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“Chat, would you mind taking care of the fire, please?”
When he doesn’t give his usual, cooperative response, Marinette pauses from closing the curtains around the cottage windows. Looking over her shoulder, her deep indigo irises widen upon catching Chat Blanc slumping against the mantle of the hearth.
His arm lays on the flat surface of the stone hood over the fireplace, unaffected from the heated material. He rests his forehead on his arm, drilling his gaze into the orange flames crackling on freshly charred logs. His bleach white hair drapes over his face as he pensively chews on his lower lip, a hint of one of his fangs glinting in the warm glow.
Although from outward appearances, the man seems to be relaxed, Marinette has known him long enough to know better. She takes note of the subtle way the identical feline ears atop his head strain forward along with the silent distress shadowing across his demeanor. Additional to the vague tension rippling in his muscles, defined beneath his garments. Despite the vivid ivory permeating his velvet mask framing his eyes to the elegant outfit trimmed with intricate embellishments, his entire aura radiated apprehension.
“Chat?” Marinette calls to him.
One of his triangular ears flick in her direction. His head shortly follows reflexively, leaving him to blink himself out of his trance. The disc-shaped pupils shrink thoughtfully amongst a sea of icy blue. His pale pink lips pursed in contemplation, tensing his square jawline that sloped into a hearty neck before disappearing under his clothes that hugged his muscular bulk comfortably.
The bluenette witch cleared her throat, attempting to draw her attention away from the walking temptation that stood before her.
Right! She had a job to do. It didn’t matter how the warm glow from the crackling flames illuminated Chat’s ivory waistcoat and slacks, outlining the natural curve of his waist tapering into his hips. Nor did it matter the snap, crackle, and pop of the kindling danced floating embers around him, smoldering molten within his gaze that dried up Marinette’s throat. Nope, she shook her head, swallowing thickly. Work. They have an important ritual to do today.
However, she stiffened, catching something about Chat Blanc’s appearance that made her freeze. Darting between his eyes, her brows wrinkled in growing concern. Did he…? Did he always have such dark circles?
Softly, she asks, “Chat…? You okay?”
Gracefully pushing off from the hearth, Chat straightens. Squaring his broad shoulders, he glances down into the yellow-orange brilliance of the fireplace. Hovering his palm over it, he feels the heat lick his hand. It wouldn’t harm him, it couldn’t; as ordinary fire is nothing compared to the ferocity of his daemonic fire. He frowns, wondering if it’s even worth it at this point to share his hesitation at today’s ritual.
Detailing the beauty of his profile, the contrasting shadows from the fire’s radiance deepened the circles beneath his eyes. Her worries revolved around the topic of today’s summoning; it had taken nearly two weeks for her to gather the correct supplies along with tracking celestial cosmic bodies and preparing herself for this particular sunrise. Chat Blanc had been informed of the intention for the ritual, and while he voiced his objections he didn’t outwardly try to deter Marinette otherwise.
Marinette wondered if he fretted more than he let on. Had he… lost sleep over this?
Stepping away from the window, Marinette crossed the short distance. The hardwood floor creaked slightly from the movement, fading the closer she approached the feline daemon. Once her hand rested on his forearm, a wave of fluttering warmth bloomed up his arm, tingling from his shoulder and down his chest. His heart stuttered in response, immediately answering her point of contact. Through the lightest and most innocent touches, Marinette somehow knew to delightfully send his blood buzzing.
Her simple and pure touch jerked him out of his thoughts again. She stood, several inches shorter than him – barely crossing over his chest. Her dark hair fell in natural ringed curls, styled with twin buns atop her head, oftentimes reminding Chat of mouse ears. So much so, he had given her the endearing nickname “Little Mouse” early in their magickal relationship. The rest of her locks cascaded down her shoulders, a sapphire luster gleaming from her hair and contrasting the pink freckles peppered across her cheeks and nose.
There had been many times Chat had counted her freckles with his kisses. He wanted nothing more than to halt the ritual’s preparations and drag Marinette back up to their loft to rest for the remainder of the morning. His eyes narrowed towards the window, glaring at the in-between transition of evening and sunrise – a slim gap to summon today’s entity.
Centering his attention on the precious witch in front of him, Chat sighed; already feeling defeated but he has to try one more time.
“Are you sure about this, Mari?” his voice rolled in a low timbre, accented with soft edges of concern. “There’s no telling if one may respond to your summons. And if they do, you may not like the answer. Fluff can be… unpredictable at best.”
His words cemented Marinette’s suspicions about his demeanor. Chat Blanc had been clear about his objections; not about summoning other daemonic entities to commune – rather Fluff specifically. He had explicitly explained the creature in full detail, giving Marinette a deeper insight than what her studies had provided. Fluff was unstable and spoke gibberish, as their reality converged outside and within time.
This meant answers were vague or didn’t make sense. As their flow of time was both existent and nonexistent, this left their guiding compass to be morally ambiguous. Fluff could be helpful and provide an advantageous vision of the future or – depending on their mood – show insight for something menial and insignificant.
According to Chat, Fluff fell into a plane of true neutral. Neither good nor bad, orderly or disorderly.
Marinette gently squeezes his arm in reassurance. “Of course I am.” She hides her nerves behind a smile. “I’m not doing this for me. But for the kingdom! If there’s something I can do to help the Lahiffe monarchy then I’ll be doing my part as a resident under their reign.”
A swell of warmth sweeps through Chat Blanc’s chest, filling him with fuzzy, velvet walls. His expression softens into an affectionate smirk, continuously amazed he had been lucky enough to be bound to a magnificent witch like Marinette. To think he had struggled through eight centuries of previous Masters and Mistresses to be able to meet Marinette; a witch like no other.
Her capacity to always help those around her without asking for anything in return is what had Chat rethink his prior experiences and reflect on what he thought he understood about humans. It had taken a while to lower his guard around her, haunted by the abuse and manipulation of his previous owners. Marinette never pushed or coerced, instead she supported his independence and made room in her life to accommodate him rather than try to coerce him into subjugation.
