They were ancient. Older than old, wiser than wise. They had seen eras rise and fall. But the Miraculouses continued with what they were determined to do. Fight for what was right, battle evil, and cleanse those who were tainted by its black heart.
But unfortunately, they had flaws themselves.
They always chose a human they thought was worthy. And they were never wrong. Tikki could still remember them. For instance, one was an aristocratic lady, daughter of one of the dukes that lived in the town. The Miraculous could still remember her laugh lines, her amazed look when she saw the outfit on her for the first time.
“Why, I rather think I look nothing like a crime fighter! Tell me, Tikki, what on earth could these curious set of cloths be for?” She’d asked, looking down at herself in awe.
Tikki had giggled, looking over the human. She wore long breeches and a blouse, both red and covered with black dots, ending with black, leather boots. Her long, soft hair was held back in two low pigtails, tied up with red ribbons.
“You cannot be a crimefighter in something so strangling as a corset.” Tikki explained, smiling when the human nodded and grinned, understanding quickly. Yes, a corset was nothing useful for a fighter her human would become.
When Tikki thought back to her, she always laughed. She and Marinette were so different. And yet, perhaps they were not so different at all. At least not in terms of partners.
Plagg’s memory was like a mass of foam. They were there, but piled up on each other in a mess that was hard to tell which memory happened. They stuck together, a chaotic mess mashed together. But sometimes, when Adrien was silently sleeping in bed, the only noise being his breathing and the occasional car outside, Plagg would remember. He would remember his humans well.