[attr="class","aurelie"]

[attr="class","aurelie_body"]Aurelie could have gritted her teeth in petty-minded frustration and grudging appreciation when Cillian responded to her explanation of the current saddle's faults graciously and patiently, even encouragingly. It made it so hard to fear and dislike him when he was being nice. Weren't underbosses supposed to spit fire and slit your throat if you so much as breathed wrong in their vicinity?

She managed to say none of this aloud and even smiled appreciatively when he said he could continue to help. "That's very kind of you, sir. Thank you for staying around...and for being so understanding about my errors."

Sucking in a long breath between her teeth, the red-haired smith thought deeply about how best to utilize the unexpected help. "Let me see... Here, let me give you instructions on how to reload the furnace with fresh aluminum and heat it to the right temperature."

Speaking rapidly but as clearly as she could manage, Aurelie began rattling off the series of steps for operating the foundry furnace to melt the aluminum. She guided Cillian through each dial to turn, each button to push, and each screen to monitor, cautioning him repeatedly to keep his distance once the metal started to heat up.

"There," she concluded, slightly out of breath after speaking so much in one go. "That way, you can help with setting up, while I work on improving the sand-casting mold."

With that, the red-haired smith promptly stepped back toward the sand-casting molds, the inverses of the pieces that Cillian had so painstakingly puzzled together. Only when she knelt beside them, taking them apart and bonding them together with resin fixative, did Aurelie wonder if she should've assigned the underboss this task. He was the expert with saddles, after all, not her.

Yet, she was the expert with metal-casting and using sand molds, so perhaps this was still the best way. Stealing glances at Cillian's completed saddle, Aurelie began rearranging and reshaping the mold to make a thinner, lighter, more supple saddle that would be cast all in one piece.

She gasped and then rolled her eye when, at the corner of her vision, she caught sight of the luminous white form of Calyrex hovering precisely between her and Cillian. The King Pokemon looked back and forth between them, before nodding its head deeply. Aurelie let out an exasperated sigh.

"Please tell me that means you approve of this," she grumbled at Calyrex, her voice rising just enough to be audible above the drone of the furnace and the clatter of the molds.

As before, as she expected now, it gave no answer.

"I wish I understood you," she declared with only mild rancor. Glancing up at Cillian, she asked curiously, "Do you know if there was anyone who did know a lot about Calyrex? In Galar, the real Galar, I mean? Anyone who did understand it?"

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

[attr="class","main"]

Lucky for Aurelie, she has not yet breathed wrong.[break][break]

He chuckles at her repeated cautions against standing too close to the forge. He's all too conscious of the heat. He was born in the cold mountains of Galar, not meant for this sort of sweltering environment. Yet he doesn't complain, and he doesn't correct, instead stepping back each time she mentions it. This was not his domain, but it was hers.[break][break]

Standing back from the forge once he'd performed the steps to the dance she'd taught him, Cillian glances over at Aurelie's gasp. At first worried the smith had burned herself or dropped something, he relaxes upon seeing her unharmed.[break][break]

Instead, the regal rabbit returns to grace them with its presence, ever-silent and unhelpful. He presses his lips together to resist a laugh.[break][break]

"I'm afraid all I know comes from storybooks, and they're not the most reliable source." It might seem strange to think of the austere underboss enjoying storybooks... but he'd been a child, once. "I'm sure there's someone out there, though. There's an expert in everything, if you look hard enough." Whether it was Elisabeth Fiorelli's knowledge of toxins or freya morningstar's DRAGONOLOGY. "But, then, our 'experts' brought us those abominations they called fossils."[break][break]

Trust the paleontologist to disparage the Galarian 'fossils'.

[break][break]

[attr="class","aurelie"]

[attr="class","aurelie_body"]Aurelie was glumly, amusedly unsurprised when the underboss echoed what she was beginning to think was the commonly accepted knowledge about Calyrex: namely, that there wasn't much knowledge out there. "Well, it was worth a try! Sadly, you're not the first to tell me that most of what we know about Calyrex comes from legends and stories.

"It really does seem like Calyrex is one of the more mysterious Legendaries out there, which is saying something when it's about Legendaries." Glancing at the hovering figure of Calyrex behind them out of the corner of her eye, she sighed and shrugged matter-of-factly.

"But I guess this is Rocket's opportunity to learn something more substantive and useful about Calyrex, if it's going to be allied with us," the red-haired smith concluded, turning her attention back to reassembling the saddle molds.

