop, providing plenty of cleanup for once they actually got the cake into the oven. She saw Plagg eyeing the egg carton, and she was quick to snatch it up and make her way over to the fridge to tuck it away.
She turned back in time to see Plagg licking the spoon.
Marinette sighed, opening the drawer to grab another one. Cooking with Plagg... was chaotic to say the least. At first he had been reluctant, drifting back as she guided him. There was no rolling of eyes or signs, just the cat doing as he what he was told and watching her as she worked. Things had turned better once she had brought out the cream cheese, Plagg immediately sneaking bites whenever he could, and he had been enthusiastic upon seeing her mix things together, and had quickly taken to basically beating the ingredients together.
"Not too much," she warned him as he took the spoon from her to mix in the eggs. "We just want them barely incorporated, any more and the cake won't turn out how we want."
"Have you ever poked the yolks?" Plagg asked, jabbing the spoon into the batter. "They break and go everywhere– ha!"
She pulled out the Graham cracker crust, which was in a springform pan, crisp and looking nice. She doubled checked to make sure the oven was preheated, then went over the recipe one more time to make sure they had done everything right.
"We burn it again, right?" Plagg asked, slowly drifting down from above, blocking her view of the book.
"It's not burning," Marinette said. "We just baked the crust a little bit, and now we'll bake the whole cake."
"With fire," Plagg said. "In a box of heat. That's burning– you're just burning it to the precise amount you want."
She opened her mouth– but didn't have an argument for that. She glanced over at the bowl, where the mixture looked like it should for a cheesecake– though, granted, the rest of the kitchen was a lot messier than when it was she and her father making it. She brought the pan over to the bowl, a rubber spatula in hand.
"Dump it in!" Plagg cried before she could say a word, the kwami grabbing the edge of the bowl and pouring the mixture onto the crust. She jumped slightly, worried about it going everywhere, and was quick to stabilize the bowl with a hand, using the spatula to scrap out what stuck to the bottom.
She saw Plagg eyeing the bowl as she started spreading out the batter to smooth it out, and she rolled her eyes with a smile. "If you're fine with eating raw egg, then go for it."
"Heh!" Plagg grinned, diving into the bowl to get to lick the cream cheese mixture. She was pretty sure that at this rate Plagg was going to look more like a white cat than a black one.
"Okay," Marinette said, beaming. "I think this is ready for the oven."
Plagg peered out from the bowl. "Time to burn it?"
"Cook it."
"Burn," Plagg insisted, before pausing. "Why are you putting it in water?"
"You put it in a water bath while in the oven," Marinette explained, setting the cheesecake pan into a pan full of water.
"Why?" Plagg demanded. "I don't see you burning anything else like that."
"Cheesecake is more delicate," Marinette explained. "It helps with texture and with regulating the heat and stuff while it cooks. At least that's what Papa says. Open the oven for me, will you?"
Plagg zipped out of the bowl, black fur flecked with the batter, pulling the oven door open with a grunt. Marinette carefully carried the water bath and the cake over, the last thing she needed was for her clumsy self to make an appearance and spill everything everywhere– but the cake was able to make it in safely. She closed the door with a sigh, before going to set the timer.
"How long until we can eat it?" Plagg demanded.
"It will take about an hour to cook."
"What!"
"And then several more cool." Marinette grinned at him. "It's like you said earlier– cheese takes time to age. Just think of it like that."
"We did all this work just to have to wait to eat it?"
"Well, we have more work to do," Marinette replied, pointing to the fridge that was dripping with egg. "You have that to clean up, and then we have the kitchen."
Plagg crossed his arms. "I did not sign up for this."
"You did the moment you threw that egg, and you know it," Marinette said, heading towards the sink. "Come on, we can turn on some music."
"Turn on any of that ragged stone guy and I'll Cataclysm your phone."
"I was thinking Clara Nightingale, actually."
"...We're turning on Mozart," Plagg declared. "We did your baking, so we're actually going to listen to some proper music."
"I'd rather listen to something with lyrics."
"You're always pestering me about my past holders," Plagg replied. "So here's your chance– now turn on Symphony No. 41, and I'll clean off your fridge."
It wasn't until late in the afternoon that they were able to serve up their cheesecake. By that point Plagg had already gorged himself on some cheddar, had taken two naps, and gave Marinette an impromptu lesson on how classical music was inherently better than anything she listened to.
