Chapter Text
White ash fell from the sky like pure flakes of snow.
If she didn’t know any better she would have believed it was.
It wasn’t.
With every flake that touched the ground the earth quaked, threatening to break apart into pieces.
“Alya,” her mother whispered, leaning against the doorframe, her lips pursed, “get away from the window.”
Startling, Alya turned, “Yeah, sorry.”
She shuffled over to her mother, shoulders weighed heavy, “When do you think it’ll stop?”
Sighing, Mme. Césaire gazed out the window, “You know how it is darling, it’ll fall for an hour or so and then the cure will fix everything.”
Some got caught outside, the second the ash touched them it destructive power began to tear them apart, a slow plague that ate away at them, people whispered that the victims never forgot, that the cure couldn’t erase their memory without the black cat at the ladybug’s side.
Alya and her family were lucky, somehow none of them had ever been outside anytime it began.
The screams had stopped over an hour ago, when the last of those stuck outside had disintegrated into white ash.
It didn’t really matter, they would only be brought back by the cure and then more would die with the next fall.
It was only an hour later that Alya found herself alone once more, she stood outside on her fire escape, her long ombré hair spilling across her shoulders in curly waves.
A thump of boots against metal alerted her to company.
His hair was bleach white as ever, his eyes a frozen blue and that ancient destructive power still oozed off him in dark globs that sent terror deep into her heart.
“Chat,” she whispered.
“Alya,” he muttered.
Hazel eyes scanned his figure, searching for any sign of injury.
“You’re okay.”
He nodded, “I’m okay.”
Rushing forward, Alya enveloped him in a tight hug.
He was cold to the touch, yet he melted into her arms his own wrapping around her firmly.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, before pulling away.
“Why?”
He sighed, his shoulders dropping, “For everything!”
”You don’t have to be.”
Turning away from her, he whispered, “I don’t?.”
“You don’t”