She threw the tuning fork into the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!”
Of course.
He helped her up, smiling. “You’re the only person I know who could make tripping look like choreography.” Miraculous- Tales of Ladybug Cat Noir
Cat Noir lunged. Maestro Mute waved a baton. The air in front of Cat Noir turned solid—a wall of compressed silence. He slammed into it, ears ringing (or not ringing) with the absence of impact.
When the light faded, the gala resumed. And Marinette found herself backstage, leaning against a wall, still trembling. She threw the tuning fork into the air
“Okay, Tikki,” she whispered into her purse, watching Adrien Agreste across the stage. He was tuning a violin, the soft light catching the gold in his hair. “I’ve designed the set pieces, sewn the soloist’s gown, and memorized the entire score. But talking to him? Impossible.”
“That was close,” a voice said. She turned. Adrien was there, violin in hand, smiling softly. “You know, for a second, I thought I saw Ladybug trip over a sandbag. But that’s impossible. Ladybug never trips.” “You’re the only person I know who could
She threw it. Not at Maestro Mute. At the grand piano on the stage. The yo-yo struck the lowest key. The string inside the piano vibrated. And because sound is just vibration, and silence is just the absence of it—the piano sang.
Some silences aren’t empty. Some silences are full of everything you’re too afraid to say.
A concentrated wave of grey shot toward Cat Noir. Ladybug didn’t think. She leaped, shoving him aside. The wave caught her left ear.
“Totally! Just testing the floor’s… absorbency,” she squeaked, face burning. She could smell his cologne—cedar and something sweet.