It was about an hour until she had to go meet Crimson for patrol, Marinette topping her cheesecake with blueberries, and Plagg's with some camembert cheese. The Black Cat was impatiently hovering over her shoulder, muttering how it didn't matter how it looked, and how food was for the mouth and not the eyes.
As soon enough the plate was pressed towards him, and the Black Cat wasted no time into digging into the cake. She had never thought that she could actually get the kwami to eat anything with sugar in it, but a loud, content purr filled the air as he pulled off chunks of cake with his paws.
"See," he said through a mouthful of cake. "If yer gonna eat 'omething sweet, you do it wif 'eese!"
"You're a riot," Marinette said, shaking her head. "But you like it, hmm?"
"Yeah?" Plagg asked, wiping his mouth. "What about it?"
"You said that you couldn't make a cake," Marientte said. "And you were wrong– we made a perfectly good cake."
The small cat paused.
"Do you think Crimson would like some?" Marinette asked. "I could bring him a slice for patrol. Granted, he'd probably have to eat it beforehand..."
"We have to bring two!" Plagg cried, and Marinette glanced at him. "Tikki! I gotta bring one to Tikki!"
"That's his kwami, right?"
"We have to bring a slice to Tikki too!" Plagg demanded, flying up in her face, his breath smelling of cake for once instead of cheese.
"Two slices for patrol, got it."
Plagg gave a nod, before drifting back towards his cake, taking another bit. "Put strawberries on it, that's her favorite fruit."
The next day at school, Plagg was quick to abandon his purse as class got settled, even with the rice bag inside still warm. He phased through the floor, making his way over towards Adrien's bag, drifting up inside. He was met with a collection of textbooks and tablets, and Plagg's nose crinkled. He much preferred the purse that Marinette had made for him– which wasn't littered with his holder's things. Plush things to sleep on, his cheese, and hours of time to waste.
"Plagg!" Tikki whispered in surprise as he found her in a corner, bundled in what seemed to be a hat of some kind, a package of mints next to her. "What are you doing here? What if someone sees you?"
"Did you get the cake?" Plagg asked, quivering in excitement.
"Adrien gave me my slice right after patrol," she said with a smile. "I was a bit suspicious with the 'cheese' part, but it was very good."
"I know, right?" Plagg said, a purr rumbling from him. "Me and my holder made it, Tikki– I made it!"
Tikki blinked, before smiling.
"Did you know that there's a lot of crushing things with baking?" He asked. "We had to smash up these crackers, and shatter the eggs, and beat them all together." He grinned. "Then we blast it with fire, and my kitten tries to make it sound all fancy by calling it 'cooking', heh– it's fire!"
He was purring at this point, before pausing.
"Of course it was only worth anything because there was cheese in it," Plagg said, tail swishing. "But yeah, it looks like there actually is an edible cake out there."
"I'm just surprised you settled for something so sweet."
"There was cheese in it, Sugar Cube," Plagg said, crossing his arms. "It would be a crime not to eat it– and cheese can be sweet! It's just when you drench every food with pure sugar that it loses its taste!"
"You know, most cats can't even taste sweetness."
"A trait I wish I could share with my mortal cousins," Plagg said with a sigh, pressing up against Tikki, before opening one eye. "The only sugar I care for is you, Sugar Cube."
Tikki let out a soft chirr, nuzzling up against Plagg. "You know you can't stay in here, if Adrien sees you, he'd have too many questions."
"I don't want him to see me," Plagg replied. "'Sides, class just started, we can spare a few minutes, can't we?"
She dragged down into the warmth of her cocoon of a hat, glowing a soft pink. "I don't mind a few minutes."
Plagg purred happily, curling up closer with his other half.
"Thanks for agreeing to film," Alya said excitedly as they headed down the street. "It will be much easier if I'm not worrying about the camera and just focusing on the interview." She let out a squeal. "I can't believe I actually found someone!"
"And they're okay with talking about it?" Marinette checked, keeping an eye out for the cafe Alya said they were going to meet the man at.
"Yeah, he's one of my blog's follower's great-grandfathers," Alya explained. "They got in contact with me when I made a post a while back, and we've been talking over phone and video call and such, but I wanted a proper interview for when I put everything together for my blog."
Alya's theory of Miraculous in World War II had gone on the backburner recently, at least in her discussions among their friends, so Marinette had been slightly surprised when she had called her up asking her to record the interview for her, in the final stages of putting everything she had found together for her theory– and being able to talk to someone who had been there would help support her theory a lot more.