“And I’m just doing my part as your familiar,” he says. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulls her to his chest. He purrs, “I wouldn’t be a very good purr- tner if I didn’t look out fur you.”
Marinette’s heart skipped a beat, leaning slightly into his torso. His ears twitch, catching the sound of her twitterpated palpitations. Hoping to muffle the sound in Chat’s heightened hearing, she slides her hand down his forearm, lacing her fingers through his. Lifting onto her tippy toes, she presses a chaste kiss on the bulb of his nose.
“I appreciate that, kitty.” Her cheeks flush red when she feels his arm tighten around her waist. “But, I trust you. I know you’ll protect me if things get out of hand with Fluff.”
You’re damn right, Chat wanted to say; however refrained. Between his familiar contracts, floating in the daemonic realm that existed within the mortal realm unseen, Chat had only come into contact with Fluff a couple of times. Both encounters were brief and left his mind reeling with distorted conversations – hopping and spiraling events, turning words inside out. Conversing with Fluff later feels like a fevered hallucination. And Chat Blanc had the benefit of comprehending Fluff better than humans due to their shared daemonic nature.
There’s no telling how Marinette may react later when she tries to process meeting with Fluff. He would do whatever he could to protect her from losing a portion of her sanity. He had no qualms about attacking another daemon if it meant defending his witch, the love of his life.
“I’ll always protect you, ma souris.” His arm unwinds from her waist, tracing the points of his claws under the line of her jaw, drawing a soft moan. He rumbles,“You’re mine~ Anyone that does anything untoward, daemon or not, will have to answer to me.”
His nose trails along the column of her neck, stirring the earlier attraction Marinette felt, simmering low in her pelvis. She had no clue she was capable of being aroused at sunrise, but Chat Blanc always left her gasping in surprise. His lips brush over her pulse point, quickening its rhythm. Drumming loudly in her ears. A lustful haze threatened to descend over her mind, half tempting her to discard the entire ritual and drag Chat upstairs – he’ll hardly protest.
“Chaaat…” she whimpers, melting under his affections.
“Mrrow?” he innocently chirps. Followed by nipping her earlobe.
Fuck, his breath is hot against her skin. She wants. She wants so badly.
Ignoring the aching need building between her legs, Marinette shakily pushes him back, much to her regret. Obediently, Chat complies, abiding by the demand from her hand. Chat would never force himself on her. Inhaling air to clear her head, the small distance between them seems to help. Disentangling from the boggling cloud in her mind, Marinette points a finger at him.
“You.” Then she points her finger at the blazing hearth. “Daemon fire.”
The rascal had the gall to give her a shit-eating grin, full of razor-sharp fangs. Clearly amused at the fact he was able to render her to a limited vocabulary in such a short amount of time.
“What’s the magic word, My Lady?” he drawls. An impish glint flashes from his eyes.
She huffs, “Puh-lease.” For dramatic effect, Marinette crosses her arms over her chest.
“Ooh~so much sass,” he playfully says, already hovering a hand over the flames once more.
Marinette snorts, shaking her head, trying to hide a smile. “You’re such a terror.”
Fondly, Chat winks in her direction. Countering with, “But I’m your terror.”
– {X} –
A large, oval mirror sits upright, leaning on a nearby surface. It’s placed strategically so that the viewer could recline on the floor and peer into their reflection, which is exactly where Marinette found herself. Well, technically it wasn’t a traditional mirror anymore. Marinette had retrieved it from a dump pile outside of the village a while back.
Through her local services as one of the kingdom’s resident witches, she had commissioned a glass maker to produce and tailor glass that would fit the dimensions of the former mirror. Meanwhile, Marinette had coated the backside of the mirror with black paint. After the glass was finished, she had replaced it back into its appropriate slot, enabling the original silver reflective surface to now be a dark, obscure portal – a scrying mirror.
There were varying methods when it came to scrying; crystal balls, water gazing, sky watching – but when it came to communing with other daemonic entities, Marinette found dark mirror scrying to be the best practice. At least in her case. It allowed a direct doorway, a stable meeting face-to-face without the constant shifting of the elements or the distorted view of a sphere.
Sparing a glance to her side, she considered Chat Blanc for a moment. It had been different with him. Years of premonitions in her dreams told her she and Chat would be bound as a witch and familiar, respectively. She had tried on countless occasions to commune with Chat before he became her familiar through mirror scrying, but he hadn’t ever responded. It wasn’t until she had summoned him for the first time that any words were exchanged between them — and Chat Blanc hadn’t exactly been enthusiastic at being contracted to a witch at the time.
He shifted on his knees, maneuvering to cross them in a more comfortable position. His stare remained poised and serious, pointed in the direction of the dark mirror. Marinette ascertained there were likely a hundred other things Chat would rather be doing right now, he was on edge about Fluff; the daemon of time and future-telling.
“Remember what we talked about,” he warned. His hand found hers, squeezing her palm gently. “No more than a few minutes.”
Marinette nodded, bringing up their hands and kissing one of his knuckles. She wouldn’t forget one of the compromises for this morning’s ritual. Chat Blanc had implored their time spent with Fluff be as minimal as possible, worried about the chaotic entities' influence over Marinette’s mortal sanity.
“I promise,” she said.
Warmth rushed into his cheeks at Marinette’s affection. Chat adored any attention she gave him and they’ve certainly performed quite the debaucherous acts together, yet even virtuous gestures like hand-holding or innocent kisses could send his heart racing. With a snap of her fingers, Chat would serenade the moon to her like a true, lovesick fool, if she so wished. It set his mind at ease Marinette agreed to the limited time conversing with Fluff. After earning Marinette’s heart and love, he didn’t want to put her wellbeing at any further unnecessary risk.
With clear understanding between them, Marinette began the ritual. She made a mental checklist in her head, crossing out each of the steps for preparation. The setting is on the cusp of sunrise, a liminal space within time itself between dusk and morning. Chat Blanc’s daemonic fire flickered in the hearth, lighting the dim cottage in a blue glow. A small tealight candle is situated in front of the scrying mirror, lit with a single, cerulean flame.
