[attr="class","aurelie"]

[attr="class","aurelie_body"]As Isaac bent over the gleaming, near-finished blade with a brush in hand and a very rapt, determined look on his face, Aurelie didn't bother to suppress her amused smile at the sight. As earnest and focused as he had been throughout the sword-making process, the prospect of finally adding his creative touch without any guidance or interference from her had intensified both qualities up to 11. The result was honestly endearing to watch.

If she could have read Isaac's mind as he got to work, Aurelie would've been even more amused, if not laughing outright, at the grandiose things he called her. "Capable" she'd happily accept—it was what she most wanted to be described as–but "artistic"? She wasn't bad, but her little brother had been drawing, painting, carving, sculpting, and designing circles around her since he was three.

And "one of the smartest people Isaac had ever known?" Ha! Considering the sheer number of people Isaac knew, there was no way this could be true. Aurelie was bright enough, but surely, she wouldn't measure up to all the scientists, engineers, doctors, professors, scholars, and other geniuses he'd met.

Thankfully, all she saw was that Isaac had picked a nice brass pommel carved with a Gallade in a graceful battle stance. Aurelie smiled approvingly. "Nice choice! I worked especially hard on that one, in hopes of doing justice to my own Gallade. I hope your teacher likes it."

Aurelie chuckled ironically in the face of his energetic pep talk about the "lesson plan" for which she'd "found the path." "Well, I'll do my best, I guess. All I need to do is put some effort into it, right? Just put my back into it, and my heart and soul, and head and shoulders and fingers and toes?"

Letting out a breath, she shrugged and smiled faintly. "But, well, thanks for all the cheerleading and encouragement. Maybe someday I'll grow up big and brave and strong just like you, Isaac."

As if it's easy to go from being a dreamer to a doer, the red-haired smith thought with an internal sigh. Perhaps it was for Isaac. But just knowing the path and seeing the steps needed didn't mean that following it would come intuitively or naturally for her, without some outside advice and guidance.

Taking the pommel from him, she kept an eye on Isaac out of the corner of her eye as she drilled a hole through the brass disc and hunted down a lighter-weight hammer for peening the end of the tang over the pommel. At first, his progress looked excruciatingly slow. For all his preparation and many rough drafts, he seemed frozen with nervousness at first, darting glances her way and breathing rapidly. Then, he bent down and painted...one stroke.

After a few moments of suspenseful stillness, a second brushstroke finally followed. Then, a third, and a fourth. Somewhere in there, Isaac seemed to find his groove, his eye and muscles remembering what he'd been drilling himself on drawing for hours the other day. From there, the brushstrokes flowed from his fingers, fluid yet forceful, as his confidence increased, and the Gyarados steadily took form upon the blade, at once sinuous and ferocious, its scaled body curved in readiness and maw agape.

"Well done," Aurelie murmured thoughtfully, watching him adding final details to the Gyarados' curling whiskers and glinting fangs. "Such an interesting Pokemon, too. Thoroughly unimpressive at first, but then evolves into a true beast."

For a moment, they both simply stood and admired his artwork, looking at the curves and lines in which the clear nail polish gleamed and shimmered in the ambient light of the workshop. Aurelie was sure that the bold design would make for a very striking sword.

While they waited for the nail polish to dry across the blade, Aurelie gently lifted the sword. Fastening the sword into a clamp, with the handle facing up and nothing touching the blade itself, she threaded the Gallade-carved pommel onto the end of the tang. Then, with much gentler and more methodical blows than she'd used to shape the blade, the smith began lightly hammering the end of the tang until it was bent and hooked over the pommel, pinning it in place.

By then, the nail polish had long since dried. With a flourish, she led Isaac over to the acid-etching tank. A faint acrid smell immediately wafted out when she carefully took the lid off. Slowly and cautiously, Aurelie slid the blade into the acid solution and held it inside, counting under her breath.

When she pulled it out, the delicately painted lines of the Gyarados stood out bright and distinct against the high-carbon steel.



"Very nice," she exclaimed admiringly, with a warm smile. "A good day's work, wouldn't you agree, Isaac?"

She laid the sword aside reverently atop the worktable and stretched out her arms and wrists. "What do you say to going out somewhere special this final evening, to celebrate the success of our partnership? And then tomorrow, we can put the final touches and put the sword through some strength and flexibility tests. Wood, bone, terracotta, the works!"

[attr="class","cred"]VEL OF PIXEL PERFECT