"Here we are," Alya said as they turned a corner. "Come on, let's get inside before we freeze."
There was no snow on the ground, but that didn't stop the chill of winter from settling in. They both hurried up to the cafe, slipping inside. The warmth and the smell of coffee was nothing but welcoming, and as Marinette let out a sigh Alya was already scanning the booths, settling on tucked near a window.
"That's him," Alya said, nodding towards him, linking arms. "Come on."
The man looked up as they approached, smiling. "Alya Cesaire, correct?"
"Yes sir," she said. "And you're Clovis, right?"
"Aye," he said, taking a sip of coffee. "It's nice to be back in Paris, been quite a while, actually."
Alya's eyes widened as they sat across from him. "You didn't come all the way out here just for–"
Clovis laughed. "I came to visit family, and made some time to do this, don't worry." He smiled. "My great-granddaughter speaks very highly of your blog, and sent me a lot of articles about what's happening here." He got a far off look in his eyes. "Must say, my wife didn't believe what was happening when the news first reached us."
"But you did?" Alya asked, sitting up straighter.
Clovis' eyes gleamed. "That's why we're here, isn't it?"
Alya passed her phone over to Marinette, which was already turned to the camera. She scooted back towards the window so she could get both Clovis and Alya in frame. Once she was sure it was steady, she pressed record. Alya was just reaching for her bag for the questions she had printed out, but Marinette knew she could edit out anything she needed to.
"Hi, everyone!" Alya said, smiling at the camera. "BeetleBlogger here, and today we have an interview with M. Clovis here, the great-grandfather of one of our very own viewers!"
"Hello," Clovis said warmly, giving the camera a wrinkled smile.
"He was a member of the La Résistance, and it's a real honor to have him here on the BeetleBlog."
The interview picked up fairly quickly from there, and it was clear that Alya and Clovis were somewhat familiar with each other as they began talking, the two easily falling into an easy conversation. Marinette quickly found herself liking Clovis, the older man cheery, with a warm smile.
It was easy to get lost in his stories as he talked, especially about some of the inner workings of the French Resistance, mostly made of small cells of people scattered across France. It wasn't like the armies they learned about in school, instead, all sorts of people banding together to fight against a larger power.
"I think my biggest question is about the fog," Alya said as the conversation pressed on. "I was looking at the records, they mostly seemed to be centralized around Paris– but all of the dates aligned with Resistance activity, in many places across France. Did you ever see this for yourself?"
"Ah, le brouillard des miracles," Clovis said. "At least that's what we called it back in the day."
"The miracle fog," Alya echoed. "So this fog, nothing about it seemed natural."
Clovis chuckled. "If you have ever been in fog, you know what it feels like. It's moist, you can taste the water in the air. It clings to your clothes, fogs up your glasses." He smiled, tapping his. "Le brouillard des miracles... it was none of that, nothing natural about it. It was like it wasn't even there." He leaned forward. "Nothing in the air, you couldn't even feel it. When you breathed in the air it might as well have been as dry as a desert."
"Woah," Alya said.
"Wasn't smog, either– that was always a common answer others gave," Clovis said. "No smell about it, easy to breathe when around us– though it never touched us."
"What do you mean?" Marinette asked , before realizing as the cameraman she probably shouldn't be saying anything, but Alya didn't seem to mind.
"The fog would surround us," Clovis explained. "Curl about us on all sides, cloak out the skies so we couldn't be seen from above, but it never did ever touch us. It would move along with us as we went, sheltering us, but the edges of the fog always did stay a ways away from us."
"Did you guys ever try to touch it?" Alya asked, leaning forward.
Clovis smiled. "I knew a few that tried. It would always drift away from us, and we never tried much after that. It hid us from unsavory eyes: we could man escape routes, carry information from place to place– if the fog wouldn't let us touch it, then we wouldn't push it."
"And you have no idea what was behind it?"
Clovis said. "I've heard many things. Some said God was watching over us, some suspected the same force as the creatures, some say it was linked to Húlí. The fog would often cover him and others like it did us."
Alya perked up. "Húlí– that was a name that came up a lot in my research. Pfau, Amber– along with a few others."
Marintte frowned, the name sounding familiar, though she couldn't place it.
Clovis took a sip of his coffee. "Ah, yes, I can see how those three would catch your attention– the three that no one has ever seen."
"Wait, never seen?" Alya said, both stunned and looking slightly crestfallen– because if there weren't any witnesses, those accounts could lose credibility when it came to any of their involvement in her theory.