Reaching to her side, Marinette picks up a small blade. Sterilized and sharp enough to pierce skin. Beside her, she sensed Chat tense at the knife’s presence, knowing the next step that was required. She understood his displeasure, but it couldn’t be helped. Fresh blood is the best way to get the attention of any magickal creature. Her studies taught Marinette that it was such a strong, potent smell that it usually piqued the curiosity of supernatural entities. Certain creatures, like akumas, feasted on fresh blood; but that was commonly understood to be outside the norm.
Since communicating with any entity required a summoning, Marinette had to grab their attention somehow. Hence, the knife.
Chat’s nostrils widened the moment a bead of crimson swelled from the pinprick in Marinette’s finger. A mix of iron and sweetened jasmine filled the space between them. Had it been solely Marinette’s natural bouquet, Chat Blanc would’ve allowed himself to bask in her beautiful, heady fragrance. However, the tang of blood stained the accent of the aroma, sending alarm bells ringing through his head that his beloved was hurt; no matter how small the injury may be. He grimaced in response, forcing himself to remain still and push down his protective instincts to come to her immediate aide.
Likely sensing his unease, Marinette made quick and precise work to place her finger at the bottom of the glass and draw a small sigil on its surface using her blood as ink. The sigil she etched was a rough outline of a clock’s face. It wasn’t the definite seal for Fluff – that kind of information is only known to the daemon themselves – and when it came to sigil work as part of a ritual or spell, it was up to the practitioner’s interpretation. It made sense that Marinette would perceive the daemon of time to have a sigil of a clock.
The moment she was finished, Chat Blanc didn’t waste a single second to offer assistance to the small cut on her finger. Gently, he cups her wrist, drawing it close to his lips. Marinette didn’t protest, allowing him this moment of their magick to dance and blend to increase her healing. By this point in the trust in their relationship, this protocol went unspoken between them. Chat was grateful for the opportunity, wanting any chance to help his Lady.
Licking her cut clean, satisfaction rippled through him at the sight of the tiny injury sealing closed as a result of their magick’s combination. Returning her hand, Chat was rewarded by her fingers tickling under his chin. Tingles rushed down his spine, coiling his tail in pure delight.
“Thanks, Chat.” The smile she gives him melts his core. Although, the reprieve is short-lived as Marinette returns her focus onto the scrying mirror. “Okay” – she shakes out her shoulders – “Now or never.”
Marinette focuses on her reflection, meeting the pair of familiar indigo eyes, twinkling with memorized calculation and precision. She inhales and begins to say –
"In shadows deep and mystic lore,
A daemon's wisdom I implore.
Whispers of time, unfold the veil,
Grant me visions, let truth unveil.
From realms unknown, you now arise,
A guide through fate, a seer's eyes.
By liminal dance and mystic rhyme,
Reveal the paths of future time.
O daemon wise, with ancient might,
Enter now this sacred night.
In swirling whispers, secrets underlies,
Grant me visions, Fluff – clockwise!”
For a moment, nothing happens. The only movement is the flickering of Chat’s blue flame floating on the candle. The cottage falls hushed as the pair wait with bated breath; however, both Marinette and Chat Blanc know better. It isn’t rushed and won’t be. They opened the door, it simply took a few seconds for the guest to accept their invitation and step through.
Yet, the arrival of a daemonic spirit’s presence began to show its signs. The air gradually grew tense, a kind of heaviness that weighed on your shoulders and pressed into your back. Shadows elongated, stretching into sharper and harsher angles. Color became muted – not vanished, rather the familiar vibrancy of the witch’s home became washed out. Diluted. Sounds from the early morning fell hushed, as if life outside the cottage’s walls was nonexistent, cocooning them in this small pocket of space outside of time. To a mortal like Marinette, it felt like her and Chat Blanc were the only two people that remained on earth.
As Marinette stared into her reflection, shadows overlaid across the surface, muffling her details. Confusing her eyes until they began to see shapes contract and warp. From the blue candle flame, its illumination sinks beyond the surface of the glass, outlining a figure mimicking Marinette’s pose. As they solidify, Marinette starts to note the key features of this particular spirit according to her studies and from Chat’s personal accounts.
Two long ears, resembling those of a rabbit, sat atop of a rounded head. A pair of icy-blue eyes glowed from the depths of the darkened portal, fixed on Marinette without the familiar spot of pupils. Blank, radiant eyes drilled in her direction, unclear of thoughts and emotion, reminding the young witch she’s encountering something inhuman. Hell, it reminded her that she was dealing with a different type of daemon altogether – Chat Blanc is lifetimes more expressive than this one.
The only distinguishing factor Marinette could gauge of the daemon’s mood was a wide, face-splitting grin. Rows of fangs gleamed in the dark, pulsing in and out of the candle’s light. A sudden chill shuddered down her spine. Briefly, she doubted if summoning this kind of creature is worth the answers she sought.
“Finally… Finally! My turn to play!” squealed Fluff, their obscured shape wafting and rippling beyond the gateway. Their voice bounced and rasped, echoing around the cottage as if they were filling every corner. “I can’t seem to unfurl the last time I was summoned! Was it yesternow? Tomorrow-when?”
Then, Fluff lunged forward onto their knees, gripping the borders of the mirror from their side. Marinette froze, dropping her jaw as her stomach plummeted. There… there isn’t any way for Fluff to leave the scrying mirror… right? It can’t. Not for a simple communication summoning. Regardless, the temperature in the room fell dramatically.
“And you!” Fluff’s grin somehow grew wider, hyper-fixated on Marinette. To the witch, it looked like those fangs sharpened, ready for a feast. “Only a babe. A poppet in fate’s hands. The clocks are shrieking. Yes. Yes, I understand…”
To say that Marinette was unprepared for this encounter is an understatement. Shocked into silence, she couldn’t find the courage to speak to this daemon. They were babbling nonsense while glaring, starved and hungry in her direction. A wild eagerness shook across Fluff’s figure, bending and contorting the amorphous shadows surrounding their appearance. Frosty fingers raked the inside of her chest when she noticed a glistening drool creeping out from the side of the Fluff’s jaws.