Still, though, I wish I knew more, she thought wistfully. I wish I had some way of knowing what it was thinking. She was used to being able to ask questions and receive answers from the customers that came to the Iron Lady Forge, including Cillian himself. This lack of responsiveness unsettled her.

Feeling they'd already discussed the enigmatic Calyrex enough, though, Aurelie cleared her throat and changed the subject. "What do you mean about the 'fossil abominations'? Who brought them to wh..."

Suddenly, her voice trailed off as Calyrex unexpectedly approached her side. Her mouth dropping open in surprise, she watched in silence as the kingly hare visibly leaned forward to inspect the sand molds. Then, it moved toward Cillian and tilted its head back to observe the melting aluminum.

From her vantage point, Aurelie gaped as its mouth subtly, gradually curled upward in a smile. It nodded deeply once, the large green bud on its head bobbing up and down. This was already more reaction than she'd ever gotten from it before.

Then, to her utter shock, it raised one hand—paw? Appendage?—into the air as if holding an invisible cup out, first to Cillian and then to Aurelie. "Is it...toasting us now?" she breathed. "Does that mean it...likes what you and I are making?"

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

[attr="class","main"]

"Stories shouldn't be discounted. Myth and legend usually stems from somewhere." It's with relief that he takes a few steps back from the heat of the forge; Hoenn's humid air has never felt so refreshing. "I've never known Lugia to cause 40-day storms, but she certainly can whip up a hell of a hurricane."
[break][break]

It had never rained so much in Sootopolis as before Lugia had made its Bay her home. But much as she caused a disruption in weather patterns, so too did she shield Rocket's capital from tropical storms.
[break][break]

"Doesn't help that he won't talk much."
[break][break]

He turns to Calyrex with a dry smile, as if to assure the rabbit king that there was no heat behind those words.
[break][break]

He chuckles at the mimed toast, reciprocating in kind. When Cillian smiles, the lines around his eyes deepen. It makes him look almost kind.
[break][break]

But certain predators knew well how to conceal their fangs.
[break][break]

"Well, it certainly doesn't seem to dislike it, so that's good." A shrug. "As to the fossils, have you ever seen an Arctovish? Arctozolt? Dracovish or Dracozolt? Those things aren't meant to live." He laughs. "My Arctovish has to be kept in a special tank so that it doesn't starve, because it can't see its prey to hunt. They're a joke, even in Galar. At least among the scientists who matter."[break][break]

He bites his tongue to stop from going on a rant; she didn't need to hear about the academic discourse. Instead, the underboss nods toward the molds. "How're you feeling about these?"

[break][break]

[attr="class","aurelie"]

[attr="class","aurelie_body"]Aurelie breathed a deep sigh of relief at the Calyrex's gesture of a toast, also interpreting it as a sign of approbation. Then, her eye widened in astonishment when the Pokemon moved closer to the molds and pointed with its small hands at various parts of the saddle and spread its hands wide or pressed them together. Even in silence, she could guess what it was trying to convey.

"So, you mean..." Even in her bewilderment, Aurelie responded swiftly to the unexpected but not at all unwelcome feedback. "This part should be pushed closer to this...and this area should be smaller and more curved... Oh, but this is too tight..."

As she spoke, her hands shifted the molds to make the adjustments, while Calyrex watched benignly. At last, when she looked up questioningly, it nodded once to the red-haired smith. Then, as unpredictable and elusive as ever, it disappeared from view in a ghostly glimmer of white and green.

Explosively, Aurelie blew out the breath she'd been holding. "Well, I'm certainly feeling a little more positive about these molds now," she chuckled in response to Cillian's question. "Or at least, more certain. That helped a lot."

She straightened up from the molds and stretched out her weary arms and back, which felt cramped after bending over the molds for so long. Then, she nudged the molds closer to the blazing-hot foundry that held the now-molten aluminum.

"All right, let's pour in the metal and see how the saddle turns out," Aurelie exclaimed expansively, instructing the mechanized furnace to do just that.

As the air around them shimmered intensely with the relentless, formidable heat, she drew Cillian away toward the area where the shield awaited construction. Only then did the underboss' comments about both his Lugia and about fossils penetrate past the fog of saddle creation and metal in her mind.

"As for the fossils that you were talking about..." She smiled sheepishly. "I had no idea about all of that. I have an Amaura, and I know a little of Shieldon and Bastiodon, but...