He nodded. "As I said, Húlí was always within the fog whenever he came around. Never as much as what would surround the rest of us, but it kept him hidden– no one ever said they saw more than a silhouette– but what they described always varied. Personally, I heard from him three times, always in the fog. As for Amber, she might as well have been a ghost– no one ever saw her, but rather the remains of what she did. Impacts with no shelling or debris left behind, collapsed structures with no hint of what caused it, enemy tanks being blasted away with no warning. I heard her speak on one occasion, but she was hidden by the fog. Both of them brought information to us, though– and never was any of it false."
"And Pfau?"
"Only ever heard about him secondhand," Clovis replied. "I don't even know if he was a 'him', but all we heard of him either came by word of mouth from Húlí and Amber, or from others in the Resistance that spoke to those two. Pfau... Pfau was a strange entity."
"'Entity'?" Alya asked, leaning forward.
"You noticed that you could never find more about Húlí, Amber, and Pfau than just mentions of them within reports and papers we published back in the day, correct?" Clovis asked, and Alya nodded. "That was because outside of the Resistance, they might as well not exist. Officials... they wanted 'facts'. Cold hard data, not tales of fog and magic blasts or of unearthly creatures– all reports of them were dismissed." He chuckled. "Sometimes even I wondered if it was real, but when these akumas started attacking, it just proved there are more forces out there than what we know."
"By creatures... do you mean the monsters?" Alya asked.
"Aye," Clovis said, leaning back. "You asked me quite a bit about them when we first started talking. I'm afraid I have only seen one of them close up, though– but I heard plenty of them from my comrades." He eyed Alya. "You believe that they are the same as these 'akumas' that have been plaguing the city?"
She nodded eagerly, and Clovis frowned.
"Well, I am afraid they do not match what I have seen from the videos on your blog," Clovis replied, letting out a long breath. "They be alike, but so different. The creature I saw... it was like something from a nightmare."
"So are akumas," Alya offered, but he just shook his head.
"The creatures took on many shapes," Clovis said. "They were never humanoid– only animalistic or monstrous in shape. They did not speak, they just acted, as if driven by some primal force." The older man closed his eyes, shuddering for a moment. "The one I saw we just called Loup."
"Wolf?"
Clovis gave a ghost of a smile. "If wolves be the size of a horse, then that's what it was. Pitch black fur and blazing blue eyes, it was quite a beast!" He gave a mirthless laugh. "No blood from the wounds when bullets would hit it, and the shadows seemed to curl around it as it struck." He lowered his voice. "We called them monsters, because that's what they were. It was not like your akumas, a human underneath, why they're raging known to all. When the creatures fell, they would vanish– become a mere wisp in the breeze."
Both Alya and Marinette were silent as they listened to him talk.
"I will not recount exactly what the fight with Loup was like," Clovis muttered. "You two are just kids, and I don't wish to remember. But until Amber arrived, we could not defeat it." He tapped his fingers against his coffee mug, a slight twitch to his hands. "She or Húlí would always show up when the creatures appeared, sometimes together, and when the creatures were defeated, they would always tell us the same thing."
"Which was?"
"That the creatures were created and sent by Pfau," Clovis replied. "And to avoid them if possible."
"Created and sent by the Peacock..." Alya muttered.
"Never saw hair or hide of Pfau, or even heard a voice," Clovis continued. "Only word of mouth from Húlí or Amber. Like this Monarch, akumas, and heroes; there seems to be something behind it, but they cannot be the same. Your akumas leave their victims behind, but the creatures left nothing."
"Húlijīng!" Marinette suddenly blurted out in realization, causing both Clovis and Alya to pause, the latter giving her a questioning look. "I knew I had heard 'húlí' before– húlijīng, Mom used to tell me stories about them. They're spirits from Chinese folklore, shapeshifters."
"Okay?" Alya asked, looking somewhere between confused and interested, and Marinette grinned at her.
"They weren't just spirits, Alya, they were fox spirits. The nine-tailed fox– húlí means fox."
Alya's eyes widened at this realization, her expression instantly lighting up. "That's another animal! Fox, Peacock, Butterfly, Ladybug, and Cat!"
Clovis raised an eyebrow. "An animal? I never knew that, I always thought it to be a name..." A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Citrine Húlí was always a mysterious one, though. I am not surprised to learn that he gave us a title rather than a name."
Marinette's heart thumped. "Citrine Húlí?"
