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Marinette turned to look at her room.
The pink walls seemed so dull in the twilight, the fleeing rays making their warmth go gray. Her palm pressed to the small holes worn from thumbtacks, brushing a long-forgotten folded square of clear tape. The lack of papers scattered like pale wings dotted with too many daydreams on their margins made her resolve clearer. This room, these walls, home to so many almosts and never-wills would watch, would rest their vibrance.
Breathe.
“Are you ready?”
A small smile crossed her lips.
“Almost.”
She plucked a hair tie from the desk, letting it rest on her wrist. Patting her pockets to make sure everything was in its place:
Gum? Check
Phone? Check
Miraculous box? Check.
Breathe.
“We’re ready.”
Her smile grew bigger. Her eyes had a certain wild glint to them, the look of someone who has to count their steps, log expressions because the unknown with its untold promise waits with the dawn. It is the look of someone at the edge of uncertainty waving to the walls where every inch of growth was logged to lightly tread places unmarked, untempered. No. It would be she who would be tempered.
“Tikki? Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”
The kwami settled on her shoulder.
“Yes. You made your choice and now it’s getting closer and closer. Chat will watch over, it’s okay Marinette.”
The kwami braced herself. Marinette ran her index over Tikki’s head and made a soft boop sound. Grabbing her small bag and slinging the larger backpack over her shoulders Marinette exhaled down the stairs to where her parents were checking the contents of a large rucksack filled with fruits and loaves and cookies for what might’ve been the eleventh time.
Tom’s gaze rose to see her clutching the straps, fiddling with the material there. His arms lifted to wrap themselves around his daughter, his only child. He planted a kiss on the top of her head, missing the downy softness from when she was the size of his forearm.
“Come back to us in one piece Marinette.”
She forced herself to look up. His smile like a pin-pricked egg made her cling harder. He let go first and tapped her chin. Sabine emerged to clutch her arm and pull her in. Marinette inhaled. Her maman’s hair, so shiny with its blues held a single silver strand. She reached out to gently tap it.
Will there be more when I come back?
“Tikki please watch over my little girl.”
“Of course M. Dupain. I’ll do what I can.”
“That’s all we really can do isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Sabine crossed her child three times.
May she return like water. Let her journey be smooth.
“You’ve got everything Mari?” “Oui papa.”
Sabine zipped Marinette’s jacket and patted her cheeks. Tom opened the door.
Tikki went to the small purse, Marinette grabbed the rucksack. Tom pulled her in for one last hug.
“I love you maman. Papa. I promise I’ll be safe, please don’t worry too much about me. It’s going to be fine.”
She straightened her back and gave a large smile.
Sabine felt a pang in her chest but didn’t move. If she took one step there’s no telling what she would do. Tom held her hand and nodded. Of course they would worry, they were her parents! It’s their job!
One step. Then two. Marinette crossed the threshold and looked back.
“We love you so much.”
She smiled and kept walking. Every so often she would turn back and wave until she got to the corner and there was one final turn before there would be nothing but wall and no parents to wave to. She blew a kiss.
Hopefully, nobody would notice the mist in her eyes. If Tikki sensed anything, she didn’t say anything. Behind the corner wall and a still-open door, Tom and Sabine let their tears roll.
Off where adventure lies. I hope she eats enough. I don’t really trust that weird bug but I have to don’t I?