“Fluff. Enough,” came Chat’s voice at her side. Strong and warm. His silkened growl anchored her back to the ground, leaving Marinette to blink out of her spiraling terror. “We brought you here for answers, not to play your head games.”
Slowly, Fluff’s gaze slid towards Chat Blanc. A corner of their eye twitched, the only indicator of possible annoyance. Yet, their grin widened again. Anymore and Marinette is convinced Fluff’s face will literally split in half. Those empty, glowing eyes intensified in the feline daemon’s direction. The young witch gulped dryly, dread filling the pit of her stomach, worried for Chat’s safety.
To the couple’s horror, Fluff giggled. An awful sound that reverberated like the clicking of gears, reminding Marinette of a countdown tick-tocking in her head.
“Mr. Destruction himself. The jester in shadow’s lunacy,” they began, cryptically despite their cheerful tone, “You. You’ll be shown warp and weft. Come! Come now! Time wears your face!”
Suddenly, Fluff leaped halfway outside of the scrying mirror, the glass surface rippling and warbling from the disturbance. Thrusting their arm forward, they snatched onto Chat Blanc’s wrist. Disgust rolled through Chat at the icy grasp of the daemon, loathe that anyone but Marinette touching him.
He attempted to wrestle out of their grip, but Fluff wouldn’t be easily deterred. This is a daemon of time, they were ancient – primordial. They had existed before time began and in the fragments where it never existed. Fluff’s conceiving is woven into chaos of shattered realities, a birth that bloomed in the petals of forever and wither in the same breath. A being juggling madness of past, present, and future had unmatched strength when they were determined.
To put it simply, Chat Blanc couldn’t dare to hope to wrench himself out of Fluff’s hold.
Marinette’s screams of alarm pierced his ears as he was hauled towards the mirror. True, unbridled terror crashed through him, realizing he was being pulled towards the unseen veil. The realm within the mortal plane. He struggled and roared, shaking the walls of the cottage, battling against being torn away from Marinette.
He wouldn’t go back.
He wouldn't.
He won’t!
– {X} –
Falling.
Floating.
Up.
Down.
Inside-out.
There’s no choice but to slip into time’s mouth.
Spiral within its deranged labyrinth. Hear the shouts of moonstruck. See the visions of whispering cackles of tomorrow, today, yesterday. Head filling to the brim now, then, what-will-be cacophony – threatening to burst and unravel from his mind. A kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, shards of time-mad tapestry stitching and tearing. Reflecting in his eyes. Stuffing his tongue with shrieks of laughter that never was.
A tiny, rational fragment within him found relief. Relief that his witch – Marinette, his mind clung onto like an anchor – wasn’t dragged into this. Being tossed, chewed, and cradled by forever’s garden was an awful energy, expanding then clapping all around and within – all a small pinprick threat to a mortal’s sanity.
Paths collapse, diverge, collide, and a maze of fractured timelines spread across in the prism.
Somewhere a clock chimes.
Then, he plunges.
Cold. Wet. Flooding his nostrils. Drenching his clothes, fur, crashing into his ears. The sting of salt forces his eyes closed and embeds on the back of his tongue before he reflexively holds his breath.
A moment passes.
Then another.
That’s how he knows.
Time is slowly solidifying.
Seconds click into regulation. Following a familiar, steady tempo. Marching onward regardless of those it left its wake, merciless and necessary.
Time is returning, shaping around him, fitting him in this cold, wet space for him to see. Taste. Feel. Be.
And with time, he recognizes he’s in now. A present tense of time. Now. Right now. With the stabilization of now, his memories, consciousness, and self rearranges. Descending into the forefront of his mind that pushed away the echo he had been before and into Chat Blanc of now. Right now.
Chat Blanc.
His name is Chat Blanc.
And he had been pulled through the scrying mirror by Fluff. No doubt he had experienced “The Burrow,” Fluff’s legendary domain. For whatever reason, Fluff had chosen him to show a vision instead of Marinette.
Marinette!
Spinning around, the feline daemon realizes he’s floating underwater. The current washes above him, eddying and rippling in its constant shifting. Briefly, he allows it to carry him, unsure of its destination or the purpose of this vision.
Then, Chat started to notice other details. Perfectly structured buildings made of stone and packed material towered on either side of him. His blue eyes widen, awed by the sheer size of these estates constructed close together. Their looming presence could rival the monarchy’s castle in Marinette’s village.
His heart pounds at the reminder of Marinette. He desperately hopes she hadn’t been pulled in by Fluff as well. Kicking his feet, he begins to swim, his sharp eyesight searching for her familiar face. It wasn’t believed for Fluff to reveal a future vision to more than one person during a summoning. But, it also wasn’t known that Fluff could transcend the boundaries between the veil and the mortal plane.
Although in hindsight, perhaps that should’ve been allocated. Fluff isn’t contained to time and space like most. They were merely stages for the daemon to use as a playground.
The further he swam, the more relief washed through him with no signs of seeing Marinette. Maybe she had been spared and was safely on the other side of the mirror, waiting for his return. Chat would need to venture through this vision quickly and return to her side as soon as possible.
However, the environment is strange to say the least. He comprehended he was underwater along with… a town? Of sorts? Bizarre wagons made of metal floated idly. Usual gravel roads were instead of flattened stone, like a dark river. It wasn’t like any town or village he had come across in his eight centuries of serving sorcerers.
Gradually, it dawned on him this is of the future. Of a place and time that doesn’t exist… yet.
Or, perhaps it’s from a time and place that had existed before and doesn’t anymore.
The same could be argued it lives and breathes alongside, in tandem, with his own reality.
Time isn’t linear. It bounces, sleeps, and dances beside other timelines and realities. Constantly flowing and ebbing like the ocean surrounding him. It’s impossible to determine when exactly this is. However, Fluff had decided it was significant to show Chat.
His attention perks when he notices a couple of small dots below him. Angling his strokes, Chat descends, bringing himself closer to the mysterious anomaly. Yet, as he approached, his movements stilled. His mind raced to piece together the events of what happened here – it was bigger than a natural disaster. The buzz of magick tingled the water caressing his skin. Something supernatural occurred here – something of great magnitude.