"Aye, what he called himself."
Mairnette shoved Alya's phone into her hands, who let out a slight cry of protest– as this did mess up her shot. Excitement was pulsing through her as she pulled up her own phone, searching through her videos for the small clip she had saved from Alya's blog. Her friend was giving her a confused look, but when she saw the look in Marinette's eyes, she knew that she was onto something. The camera was turned towards her as she pulled up the clip of Monarch from the battle with Cameraman, holding it out for Alya to listen to.
"I saw what you did yesterday– impressive power, though it makes me wonder why Citrine would pick a Black Cat that can't even control their Destruction."
Alya's eyes widened.
"Citrine Húlí," Marinette said in excitement. "Citrine is a gemstone– so Citrine Fox, the Orange Fox."
"Just like Crimson Beetle," Alya whispered, a huge grin on her face, and she let out a squeal. "Marinette– you're the absolute best! That's a direct connection! A solid link between La Résistance and Monarch's attack– an actual connection!" She was trembling in excitement, and she threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug. "Marinette, you don't know what this means– this goes from just a theory to something with actual connection!"
"Heh," Marinette said, thought she wasn't sure how to feel. They learned nothing about the Butterfly Miraculous potentially being used in the past– but it seemed that the Peacock and the Fox were there as well. The Peacock, though... Plagg had said it represented Psyche– but what Clovis had described didn't sound much like it, either. And Alya had also run into the mention of the Butterfly in the German document, but nothing of the sort was in Clovis' stories...
Answers, but still just as many questions.
All Marinette knew, though, was that Citrine had a role both in the past, and when it came to her Miraculous. Citrine was the reason why she had it, and Monarch knew of him. Soon, it wouldn't just be Monarch, though; Alya would have her whole article and theory to publish to all of Paris as well...
'The Butterfly is too dangerous, but the Peacock has been successful.' Those were the exact words Alya had found, in the German document. If Pfau was indeed the Peacock, then his attacks were indeed successful on the Resistance...
But what about the Butterfly? They considered it 'dangerous', so had it been a German enemy, and therefore a French ally? Or just a member of the Allies? A wild card all of their own? If there was mention of it among the German records, then why not the French?
"Amber," Alya said after a moment, looking towards Clovis. "Amber, that's kind of like a gemstone too, right?"
Clovis frowned. "Yes, I suppose."
"So what if that was a title as well, and not a name?" Alya asked. "Was that shortened as well? Was she linked to an animal?"
Clovis' frown deepened. "Not that I recall, but as I said I only encountered her once, and it was so long ago..." He shook his head. "You could ask others, but I don't know if she ever told us anything more."
Could Amber be the Butterfly then? But the powers didn't seem to line up...
Alya nodded. "Clovis, you don't know how much this helped us," she looked down at her phone, ending the recording. "I can't thank you enough– both of you. Thank you."
Clovis was silent for a moment, before pulling out a small notecard and a pen. Alya watched as he took a moment to scrawl down a few names, before passing it across the cafe table for her to take. Marinette looked over her shoulder, and saw what appeared to be a list of names.
"Those are the names of some of the men and women in my cell," he said. "The ones that were still alive, last I heard. A few others as well. If you can find a way to contact them, and they're willing to, they might be able to tell you more."
Alya clutched the paper tightly, like it was pure gold.
"Do be careful, though, young lady," Clovis continued, and she looked up at him. "I came here to talk about a story I couldn't tell without scoffs of disbelief, at least not until these akumas came– and to help you with your theory. But like you said, I think you're walking away with something a bit more solid than that. People will pay attention to that."
"I know," Alya said, holding back a squeal. "This is big, this is going to be something big for me."
"Exactly," Clovis replied. "And when something catches attention, it will catch all sorts of attention." He nodded towards the paper he had given her. "Find some others from the Resistance, then you'll have more than just my word to support what I told you. Credit to hold up what you found." He drained the last of his coffee. "Finally, there are people that like the spotlight. If something catches attention, there might be some that make similar claims. So for your own sake, make sure you don't jump on the first things you hear. Someone might have their own tales of these creatures, but it could either be something else that could support your finds– or plain lies. Look deeply before you accept anything."
Alya nodded slowly. "I understand, sir. I will be careful." She smiled. "And thank you so much again, this... this was amazing." Her hand tightened around her phone. "I have a lot to put together, but this is going to be worth it."
Clovis nodded, rising to his feet. "And I wish you the best of luck."
