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Emilie Agreste was an angel in every way but literal. Everybody who ever loved her could attest to that. Hair of halo gold, skin feather-soft, voice as sweet as a heavenly chorus, she certainly had the look. She an angel in the biblical sense, too; sharp eyes that always knew without having to see, refusal to follow mere human commands and expectations of her, all-encompassing in the way she overtook your thoughts until they were only about her and nothing else... Yes, she was, most decidedly, an angel of the highest rank.
A force of nature, once Emilie had a goal in mind, nothing on Earth could stop her from reaching it; whether this was to smite her enemies (particularly her parents, though this was a work in progress hindered by recent... events), or to create miracles (a child carried to term within her womb - also still a work in progress, but one she was nearing every day), she would achieve it. If these goals required external help, well... wings don't grow in a day, right?
It was hard to accept that her own body simply was not built to conceive, but, thankfully, given enough money, bargaining, and groveling, there were alternative options available - like magic, so long as you believed in it (and could do the impossible and find it). Given hope, it was almost harder to accept the fact that finding the mystical, magical Peacock Miraculous would, perhaps, take more time than first hoped. Perhaps she and Gabriel had been silly to think on such a short time span; find the miraculous within a year, birth a child nine months later, and then see if they want more children down the line (she thought yes, he suspected no). Nathalie, the rather stoic archaeologist-Shadow assigned to the couple by the Council, had all but said as much the first time they met, even. She wasn't the best at reading the room, or perhaps she didn't care to try; immediately after introducing herself and hearing them explain in their own words what they hoped for, she very clearly stated that they had no idea what they were signing up for, and that their own inexperience, not just with expeditions but also with mountain climbing and other physical pursuits, would severely lengthen their timeline. Undaunted (and, truthfully, not believing her), the duo insisted on accompanying and assisting her. Though the first expedition bore no brooch - and over this, Emilie did bitterly cry - it did, at least, endear them to Nathalie, and Nathalie to them.
At least Nathalie was good enough not to rub it in her faces when she was proven right.
The second expedition started more subdued, but still hopeful. It ended, of course, with heartbreak and sorrow. Now, their last night at camp before descending the mountain with empty hands and heavy hearts, Gabriel slept inside the tent while Nathalie and Emilie sat by the fire. They passed a flask between themselves periodically; inside was, if Emilie recollected properly, an alcoholic drink called chhaang. The alcohol content of the drink itself was rather low, all told, but the fact that Nathalie and Emilie had a full pot at the start of the night, bought from some of the local people of the region, and it was now over half empty, meant that they were... less than sober (or at least she was). Emilie drank to staunch her sorrows; why Nathalie drank, Emilie didn't know, but she could only assume it was to keep an eye on her and ensure she didn't do anything foolish.
Honestly, you try to climb the mountain yourself, alone, on your first expedition ever, when you aren't quite ready to give up searching just yet, ONE TIME, and suddenly nobody trusts you!
"I'll miss this taste when we return home," Emilie chuckled headily, taking the flask too-eagerly from Nathalie's hand. She drank deeply from it, head tossed back.
"The locals will miss your deep pockets," Nathalie replied with a wry, teasing smile. The first time she ever smiled like that, something in Emilie's chest had jolted; now, at least, she was used to the sensation.
Emilie panted as she finally wrenched herself free of the flask, laughing breathlessly. "Oh, what would we do with all of that money anyway?" she slurred, voice thick. "Might as well make someone else's day." She looked over at Nathalie with a thoughtful pout as the woman pulled the flask from her hand. "Maybe we should pay you more, too; does the Council pay you at all?"
Rather than responding to her question, Nathalie looked deep into the fire. Lips pressed to the open top, smiling just slightly, she said quietly, "So generous... What an angel you are."
Emilie shivered, despite the warmth flowing through her body and emanating from the flame. A feeling flooded her, one she didn't quite want to name just yet, and she licked her lips. She laughed meekly as her open jacket slid down her shoulder of its own volition, exposing the tank top she wore underneath; though there was a chill to the night air, she could hardly feel it now, even without the influence of the alcohol. "I'm serious," she insisted, her voice wavering slightly (but not from the drink). "We can pay you more. Would you like that?"