A massive scorch mark burned into the ground in the shape of a ring, like something had exploded. There were two figures standing in front of the unknown spot; one recoiling and hiding their face while the other reached out in desperation.
A heavy stone weighed in Chat Blanc’s stomach, crying out in warning the closer he got. Part of him didn’t want to know, shaking with fear as the smaller figure had distinct, familiar features. She’s younger here, no older than a young teen. Her outfit is strange, covered in spots and a mask hiding part of her face, but he could pick her out of a crowd blindfolded.
It was the familiar shape of her face. The dimensions between her wide eyes. The style of her hair.
Yet, it’s wrong… all wrong.
Her body is charred. Unmoving.
Frozen in time.
Marinette is…
Crying out a muffled scream, Chat Blanc spins away from his greatest fear. Darting upwards, he kicks and swims as if hounds were chasing at his heels. As if he could outrun what he had witnessed. He doesn’t want to see this nightmare. He needs to find his Marinette. She needs to be safe, protected, alive. She has to be. She has to!
– {X} –
“... Little kitty on a roof…”
Chat Blanc sucks in lungfuls of air. Trembling, it quickly registers in his head that he’s no longer underwater. Gathering his bearings, the feline daemon whips his head around. His feet are sturdy and level under him, indicating he was standing on a surface.
Looking up, his jaw drops.
Shattered into pieces was the moon, debris lifelessly floating in the cosmos. Far into the distance, haunting the sterile blue of the horizon, this unnamed city was flooded with water. Destroyed and devoured, mercilessly consumed by the wreckage of tainted magick.
Oh yes, Chat Blanc could sense the magick. Yet, it was twisted and polluted, leaving a rancid taste on his tongue. Its festering fingertips brushed his skin, making him internally recoil. He may be the daemon of destruction, but this is unnatural. A force had torn this destructive essence into something perverse. Warped it inside-out. Drained the life out of it, distorting it into a rotting ghost of itself.
“... all alone without his lady.”
Catching the voice singing nearby, Chat Blanc glanced down at his side and gasped.
It’s – him! Himself!
Except, different…
There were many similarities, yet just as many differences.
For one, this alternate version of himself was shorter. No, younger. He appeared to be no older than a teenager, a far cry from his current, mature, adulthood. The touch of mortality flushed the boy’s cheeks, naturally born into this human reality and body. Chat Blanc’s breath hitched, his mind yawning wide at the possibility, the chance that this means his far-fetched wish comes true. Does this mean he will eventually become… human?
It didn’t matter where or when. All that mattered is that one day, or some time now or then, somewhere, some- when in an alternate universe, he’s just like Marinette. Mortal. Human.
Chat blinks a double-take. There’s something odd about this version of himself. He’s human, yes, but there’s a sickening odor staining the boy’s visage. A corrupt shadow festering and eating away like a parasite clung around the younger version of himself. Dripping with bloodlust, a bottomless hunger yearning for moremoremore –
Chat flinches back a couple steps. Aghast.
Akuma.
Somehow, this version of himself had become tainted and possessed by an akuma.
B-but… that’s impossible!
“Chat… Noir?”
Jerking towards the familiar voice, towards the call of his true name he couldn't ignore the beckoning of the silky, sweet tone. Simultaneously, the enthralled boy turned around, jumping to his feet. Chat Blanc’s heart beat skids to a halt, his eyes bulging out of his head at what he saw. It seems the boy is equally astonished, forgetting his voice.
Marinette stood before the two of them, but it matched the young, burned body Chat had witnessed underwater. Except, now her skin is blushed, breathing, alive. Her costume is made of an unknown material, a crimson red mottled with black spots, reminding the feline daemon of a ladybug. She also wears a mask and her hair is pulled into twin pigtails.
Traces of magick flutter around her, embedded into her skin, dusting her being with power. The scent of pepper and sweetness skipped around the young Marinette, a murmur of a daemon’s blessing. Chat recognizes this concept, it counterbalanced his own existence. They had been conceived at the same time but their interactions were limited to once. One time he had met the being swirling in, out, and around this alternate Marinette.
Tikki, the daemon of creation and fertility. Kwami, a whisper trickled into his mind, filling in the laws of this world.
“My Lady!” crows the young boy, rushing to her. “I’d thought I lost you!”
Chat Blanc stands speechless. Frozen. A silent observer watching the scene play out in front of him as the pair interact. Clear shock and worry paint across Marinette’s face as she tries to puzzle what happened here. Throughout his stunned state, he caught snippets of their conversation bouncing between each other, blending dizzily into his ears.
“... has gotten into some mischief.”
“You’ve been akumatized…”
“Save me…”
“My poor kitty…”
“Here! But it's already broken!”
Then, they started to fight, screaming at each other; at odds. It churned Chat Blanc’s stomach, aching with a sickening feeling. Bile stung the back of his throat that this is wrong wrong — he and his Marinette were a team. They loved each other. She filled where he lacked, completing him. They were a team. Equals. They were never never meant to be on opposite sides.
Chat Blanc would never betray her. He would never hurt her. He can’t – he can’t. No harm must ever come to her. If they were by his own hands… the mere idea made Chat want to burn himself away.
Retreating backwards, Chat’s feet stumble beneath him, scurrying away from the hallucination. His legs shook uncontrollably, an icy shock splashing down to his bones. Cold, acidic venom nestled heavily in his gut as he mind continued to spiral, shriek, weft and whirl that all of this is wrong. Wrong. WRONG!
“GET ME OUTTA HERE!” he roared to the skies, bellowing from the depths of his chest. He doesn’t want to see anymore. Fluff is torturing him. It’s agony and he’s had enough.
Tears scorched down his cheeks as he mentally pleaded no more.
Marinette’s charred corpse, frozen in time flashes behind his eyes.
No more.
Marinette melded with daemon – Kwami’s essence, caught in the crosshairs of fate. Reaching out and pleading sense into the unnatural, corrupt version of himself.
No more.
Marinette cried out between their strikes, defending herself against him. Hurt, betrayed, and confused.
