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Nathalie found Emilie in the observatory, circling a human silhouette. As soon as the lift's door opened, Emilie stopped and the shade disappeared. She was standing right in front of the rose window; shadows cloaked her whole body, making her both the part and the centre of the vast room the dim street lights could not illuminate.
But Nathalie knew her from memory. Long dress, light blue at the shoulder, transitioning into aquamarine and then into green. She could even recall the details, like the golden trim at the end of the coattail; it resembled peacock feathers when it swept the floor as Emilie walked. And then there were the aquamarine and deep blue ribbons plaited into her golden hair.
Emilie wore unlimited power as others wore jewellery. But right now, she was frozen like a doe facing headlights.
“Was it that bad?” Nathalie asked, throat dry.
Emilie turned towards the window—away from her.
"She looked like a mannequin with a painted face. I just don't understand."
"Why do you want to make a human-like sentimonster from your imagination?"
"I just want to be able to create something." She let out a bitter chuckle. "Gabriel can sketch a person and clothes from nothing. He can create from nothing."
It almost sounded like Emilie envied Gabriel. But that was impossible. She was Emilie Agreste.
"You’re an actress. You create emotions. You’re a natural at creating what you want to use with your Miraculous.”
The following silence was cutting. She should not have used acting as an anchor, not so soon after the film’s failure. Nathalie reached out with an arm, desperate to fix her mistake, although Emilie was too far away.
“And then there’s me! I’m not creative at all, but that’s okay."
"You? You can solve any problem with zero resources. I like to think that Gabriel and I complement each other just enough to be one functioning person. But you do that on your own." Emilie’s shoulders tensed. "Maybe that’s it! Maybe I can't animate what I can't understand."
Nathalie's heart skipped a beat. She must have misinterpreted Emilie’s words. Emilie searched for perfection and as far as Nathalie was concerned, she knew enough of it to parade with it. She was captivating even when she had shown her the power of creation laid in her palm, her smile soothing Nathalie's unuttered fears. On days like this, she wondered how Emilie could make it seem so real.
"Maybe you hold perfection in too high esteem." She looked into the shadows where the sentimonster was just minutes ago. "Can I look at it once?"
"They’re abominations,” Emilie responded, defeated. “I feel going mad just by looking at them. I can't imagine what they would do to you."
So the creature was indeed inspired by her.
"I'm sorry, Nathalie. I didn’t think that you would come here." Emilie swung around and closed the remaining distance between them with a single slam of her leg that shook the ground. Nathalie took a small step back. She wanted to take another but reminded herself that it was only Emilie.
From what she could tell, Emilie was examining her face. "Why are you here?"
“Monsieur Agreste is worried.”
Restless was a more fitting word. But she would never tell that to Emilie.
But Emilie knew that without saying. Her sardonic chuckle made Nathalie shiver.
“He’s worried about Fashion Week, not about me.”
Nathalie bit the tip of her tongue. She knew about every bump in Emilie and Gabriel’s marriage. She had heard most of them.
She always felt like a speck of dust whenever Emilie and Gabriel quarrelled. It was a fight between two people who could read emotions, and it showed. Their words were scorching, born from invisibility, from feelings they felt and Nathalie had no way to catch, and both Emilie and Gabriel used them only to burn holes into the skin of the other. She still shuddered at the velocity and the impact, and just how blind and mortal she felt.
“He regrets what he said,” she answered, weakly.
“He doesn’t.” Emilie’s anger blew away Nathalie’s attempt to console her. “Where is Adrien now?”
“In bed.”
That stole the power and sarcasm from her voice.
“Already?”
"It's eleven in the evening, Madame."
Nathalie immediately regretted her detached, matter-of-fact response. She knew she was treading on unstable ground. She had realised long ago that so much as hinting similarities between Emilie and Gabriel brought only trouble.
It was not her place to make Emilie feel it anyway. She had helped Adrien in silence, which was already more meddling with her employers’ life than she liked.
“I know what you’re feeling.” Emilie’s tone was devoid of resentment. Still, Nathalie’s gaze dropped.
"My apologies."
Emilie’s touch on the side of her neck gave her a start and for a heartbeat, she wanted to run.
“I’m grateful.”
Emilie’s touch was tender like a lover's show of affection. She could have easily caused pain, but she did not. It stunned Nathalie and defeated her rationality.
“I don’t know what I would do without you,” Emilie muttered against her cheek.
Emilie’s kiss was just as gentle as her touch, but it deepened into passion when Nathalie returned it. Emilie was like the sweetness of fruits in summer evenings—no matter how much Nathalie devoured, it only made her hungrier and thirstier. Her power left her and Emilie’s hand tightened around her, her fingers sinking into her flesh. It was so painless even now.
Emilie’s constraint was fascinating.
“I only feel alive because of you,” Emilie whispered.
A huff of air left Nathalie’s mouth.
It was a mistake to come here.
She only wanted to help. This was not her intention at all. She should not have kissed back. In a world where there was no Miraculous, maybe she would not have kissed back.
One glance at Emilie was enough to melt the lie away.
Emilie framed her face with her hands. Nathalie caught a dim flash in her eyes.
“All I’m asking is that you stay the way you are. Maybe it will help me remain myself too.”
Nathalie did not answer because how could she respond to what she could not understand? But she would remember and do as Emilie asked.