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Marinette took a sip of the hot chocolate she had made herself earlier. The liquid burning her throat on its way. It probably wasn’t the time for it anyway, she pondered, as the sun in the sky was scorching her skin. After all it was a hot summer day. Sitting on the balcony above her room she could see the people of Paris walk past the bakery, occasionally entering it only to leave shortly after. Many of them wearing short clothing and very rarely a coat, seemingly underlining the point, that today was a hot day.
And yet Marinette did not perceive it. Not as she should. As she knew she should. But all she felt on the exposed areas was her skin prickling and stretching in a way, that told her she should put on some cream to protect her pale skin. She felt the pain in her throat from the steaming cup of her sweet beverage. It should be hot.
She found herself wishing it was hotter. Maybe she could put on her winter coat, but she didn’t want her parents to see and throw her one of those worried looks she’s been getting more and more lately.
It would not help anyway she knew. Logically Marinette was aware, that the coldness she felt beneath her skin and deep in bones was not an external issue. She was aware, that no amount of clothing and hot chocolate could fix this. And yet…
And yet the girl found herself wishing. Wishing she wasn’t all but shivering, while the sun was sky-high on a bright summer day. Wishing her body normal again and like it was hers once more. Wishing she was thirteen again, before she knew of magic and superpowered villain and pun-loving catboys, of the way people in pain screamed and their eyes turned empty when died and the feeling of corpses beneath her hands and the stench of blood and sweat and…
Marinette took a sharp breath. Trying to expel the phantom smell. It had crept up on her. It couldn’t possibly be here. She gasped. Her hands shook. The smell was still there. The cup slipped. Porcelain clanking. Gasping. She collapsed. Knees hitting the floor. Hands on her head. Breaths painful. “Marinette!” A high-pitched voice. She felt sick. Her heart beating too quick. “Please, Marinette!” The cry lauder this time. Tikki, she realized.
“You need to slow your breathing!” Slow her breathing? She was barely getting oxygen as is. “Please.” There was fear in Tikki’s voice. Marinette’s fault. She should do something. But the terror was running through her body. She heard her Kwami worrying about her. She tried to focus on the squeaky voice. Her breath coming in gasp. She could hear the swishing sound of her Tikki flying around her head. Could feel her forehead pressed against the floor and tears dripping from her face. Could smell… she could smell the sweetness of cacao, the saltiness of her tears. Another gasp. No blood. No sweat. No death. She tried to prolong her breath and keep breathing in for a few seconds. She was on her balcony. Nothing died here besides plants. Here was safe.
She registered pain. In her knees. On her scalp. In her feet and lower part of her legs. Marinette tried to focus on it. She wasn’t sure how long it took her, but she managed to relax the muscles in her fingers and drop her hands from her head. The pain lessened once she wasn’t digging her fingernails into her scalp anymore. She took a deep breath and sat up slowly with much more effort than it should take. The girl could feel her body shaking and the exhaustion creeping through her veins.
Her legs and feet screamed in pain when she sat on them. Carefully turning around and sitting on her butt – her legs stretched in front her – Marinette tried to take a look at the problem.
Or rather the damage. She had dropped her cup on her naked feet. The cup hadn’t broken, but the hot liquid had poured out of it over her feet and splashed onto the front side of legs up to the middle of her shin. The injury on her legs wasn’t as extensive though, the burning red on her feet much more worrisome.
As if it had just waited for her to take notice, the pain started to increase drastically as she looked at it. The tears she managed to dry before, were back with vehemence. Her long pants were sticking to her legs. She should take them off. She sniffed and struggled to move her legs properly. Each movement sending shockwaves through her body, the pant legs tugging painfully on the injury.
Marinette stocked. She remembered vaguely, that you shouldn’t remove clothes from burn injuries, but she wasn’t sure if that applied to scalding injuries as well.
She was so tired. This was so stupid. A stupid way to injure herself. A stupid reason to have a panic attack. A stupid overreaction that wasn’t even there. It was embarrassing if anything. She was Ladybug for the Kwami’s sake. Protecter of Paris, Guardian of the Miracle Box. Defeated by cup of cocoa and bad memories.
The tears kept coming. She let herself fall back to lay flat on the balcony. Maybe she should just stay here like this. What did it matter anyway? Maybe… “Marinette!” The tiny god bumped into her to finally get her attention.
Right, she had been blending out the voice of one closest friend. A friend, who had worry written all over her small body and face. “Y-yeah?” Relieve shone through Tikki’s expression and guilt settled heavily in Marinette body. She shouldn’t have ignored Tikki.
“Sorry.” She sat up, her limps unwillingly cooperating. Sniffing and rubbing her eyes she and look apologetic at the God while trying to instead ignore complaining appendages. “I was just…” – “You need to call your parents”, interrupted Tikki. “What?” – “Your parents? A doctor needs to look at this. This looks really bad!” The squeaky voice was higher than normal, clearly stressed.
The girl bit her lip uncomfortable. Tikki was right, of course. But she didn’t think she could walk down the stairs with her feet like this. She also couldn’t transform into Ladybug. While this would take away most of the pain, she couldn’t exactly show up as of the Parisian Superheroes, now could she? And they were in the bakery. No way, would they hear her, if she called out to them. So how was she supposed to get their attention?
Oh, she could literally call them. Just as the tiny being had said. “Tikki, could you get my phone? It’s loading at the moment.” Tikki nodded exited, happy to be able to help now. She made her way down into the bedroom.
And while Marinette waited and tears were streaming down her face and exhaustion was clinging to her body like a bad stench and her feet were burning, all she could think was, she was still cold.