No more. Nomorenomorenomore…
Suddenly, a groaning thunders across the sky. The ground begins to shake, distorting and blurring the landscape. A buckling, then a loud boom! rumbles beneath him. It takes Chat moments to realize what’s happening. He watches the graying decay of blight ravenously eat at the building under his feet, expanding from the palm of the young, possessed alternate of himself.
The structure begins to crumble.
Marinette’s helpless cry pierce into his ears, falling towards the cold, gaping jaws of the ocean.
Chat Blanc wastes no time, uncaring if this is all real or not. He has one job and that’s to protect Marinette. He propels forward, chasing away the distance between them. Leaping from the disintegrating building, Chat strains his arm forward, tryingtryingtrying to reach her. Nothing else mattered other than to save her. Save her! Save her!
“MARINETTE!”
“...oir… up…!”
Ch..at…wake…!”
– {X} –
“Chat Noir! Please!”
Marinette shakes his shoulders, calling out for Chat Blanc’s true name. She disliked using it without his permission, as it was tied to his secret daemonic seal, a direct tether to his soul. Once uttered, the bearer of their true name would be compelled to obey any command or directive given. Every enchanted creature went through great lengths to hide their true name to avoid being taken advantage of and Chat was no different with his pale disguise.
For someone to willingly share the name of their soul took an astonishing amount of trust. It hadn’t come easily, Marinette never asked for his true name, Chat had provided it to her as a gift. A sign of his endless devotion and how much he entrusted his fate in her hands.
She rarely referred to him by it, normally celebrating its significance on new moons when he needed to replenish his reserves. By the dark of the moon, his ivory facade disappeared, leaving in place his real form of the Black Cat. Only on those sacred evenings did the witch beckon him by the name of the Chat Noir.
“Wake up, Chat Noir!”
Marinette hated herself, kicking and chastising internally for the manipulation of his name. However, it’s an emergency. Hopefully he’ll understand and won’t be too upset with her.
Suddenly, his eyes snap open from where he laid on the floor. His pupils shrink to the size of needles, blank and cold from wherever he had been. They stare in shock towards the ceiling before rounding onto her. They widen slightly. That’s all the warning Marinette received before the room spins.
She yelps, blinking quickly through her blurred vision. His hand cradles the back of her head, cushioning her from his rapid movement. The other rests flat on the ground intimately close to her face, giving her a detailed view to the deadly points of his claws. Had she not felt safe by his bulk looming over her, Marinette would’ve curled away in fear from the threat of those sharp weapons.
The small cottage vibrates, quaking under the weight of Chat Blanc’s ferocious snarl, reverberating throughout the walls. Testing the limits of her home by the force pushing against them. A bright light blinds her vision momentarily, washing her in a cozy heat, licking up her arms and down her legs. It teases at her hair, fluttering carefully across her cheeks. Careful. So careful to not burn her. Yet, the glow intensifies, engulfing Chat in blue flames.
His roars resound throughout their home, bellowing beyond the confines of the shelter. Threatening and chasing away those who dared a single step a hundred miles in their radius. It shook down into her chest, shuddering through her bones. Marinette felt like she would fall deaf to Chat’s roars.
If she were new and inexperienced to Chat Blanc, his monstrous sounds would surely make her cower. If she doubted their trust, she would fear she had upset him by referring to his true name. However, she heard the ache in his outcry, the way it sloped and cracked. Marinette had heard Chat Blanc bay in anger; that came from a guttural, recessed pool deep within his nature. This one stems from…
Terror. Heartache… desperation. Chat Blanc is desperate.
Judging from the way he positions himself, curling over her in a protective stance on all fours, a reflex to rely more so on his daemonic instincts quickly pieced together context in Marinette’s mind. Whatever Chat saw, it scared him.
Marinette is unafraid when she reaches up for him. Chat Blanc may have been an uncontrollable force when they first met, but even then, he never intentionally harmed her. Not from a single claw or a touch from his magick. She’s unafraid of his blue fire that swelled around them, a prowling aura ready to disintegrate and swallow everything around them. Yet, the tendrils caressed her gently, warming her skin in soothing wisps that made her feel safe and protected.
Chat’s power is strong enough to devastate the entire territory, easily. He may be scared, determined to ensure their safety no matter the cost. But, afterwards, he would feel guilty at causing such a tragedy. It would sink him back into the haunting nightmares of his past when he had been used as a weapon by those who had manipulated and abused his abilities. Chat would never forgive himself. Marinette loved him too much to allow for such a thing to repeat itself.
Hearts thundering from chest to chest, Marinette’s hands cup his jawline, gently tracing up his cheeks. His warnings stutter, grating to a stop. Her thumbs lightly trace the edge of his white, velvet furred mask, drawing down those icy blue eyes. Worry races through the witch when all she sees staring back is the glow of wild ferocity gleam in his untamed irises.
Marinette’s chest shatters into a thousand pieces. “Oh, Chat…”
He groans deeply seconds before a bone cracks somewhere in his body. His form ripples, on the brink of transitioning into something larger – a formidable beast prepared to watch the world burn for their benefit.
“Shh… it’s okay…” she murmurs. Her hands card into the thick locks of his frosty hair, unwavering from his gaze and pulling him closer. Picking up her head, she leans up to the tip of his nose. “I’m here, minou… right here…”
He trembles above her. The scratching of his claws etch into the hardwood floor, echoing across the cottage. His lungs trip over themselves, catching the distinct scent of jasmine and chocolate. He leans into its familiarity, feeling it wash over him like a cleansing bath, chasing away the worst of his nightmares. His senses were absolute, he could trust that this is real.
Gradually, Chat’s pupils expand. Reason replaces the feral lens in his eyes as he sees his most precious treasure – his person, lay beneath him. Her fingers softly knead the back of his head, threading through his hair in consoling circles. So much affection is contained within her touch it makes the back of his eyes sting.
“Ma-Mari…?” he chokes.
“Yes, Chaton.” Her pink lips curl into a reassuring smile. “It’s me. Right here.”
Shaky glass fills those broken orbs, gazing down at her and darting across her form. Mentally cataloging for any signs of injury. “You-you’re… okay?” His tone falters.
