Miraculous: Tales of Pandora Possum and Hawk Demask: Origins

Promises and Trust

All night I had fidgeted and fumbled. Theories and ideas had zoomed around in my head, and I couldn't calm my mind down. What were Mr. Morre and Simone talking about? If those were even their real names.

I was woken up by the bright rays of the morning sunlight, shining down on me gaily. Remembering that I had forgotten to shut my curtains the night before, I sleepily got up and closed them. I sat in bed a while longer, but shortly after I was up and ready. As I brushed my hair, I thought about Simone and Mr. Morre's conversation I had overheard. Did they know something about Ladybug and Cat Noir? If so, what? And what did they mean about a threat they knew nothing about? And what was a Miracle Box? Did it have something to do Ladybug's miraculous Ladybug? The whole thing seemed unusual, but I knew what I heard was real. I wasn't imagining. Of course I could never ask about it, I'd be too afraid that they'd kick me out for spying. When my unruly hair finally looked acceptable, and my face had been washed, I opened the door and headed down to the dining room to find something for breakfast. After all I was starving, and ready to maybe learn more about Mr. Morre and Simone.

I had to admit, I lost my way in the huge mansion. It was just so large, that every room looked the same, with the velvety red carpet, and wood walls. Eventually I recognized some of the paintings, which led down a hall leading into the dining area. As I peeped around the corner, I saw Mr. Morre reading a news paper, and Simone on a tablet, reading something herself. I had meant to duck back and maybe over hear something, but Simone saw me right away.

"Austine, come on in!" She said in her usually cheery tone. I smiled, then quietly sat down. Mr. Morre looked over to me, smiling happily.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked.

"Yes, the bed was very comfortable." That wasn't a total lie- I mean the bed was soft, but I wasn't ready to mention my nightmares just yet. Thankfully, Mr. Morre believed me. He turned back to his paper and read it with interest. I examined him closely, trying to find any clues of some wise martial arts master, or something of the sort. Still, he seemed like the same old Mr. Morre I had always known.

"Go ahead and eat what you'd like. Theres plenty of muffins, sausage, and eggs." Simone said, mistaking my curiosity for hunger. I jerked my head towards the food, remembering my hunger.

As I ate the delicious food served to me, I cautiously examined Simone. She was a little more aware than Mr. Morre, so I only glanced at her for a few seconds. She seemed just the same, just a kind middle- aged woman, making her way in the world. She kept smiling down at her tablet, probably reading a funny book or something. I did notice her French accent hadn't been as heavy as it was last night, but other than that she showed no signs of secretly being an assassin, or anything suspicious like that. Given she had an accent, that made me wonder her origin. Since my observation method of gathering information seemed to be getting no where, I decided to try talking.

"On my way down, I noticed all the beutiful pictures on the wall. Were did you get them?" I was hoping Mr. Morre would slip up and reveal something, but he had a very cunning answer instead.

"Ah, those comes from my ancestors, and have now been passed down to me. They're from various places around the world."

I tried thinking up something else to lead onto, but nothing came up. A few seconds later and I tried Simone.

"You have a french accent. Were you raised in France, or perhaps Paris?" I knew right away my question was too sudden. Simone  looked instantly up from her coffee cup, giving me a funny look.

"I've traveled to many placed around the world. I'd be very happy to tell you about them. But as for Paris France, I grew up there. Of course I wanted to see more of the world, and eventually found myself here with my uncle." Simone smiled to Mr. Morre, but I noticed each of them gave a strange look at first.