"I never realized that fossil Pokemon could be so limited," she admitted, tilting her head to one side as she regarded the underboss. "I can tell you know much more about fossils and paleontology than I do! Was that the area of science you pursued in the past?"

Aurelie sucked in her breath pensively. Her curiosity getting the better of her, she ventured, "Do you...miss it? Or regret not being able to engage in it more?"

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

[attr="class","main"]

Cillian watches the two of them with amused interest, a soft chuckle bubbling in his throat when Calyrex disappears once more.[break][break]

They move away from the furnace as it works its magic, and Aurelie circles back to their earlier talk of fossils. There's an unmistakable spark in the eyes of the Rocket underboss, a brief but genuine smile gracing his lips.[break][break]

"Most aren't," he says of their limitations, shaking his head. "Sure, you have to be careful about ensuring their needs are met like any other Pokémon, but if you chucked a Lileep into the ocean, it'd probably survive. The fossils out of Galar — I mean, you've seen pictures, surely? They don't even look right."[break][break]

His earlier smile returns, broadening to a grin. "That obvious? Yeah, I took my PhD in paleontology." His expression sobers when she asks if he misses it, and he shakes his head. "No regrets, no. Duty bound, and all that." He doesn't think it necessary to elaborate on what duty he means. Rocket is everything to him. There are few more devoted. "I still indulge in my spare time, of course. I have a revival machine in my basement!" He doesn't even realise the slip of the tongue; his house isn't meant to have a basement. But Aurelie doesn't know that, at least. "So feel free to hit me up if you ever come across an intact fossil. I usually won't charge Rockets for the service."[break][break]

It was expensive and usually unaffordable for those living on a typical Rocket paycheck; truly, he just wanted an excuse to bring more fossils to life.

[break][break]

[attr="class","aurelie"]

[attr="class","aurelie_body"]Aurelie felt profoundly relieved to see the underboss' attention focusing elsewhere, on a subject that wasn't her. She felt as if a searchlight had been pulled off her and trained onto another suspect. Besides, it was always fascinating and startling to learn more about Rocket leadership's interests and passions and to remember that they were people, even if some acted like it more than others.

However, when it came to the specifics of Cillian's knowledge of paleontology, she was quickly lost. As someone who'd never thought much about Pokemon until recently—who'd arrived in Hoenn with only two Pokemon to her name, in fact—Aurelie always felt at sea in any discussion of Pokemon biology.

And fossils? She'd never paid any attention to those. So, the red-haired smith listened and nodded along politely but uncomprehendingly as Cillian happily offered his fossil revival machine, with a sparkle in his amber eyes that she'd only previously seen with her suggestion to make him a pen knife.

Meanwhile, Aurelie stolidly brought the sheet of metal that would eventually become Calyrex's shield over to one of the many intimidating-looking saws ranged along a worktable. Bright sparks flew as she began cutting the shield into the heraldic shape that they'd both agreed was superior.

Over the thin whine of the saw blade, she commented neutrally, "I admit, I can't say I share your fascination with either fossils or paleontology, sir. But maybe at another, better time, I'd enjoy learning about the subject from you. Or watching you revive a fossil with your machi—

"Oh, damn it!" She swore and violently reached out to switch off the saw, glaring down at the metal sheet. Aurelie grimaced. "Ugh! I looked away for a second because I thought I saw Calyrex again, and I cut a little bit too far. Gah!"

For a moment, she pursed her lips and stared at the ragged edge, wondering if she dared weld the two metal pieces together. If I do, though, that'll always be a weak point in the shield, Aurelie reminded herself. And the last thing you want in a shield is any kind of weakness that glaring.

With a grumble, she tossed the metal sheet aside and trudged back to the stack of metal ingots next to the forge. Taking up the tongs again, she carefully eyed the stack of metal ingots and selected another one, seemingly identical to the first. Her face wore a formidable frown, as if mortally offended by her own second of inattention, as she turned on the forge, never blinking at the blast of heat that surged toward her.

"Hmph, I regret everything, she groused, her voice barely audible over the roar of the forge. Then, Aurelie glanced back up at Cillian, reminded of something by her own words.

Raising her voice so that he could hear her better, she ventured, "You were saying something earlier about not having any regrets. Because of your duty. To...well, this. Us." She gestured widely at the warehouse room around them, encompassing everything inside it and everything it represented. "Is that true for the rest of your life too? Not having regrets? Or just paleontology?"

She couldn't help thinking of Isaac, as she asked, and his account of surviving a bullet shot from Cillian's gun.