Marinette angles her head, puzzled. “Of course I am.”
A sob escapes him as his arms wrap around the witch, crushing her to his chest. He buries into her shoulder, shielded by the waves of her hair. His frame quivers, shaking as he holds her tightly. She feels her shoulder become damp as Chat frantically mutters, “Thank god. Thankgodthankgod…”
Marinette has no idea what kind of vision Fluff showed Chat, but whatever it was had left its traumatizing mark. Overwhelmed with the urge to comfort him, she begins to do whatever is necessary to put his worries to rest and see him smile by the end of the day.
Nosing through the fringe of his hair, she inhales his comforting natural bouquet of mint and smoky sandalwood. It reminded her each time of stumbling upon an abandoned herbal mint garden, aged with the musk of the ancients. His fragrance somehow being both sexy and venerable.
She presses a kiss to the bolt of his jaw. Her hands roam down the back of his neck, onto his broad shoulders where they massage tenderly. “It’s okay,” she repeats in a whisper, soft enough for just the two of them. “Everything’s okay… we’re safe.”
Chat’s muscles gradually loosen, the rigid tension thawing under her touch. He slumps into her shoulder, still curled around her. Waves of protection continued to emanate from his position; yet it was also tinged with intense desperation to hold her still, ensuring that nothing could rip her away from him. That’s okay, Marinette didn’t mind. She isn’t planning on going anywhere.
“Love you,” she murmurs close to his ear, laying a kiss on its base.
His ear flicks in her direction, followed by lifting his face to meet her gaze. His eyes were red and puffy, cheeks tracked with tears. His eyes were clear, a stark contrast to the blazing fury from earlier, staring at her wide with vulnerability. He takes in her form, checking her over for what she couldn’t discern. When he seemed to be content by whatever he did or didn’t find, Chat leaned close, his warm breath brushing her lips.
“I love you so much, Marinette,” he rumbles. A purr builds in the back of his throat, rippling down to her chest. He presses his forehead against hers. Meekly, he asks,“You know I’d never hurt you… right?”
Marinette licks her lips, tasting mint on her tongue. The stars in her eyes meet his, swirling into a milky blue galaxy.
“Of course I know,” she says, softly. “I trust you with my life, Chat Blanc.”
Those seemed to be the magic words as he crashed his lips onto hers. Marinette sinks under the plush of his kiss, losing herself in the heat coating down her throat, boiling her blood to sweet, rushing degrees. Velvet seeped into her head, fogging over her thoughts and carrying her high into the clouds.
Chat’s blue flames redirected themselves, focusing on the witch as its centerfold. Its simmering coils furled around her, enveloping like a second embrace, rivaling the sturdy comfort of his arms. The sapphire inferno turned gentle, delicately dancing and skipping across her figure in crackling kisses. The aquatic tendrils cocooned her, sliding down her sides and brushing through her hair, heat caressing the back of her head, sending her to dizzying heights.
Wafts of smoke filtered into her nostrils, but there wasn’t any indication of the harsh smell of burning. Certain that Chat had it all under control, she sunk under her trust for him, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him into her. Obediently Chat lowered, bracketing his arms on either side of her head, her lying on the floor with him curled over her. His large palms cupped her cheeks, cradling her blush.
Heart pounding in her ears, Marinette’s tongue swept across his lips. He groans into her mouth, jaw slackening just enough for his fangs to peek through and lightly trace the corners of her lips. Their kiss deepens, as if Chat was searching to become lost in it, and she permitted him. His tongue laid on the bed of hers, their flavors melding into a decadent minty-chocolate, accented with the slight whisper of earthy zest. A moan escapes from her throat, which Chat inhales greedily. He explores the caverns of her mouth, flicking across the roof of it, alighting her nerves in fluttering tickles.
Kissing Chat was like unlocking a forbidden, addicting treasure chest. It opened doorways she had no clue that existed otherwise. She could be kissing him for hours and she’d be none the wiser, willingly tangled in the labyrinth of the bottomless pools of his compassion. Lightning sparked across her nerves, kindling embers that sizzled her blood, trailing a blaze that left her heart skipping in white-hot fire. Her lungs burned for air, but Marinette can’t bring herself to care, succumbing to the drifting and floating of her mind. If this is her fate, then she doesn’t mind in the least.
– {X} –
Late morning found the pair curled together on the floor, reclined against the foot of the settee. Outside the bright illumination of daylight peeked through the closed curtains of the windows, giving the interior of the cottage a soft, dim glow. Sunrise had long passed, and with the sun climbing higher into the sky awakened neighboring birds. Their greeting chirps sang beyond the walls of their home, excitedly soaring before fading into the distance, carrying their melody into the wind.
Marinette was sitting between Chat Blanc’s legs, her back resting against his chest. His arms were wrapped around her, still protective. Somewhere during their cuddling, a blanket had been found and had been laid over their laps. The blue daemonic fire from earlier continued to pop in the stone hearth, casting the cabin in soothing warmth.
Chat’s low, rumbling purrs reverberated from his chest and into her spine, settling delicious vibrations to allay her nerves and coddle her deeper into comfort. She blinked drowsily, dozing slightly from the intimate sensation. Snuggled and safe with the love of her life, Marinette couldn’t help but indulge in the temptation of slumber. They were together, and all was right in the world.
“We… were enemies,” he started slowly.
Her mind jerks awake, instantly pushing back the call of sleep. A couple hours had passed since their encounter with Fluff at sunrise. The couple had taken time to calm down from the high tension the strange daemon had caused. It had taken a while for Chat Blanc’s protective instincts to quell enough for them to get into a more comfortable position. He recalled his flames without trouble, but he couldn’t bring himself to let Marinette leave his arms, yet. He couldn’t help it as it was part of his selfish daemonic nature to keep his priceless treasures closeby.
And Marinette, by far, is his greatest fortune. She’s the brightest star in the sky. The dancing ray of moonlight. His candle flame in the dark.
Fortunately, Marinette didn’t seem to mind, sensing his hesitancy. She remained patient, well aware of certain daemonic inclinations, especially when it came to Chat’s quirks. She was pliable as he molded his arms over her and nestled her in his lap, equally seeking out his affection by burrowing deeper into his embrace.