Lips still pressed to the open mouth of the flask, Nathalie's eyes flicked up to meet hers. The corner of her mouth twitched in a half-smile, her eyes narrowed slightly, and her voice was low as she said softly, "I assure you, the only payment I require is the Miraculous in hand."
"Really? You don't want anything else?" Emilie pressed, pout deepening. As she reached for the flask, she said, "We could get you just about anything you want, you know. Once you find that Miraculous, we'll be in your debt forever; power, money, fame... you name it and we'll give it to you!"
Emilie's fingers hadn't even brushed metal before Nathalie darted forward faster than the blink of an eye. Where once she'd been seated on a bench a casual distance away to the side of Emilie's own, she was now crouching on both knees in front of the blonde, invading her personal space with an amused look in her eye. Emilie jumped, belatedly gasping as alcohol made her reactions slow, but she was prevented from moving away by Nathalie's hand, wrapped around her back, touching icy fingers to warm flesh.
"That isn't how Shadows operate," Nathalie replied quietly, voice amused and her eyes as blue as a frozen mountain stream. "But, really, Emilie," her voice dipped lower, almost sensual - or was Emilie imagining it, inebriated as she was? Without even looking, cool fingertips traced over Emilie's shoulder blades, dipping underneath the loose fabric to touch the flushed skin. "You should have wings."
It was very obviously a teasing remark, but one which had Emilie implode in every way except physical. Where before the heat of her body could've been a sauna, now it was a volcano, flooding her veins and turning red every inch of skin. Without meaning to, she made a noise somewhere between a choke and a whimper, eyes growing impossibly wide as her mouth fell open. It wasn't a jolt that shook her heart this time so much as an earthquake so great and powerful it couldn't even register on the scales, shaking the very foundations she was built upon; those words, in the hierarchy of Emilie's needs, were at the very top, and she hadn't even been aware of it until now.
As though oblivious to the effect she had just had upon the blonde (quite likely, given the nature of the woman), Nathalie's hand retreated into safer territory to instead tug Emilie's jacket back up her shoulder. Setting the flask upon the bench to free her hands, she even went so far as to zip up Emilie's jacket. Both gestures felt maternal in a way Emilie's mother had never been, and both gestures (void of the words spoken) were things Nathalie had done several times before to both Emilie and Gabriel, lecturing both Agrestes about the importance of staying warm while upon the mountain. Of course,
Nathalie stood up as soon as she was done, brushed the knees of her pants off, and said with a teasing lilt to her voice, "You need to be careful, lest those wings freeze off."
Those words, spoken so casually, were the final nail in the coffin, and hung in the air as Nathalie sat back down on her own bench. She had no idea what had just transpired inside of Emilie, the torrent of emotions that were threatening to drown her. As Nathalie poked at the fire with a discarded stick, Emilie suddenly stood up on unsteady legs.
"I-I...!" she started too loudly, voice shaking and cheeks blushing. She was holding her jacket tightly, as though it hadn't been zipped at all; with the way she could still feel the trace of Nathalie's fingers, it was hard to believe it had. "I'm going to bed now!"
Nathalie's eyebrows jumped up, clearly surprised by this announcement. "But it's your turn-"
"Goodnight!" Emilie chirped, spinning on her heel and all but dashing to the tent. Her heart beat so loudly it was a wonder it didn't echo around the entire mountain.
"...Goodnight," Nathalie said a moment later, her voice muffled by distance and canvas as Emilie flung herself inside into her refuge.
That night, Emilie woke Gabriel so he could help her fight the heat in the way he best knew how. That night, Gabriel let heat envelope him, a soothing balm to a disappointing trip, a stress relief and mood lifter to calm an inner pain. That night, Nathalie sat upon the bench until sunrise, unwilling to intrude upon that which she could (quite clearly) hear and very easily imagine.
And the next morning, the three of them unanimously decided to put off descending the last stretch of mountain, citing soreness. After all, it wasn't like they had anybody at home waiting for their return (yet).