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

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He watches her work with the same polite-yet-uneducated interest that she'd offered his talk of fossils, scrunching up his nose a bit at the sound of the saw biting into metal.[break][break]

"It's certainly not for everyone," he offers breezily, to assure her there was no harm in their lack of shared passion. It was a shame; the ones who shared his passions for history, fossils, and archaeology either hated him (howard slayte) or were the subject of his hatred (Remiel Calcifet).[break][break]

He tenses as Aurelie Lefevre breaks off with a curse, subconsciously flinching back a little from her sharp gestures. Flustered, he does his best to compose himself and hopes she was too worked up by her own frustrations to notice the instinctive fear response.[break][break]

"I was worried I'd distracted you!" He plays it off as best he can, just in case.[break][break]

Wisps of his SHADOW MIASMA play around him, summoned by a fight-or-flight instinct that had apparently landed on the former.[break][break]

Us, Aurelie invokes, over the roar of the forge. Rocket. Cillian nods, understanding. He's not surprised when she asks if he has regrets; it's clear enough by his lack of reaction that he's been asked before.[break][break]

"There is no point in regretting what we can't change. It only brings us pain." He's thinking of Lulu Flint, and how he'd never said goodbye. Of Rowan Wrynn, and how he'd failed to keep him safe in Rocket. Of how he'd ended things with Emma, or rushed into them with THEO BECKETT. But he does not think, as Aurelie might hope, of Isaac Merlo. "So, no. No regrets."

[break][break]

[attr="class","aurelie"]

[attr="class","aurelie_body"]"No, it wasn't anything you did. Sorry for the outburst," Aurelie assured him distractedly, too focused on her work to notice anything unusual about Cillian's flustered reaction. She didn't blink as he deftly covered for his momentary lapse or look up to discern the Shadow Miasma wisps that briefly curled around him.

Nor would she have understood it if she had seen it. Cillian Quinn, even feeling a moment's fear around her? Aurelie had spent the whole day being afraid of him. Why would a random swear word from her elicit anything from him but mild disapproval for her show of bad manners?

She would probably never know why. And perhaps she was safer and happier not knowing.

Aurelie did wince when he far more comfortably and freely admitted he felt no real regrets about his choices. No regrets at all? Nothing? she wondered. But how...? And...what has he seen in his life that he doesn't seem to grieve over killing people for Rocket?

"I envy you that," she admitted frankly, meeting Cillian's gaze. "The part about not having any regrets ever, I mean. I guess I can theoretically understand that regrets don't do anything but make us feel bad.

"But...understanding and feeling it to be true are two different things, to me. It doesn't stop me from still looking back over my mistakes and wishing I'd done things differently, you know?" She smiled sadly, wistfully.

"And it doesn't help that there are beings in Hoenn and the other regions—or maybe other universes—that have the power to change the past. Or make it seem like you can, anyway. Celebi. Dialga. Heck, the recent incarnation of Father Winter at Hoennyule this year!"

Then, Aurelie's smile twisted into something wry and amused. "Or the dream of a legendary Galarian hare king."

Letting out a long sigh, the red-haired smith shrugged her shoulders and turned her attention gratefully back to the things she knew: metal and fire. She hefted one of the ingots in her tongs, only to glance back at the saddle mold that had cooled while they talked. Pressing her lips together, Aurelie shook her head and reached out to switch off the forge only a few minutes after she'd turned it on.

"I guess the shield will have to wait for another day," she murmured, putting down the tongs and turning around. "Let's see how the new saddle turned out, shall we?

"We can compare and contrast this version with the iteration you puzzled together earlier," she added. "See if it's something you think looks suitable for riding."

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

[attr="class","main"]

Cillian knows muted relief when she shows no reaction to his own. Such vulnerability was often concealed beneath an expert's mask, but he'd been caught off guard by his proximity to her outburst and his own relaxed state.[break][break]

His guard remains up, now, even when she calms down and speaks normally.[break][break]

It wasn't her he'd been afraid of. In raised voices and sharp gestures, it is always the shadow of those who'd created the monster that was Cillian Quinn.[break][break]

Those who'd taught him to kill in Rocket's name, and to not regret.[break][break]

Aurelie expresses envy, meeting his gaze.[break][break]

"You shouldn't."[break][break]

He offers no further insight. Let her decide for herself what demons lurked behind those simple words.[break][break]

"Mm. I think 'Father Winter' showed as well as anything the consequences of meddling in timelines." The Butterfly Effect. One small change could inspire a storm. Cillian cannot share in her amusement, remaining somber. "One small shift could change everything. Is anything worth that instability? What would you be willing to sacrifice for your change?"[break][break]

Evidently, his experience had rattled him.[break][break]

He's more than happy to return to talk of shields and saddles.[break][break]

"Sure," he agrees, easily enough. But his earlier mood does not return. He steps up next to the previously assembled saddle to critique them. "It already looks a great deal better, and this one's got Calyrex's approval besides. The pieces fit together far more smoothly, also."