Resting the back of her head into the middle of his sternum, Chat understood her silent permission for him to continue.
“I don’t know where or when it was,” he said, chewing on his lower lip, “but it was a nightmare. We were… we were so young. And you were trying so hard for me to see reason.” Chat pressed into the crown of her head, letting her wonderful aroma soothe his mounting tension. “You weren’t giving up on me. And I… there was something wrong with this version of me. I was possessed and angry. I was so dangerous and I – I tried to hurt…”
His arms tightened around her, extremely careful of his claws. He buried into the crook of her neck as a shudder passed through him. The rumbling of his purrs stuttered for a moment before resuming once again, an instinctual habit to comfort himself.
Marinette rubs her cheek against his, puzzling herself into the slots where she perfectly fits into him. Her hands stroked down his arms, thumbing the inner pulse of his wrists.
“Sorry I called you by your true name,” she says. Their faces so close her lips brushed his cheek. “You weren’t waking up and I didn’t know what else to do. I was scared Fluff took you away from me…”
For the first time in a while, Chat smiled, his gaze settling softly onto her. “It’s fine. You did the right thing.” The tip of his nose swept across hers. “Nothing could ever take me away from you.”
Marinette’s heart instantly raced, leaping into her throat and hammering in her ears. Warmth bloomed outwards from her chest, buzzing in her veins as Chat’s declaration spoke volumes of truth. She genuinely believes that no matter the distance, Chat would always find his way back to her.
“Just like I know nothing would ever make you hurt me,” she stated, fully believing her words. Attempting to lighten the mood, she adds, “Besides, we’ve been through worse.”
He chuckles tentatively, rolling his eyes. “There you go again. Not giving up on me.” He inches closer, mint enticing across her lips. “How do you have so much faith in us?”
“That’s easy. It’s because I love you, you silly cat.” She pecks a kiss on his chin, her eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings. “You’re stuck with me. Which means, giving up isn’t an option. I’d never leave you alone. Whatever may happen, I’ll always be here.”
Chat Blanc believed her words. Truly he did. However, his heart sank from the divide between them, the painstaking fact that remained unspoken. Marinette is mortal, which means there will come a day when she will be compelled to ascend to a realm he couldn’t follow. Her laws of time were fleeting compared to his, making the passage between them brittle.
Chat savored every moment, grateful for each day he gets to spend with Marinette. His precious, perfect person gifted by fate itself and awed by the reward that his Lady chose him at the end of it all.
Yet, the memory of the vision flashed through his head. The undeniable certainty of what remained evident brought hope to glimmer in his chest. The possibility – the chance that his thousand year wish will come true. In the vision, Chat Blanc had been human. The same as Marinette. And, although in a twisted reality, they were together. That’s all that Chat wanted, was to follow wherever she went, for being with her is his true calling, where he felt safe and free to express himself. Marinette is home.
Someday, Chat Blanc will reveal the entire extent of the vision to the young witch, and they will celebrate in the fact he’ll earn his wish somewhere. Some-when. In the distant future, the forgotten past, or simultaneously alongside their reality remains to be unseen. However, it’ll be enough for the pair to catapult their relationship onto another level and make the proper preparations for a soul-bond ceremony.
A sacred ritual that would entwine their souls, binding them for eternity. Even after time lays down to rest, they will always be able to find each other. Their bond would be cemented, their souls would remember, even if the body and mind forget. Which meant, endless lifetimes of meeting and falling in love over and over and over again, across endless worlds.
To Chat, that’s his idea of paradise. It didn’t matter if his variations didn’t remember their past. It’s the promise to do this wonderful song and dance, to experience falling in love with Marinette again is to witness the divine.
However, that is a story for another time.
For now, Chat opens his mouth to say something. Perhaps it had been a witty quip on the tip of his tongue or a hopeless romantic gesture. It doesn’t matter as it’ll forever be unknown when his attention is quickly diverted to a glinting item.
Raising a finger, he points at it. “Uhh… Mari? What happened to your mirror?”
Perking up, she follows his direction. Across from them, forgotten where it had remained in the corner, it leaned against walls. However, its flawless glass surface was now shattered, cracks webbed across its face.
Rubbing the back of her neck, she flushed in embarrassment. Ducking her head, Marinette shyly explains, “Fluff was dragging you into it. I ended the ritual, but they wouldn’t leave or let you go. I didn’t know what else to do so I…” With her foot, protected by her slip, she made a kicking motion.
“You didn’t,” he deadpans, gaping wide between her and the broken mirror.
Marinette crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I did.”
His lips twitch, threatening to curl upwards. “Y-you’re telling me you – you…”
“Did what I had to do,” she huffs, proudly. She smiles in triumph up at him.
Chat burst out laughing, uproaring in pure delight. He doubled over, clutching Marinette tight to his chest, as his entire frame shook in his amusement. The sound must’ve been infectious for Marinette began to laugh with him. His chest swelled with love and devotion. He couldn’t stop picturing the image of Marinette confronting an intimidating entity of time and space, demanding they give back her kitty. When they didn’t comply, she resorted to banishing them by kicking them out; quite literally.
He grinned at her, relishing how she reciprocates his expression. Her cheeks are red, darkening the dusting of freckles. Her eyes are twinkling in verdant blue, deep as the ocean. Her smile is warm and bright, melting his own heart into a puddle.
Marinette had personally gone toe-to-toe with a powerful being like Fluff. His brave, fearless, wonderful witch came to his defense because she loves him. Really, when Marinette felt the drive, she’s a force to be reckoned with. Chat had learned that a long time ago. A shame that Fluff had to learn the hard way.
“My brave, fearless, wonderful Little Mouse,” he praises, voicing his thoughts. Awe strikes through him as his thumbs draw along her jawline and up her cheeks. “Have I ever told you how purr- fect you are?”
Marinette looks off to the side in feigned thought. She hums, “You have. But I wouldn’t mind a little reminder.”
Chat Blanc laughed again, stealing her under a kiss, one of the many reminders to come.
.
.
.