Chapter Text
“-A new record for the city of love. Meteorologists put the upcoming rainfall at over 900 millimeters, breaking a record rainfall handily. They can't place why such a record breaking rainfall is coming down now, but some theories believe-” Mireillie was saying on the television, before Tom huffed, changing from news to something more interesting to listen to, letting the music ring through the bakery as he called up to his daughter.
“Marinette!” He called, hearing her scrambling to prepare for the day. “Bring an extra umbrella! This storm is going to be a doozy! I don't want you running home in such bad weather just because it broke or you loaned it to a friend!”
Hearing a shout of affirmation from his kind, but unfortunately a bit scattered, daughter, Tom went back to rolling out his dough, considering what kind of treats would work best for a wet, dreary day like today.
“Something warm. Maybe with a bit of spice in it.” He mused, tilting his head. “Maybe some of Sabine’s dumplings?” He muttered, thinking of his beautiful wife’s cooking. It wasn't practical, but a man could dream.
Letting the heat rolling off the buns steam up their bakery, filling it with the warmth and passion his wife would have put into them. Making a place for weary bones to rest, and hungry bellies to be filled.
Smiling, he continued his work, only looking out the window to his family home once or twice more to watch the clouds, a small unease settling into him.
It would be a storm for the ages, he knew. He could feel it in his bones.
Might be he had to close up early today to bring Marinette home after classes…
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“-unless you can do it inside a building, not out in the open, we are going to have to cancel it today!” Nathalie said into the phone, brisk and businesslike, but with a hint of anger in her voice as she moved around Adrien’s schedule for the day. “You will not be putting his health at risk for your inspiration. Now, I will be rescheduling it for some time next week. If you can't find a way to make it work as an indoor photoshoot, you're going to have to wait. Reach back out to me when you find which one is preferable.” She said, before hanging up.
A bit rude, but she was tired of dealing with fools. How any of these people rubbed two braincells against each other long enough to string a sentence together, she would never know.
“Placide.” Nathalie called, earning a grunt from the large man who was waiting in the next room to take Adrien to school. “Currently, it seems Adrien will be coming straight back here after school today. Please keep this in mind, and that it can change, but if I do not contact you before it's time for him to come home, then feel free to do so.” She said, hearing another, more pleased grunt from the man.
She didn't tend to enjoy how overworked Adrien was at times, too, but the brand must be maintained, and even if it wore on him, he seemed to enjoy his more physical activities.
“Hmm… Perhaps it's time to rearrange his climbing wall again. a new challenge might help him relax after a day of being used like a mannequin.” She mused to herself, a small smile on her lips as she was already planning out how to arrange that, even as she heard Adrien run down the stairs, ready and eager to head to school as she smiled, hearing Placide get up and move towards the door to escort him to the car.
Yes, Adrien had been having a rough time of it lately, with Mrs. Bourgeois falling ill as she was. He deserved a new way to express his energy.
Perhaps he would enjoy cycling? A workout bike to test would be for the best. Then, perhaps later, she could get an actual bike for him. One of the sportier models.
Smiling to herself at the fantasy, she got back to work making sure both father and son’s days were managed, and ready for them.
It wouldn't do for them to make a mistake.
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The rain was a torrent now. A curtain, threatening to bury her in her own box. She curled up tighter, barely finding the energy to do so as she sat there, huddled, barely enough energy to shiver as she sat there.
Her clothes were tattered, and rotten, actively molding in some places, and already falling apart in others. Her hair, once so well cared for, now hung in clumps and mangy strands, looking more like the world's ugliest rat nest than anything that should be on a human's head. Once beautiful black locks, the color of ink, now so filthy and scattered it looked more like mud.
But she didn't care.
She didn't care about anything anymore.
She didn't remember how long ago her life had fallen apart. Didn't remember where she was then, or where she was now. She didn't remember how long it had been.
Her sorrow was so overwhelming, she didn't even remember her own name, drowning as deep as she was in its depths.
She felt, more than heard, as the rain above her finally intensified enough to break her box, the roof over her head breaking open to let the waterfall in, crashing over her, pinning her tattered clothes to her nearly skeletal body, flattening her hair, and blinding her eyes in the depths of its flow.
She didn't care enough to move.
Let the water wash her away, like the sorrow had her name and memories. She was faceless. Nameless. Just another ignored existence in the city of love.
‘But what if you didn't have to be?’
The voice was insidious, worming it way into her like the last ember of a dying flame, seeking to kindle it anew in its dark hatred.
It settled into the girl’s empty heart, and spoke words into her ear she could barely understand.
‘Your sorrow is deeper than any sea, more all consuming than any hurricane, and as dark as the clouds above you.’ the voice continued, making the girl’s eyes slowly, blankly, look at the sky as if on an instinct. To see the swirling black mass of clouds above, so dark that not even the barest light could be seen. The clouds only visible by reflecting the light of the streetlamps below.
It was as if a massive comforter, black as ink, had appeared over Paris, and was dropping all the water in the world onto its head.
Onto her head.
‘I will help you lighten your load. I will help you find people who can help. And all you have to do, is bring me the Ladybug and Black cat Miraculous.’ The voice said, putting the images in her mind.
Jewelry. Pretty jewelry… It could get her a few days of food…
Her stomach grumbled and roared, empty from days of starvation after the last person who had found her in their dumpster had nearly broken her leg. She couldn't risk scavenging from there again. Not that she could find the energy to try.
Could she find the energy to try now?
‘I will even give you that, Deluge. All you have to do, is agree.’
And so, the barest ember of that flame, sparked the tiniest hint of a fire.
Just enough for a grunt to escape the poor creature’s battered throat, and taking all the energy she had to think of herself as anything but a creature from her as the black energy engulfed her.
And the storm above raged ever on, growing worse, and worse, and worse.