#sizzle writes

[sizzleissues]

Surely watching bbc pride and prejudice would have not affect on me. I’m like totally normal and don’t start writing like a bad imitation for a week before i get it out of my system…….

huh… what’s this

Kagami hardly thought the night could get worse until she found herself within listening distance of the painfully out of place newcomers. Mr Agreste seemed at least to find some partnership with her sister but it was Mr Fathom that had the fringes whispering. He was too rich for this sort of place, too easily revolted by their simplicity. She’d decided to ignore him, even as his judging eyes followed her closely, and she’d just managed to lose his attention when he sidled up beside the very partition she hid behind. His straight blond hair was just visible over the board. A more excitable Mr Agreste chatted loudly, without care for the sorts who could overhear.

”Have you seen anyone to catch your eye, my dear cousin?” Mr Agreste asked with a playful twist. It was strange that two cousins so entirely different could stand each other’s company, let alone travel all the way from London together for the season.  

“Not one, no lady here has caught my eye and I doubt a suitable match could be found from this set.”

”But that cannot be true. Take the handsome Dupain’s, their Marinette is quite the beauty.”

Kagami glowed for her sister, glad she at least may find happiness yet. Mr Agreste had proved amiable in the scant interactions she’d had with him, and the gossip that trailed him gave equally glowing accounts. 

“I must agree, I dare say you found the prettiest face here. I cannot deny you that.”

“I say she’s the prettiest face in all of England.” Kagami smiled at the smitten tone Mr Agreste’s voice had taken. “Same could be said for her sister, Ms Kagami Dupain. I’ve heard she’s of pleasant disposition too.”

Kagami, despite herself, leaned closer to the partition. 

“To that I disagree. She is plain like the rest of them. Cheap decor.”

Her heart quickened and she had half the mind to tear aside the partition and teach him a lesson but her sense soon caught up. She stood, making sure to appear as if simply walking by, and strode across the two men.

She felt his gaze on her again. It was difficult to believe someone who’d watched her so closely might find her indistinguishable from the rest but if that’s what he decided he’d present to the world, she’d act as if he were telling the truth. 

[sizzleissues]

“So you have an English interview tomorrow?”

“Yes,” She mutters, ignoring Tikki as she flutters about. There really isn’t anything to panic about, it’s just a sore throat. She’s checking the gas has come on under the pan when Tikki swoops down, touching her hand (well what she calls hands, more end of limb) to her forehead.

“You’re boiling.”

“I need you to get out of the way so I can get this pan to boil.”

Tikki titters and complains but gets out of the way as mercifully the old gas stove ignites. Marinette straightens, trying not to ruminate on the sudden light headedness as she grabs the olive oil. She isn’t sick. It’s just a cough.

“You need to call in sick to reschedule.”

“No. You only get one shot. The examiner has to go back to England at the end of the week,” she rasps. It’s a wonderful quirk of her college course that 40% of the final grade for her English language class is decided in one twenty minute interview, time slotted over the course of three days. Three incredibly missable days if one thing goes array. But she won’t miss it because she

Isn’t

Sick.

The oil spits out hot flecks, flying onto her exposed arms. She hisses, drawing her hands into her chest. The oil bubbles.

“I’m sure there’s another option.”

Marinette faces Tikki with what she hopes is a withering glare. Six years at her side and Tikki had yet to grasp certain human qualities. For one, sometimes life is going to suck. Other times, you just can’t be sick.

“There isn’t. If I was sick, which I am not, I’d have to do it even if every word felt like sandpaper.” She pauses, finding it difficult to speak for a moment. “I’d do it dead.”

She slides in the cut up chicken with her knife, evening it all out across the pan. Her head pounds with a needle like headache. It’s just bad air, that’s all.

Tomorrow will be different

-

Marinette when she really doesn’t need to be sick right now thank you very much.

(Totally not based on my life right now. I definitely don’t have a speaking exam coming up with what feels like nettles in my throat. This is just writing practice, no venting has occurred xD)