[break][break]

[attr="class","aurelie"]

[attr="class","aurelie_body"]Her amusement subdued by Cillian's somberness about Father Winter, Aurelie sighed and nodded in grave agreement with his assessment of that mysterious figure. "Yeah, you're right about Father Winter and meddling with timelines. It's a powerful and dangerous thing.

"But I think that's also what makes the possibility so seductive to think about, too. After all, power and danger can be terribly seductive, right? At least, sometimes." She shrugged and cleared her throat uncomfortably. "But not worth it in the end, I agree."

As for his comment about whether she should envy the underboss or not, she let it pass. No one could ever know for certain what someone else was struggling with in life. Though now, she had to admit she was a little curious. But also scared to really learn more about him.

Besides, what would Aurelie do with such knowledge? Help him out of compassion, or use it against him out of hatred? She certainly felt both emotions toward him, and neither was stronger than the other. That was what made this whole situation—and life in general—so complicated.

So, she too was happy to turn her attention to mundane things that she could actually do something about: the shield and saddle. Aurelie nodded attentively as the underboss studied the remade saddle and commented on its form. Despite his dispassionate tone, she smiled.

"Yes, I think this is a better foundation for the saddle than the previous shape. Again, not through any fault of yours," she hastened to add. "My design was just poorly put together."

Putting her hands on her hips, Aurelie mused, "It'll still need stirrups, cinches, buckles, and straps all molded separately in thinner, smaller molds. They'll need to be lighter and more flexible, after all. And then those separate parts will need to be welded on, probably with the oxyacetylene torch..."

Then, she broke off and ran both hands rapidly through her hair, letting out a long breath. "But...that doesn't have to all happen today. It's getting late." She glanced up at the clock on the far wall and whistled. "Later than I thought! Arceus, I didn't even realize how long we've been working in here."

Turning to Cillian, the red-haired smith broke into a grin, hesitated, and then bowed deeply toward him. "Thank you for your help today. I...admit I didn't expect you, and it wasn't easy... But I appreciate it. I'm very grateful."

Even as she said, Aurelie realized she was telling the truth.

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

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"That they can."[break][break]

Had not his entire life been the pursuit of power, and the embrace of the danger that came with it?[break][break]

"The first design was merely a prototype." He offers a wink. He'd meant what he said earlier about science, about trial and error and learning from mistakes. "This will be your masterpiece."[break][break]

He, too, turns his attention to the clock.[break][break]

Eyes widen with surprise.[break][break]

"It is late, isn't it?" Poor Tempest Quinn was probably wondering what's become of him. This hadn't been a planned intrusion of Aurelie Lefevre's time. She thanks him profusely for the help, and he offers a brief but genuine smile. "I'm happy to have helped, however I could."[break][break]

For the glory of Team Rocket, of course.[break][break]

"Do let me know when you've finished; I'd love to see the final product."

[break][break]

[attr="class","aurelie"]

[attr="class","aurelie_body"]And thus, they parted with handshakes, courteous smiles, and—perhaps surprisingly, yet perhaps at the same time understandably—warm feelings all around.

If neither the saddle nor shield were completed yet, well, Aurelie hadn't expected them to take only a day to make. After all, this was only the beginning of a project for which she'd estimated a duration of a week at the absolute, barest minimum—and probably far longer, because it was a special request from a very unique Pokemon allied with Rocket.

After Cillian had departed, the red-haired smith lingered for a few moments in the immense warehouse workshop. As she quietly put away tools and turned off the machines and lights, Aurelie smiled at the sight of the saddle's foundation, before frowning at the metal that would've formed the shield.

At least, he helped me decide on a shape for the shield, she reminded herself. And of course, he helped a great deal with both versions of the saddle. The messy, overcomplicated one and the simpler, Calyrex-approved one.

He...helped. He really did. Aurelie didn't know why, but the simple thought stunned her.

He had helped her; he'd been thoughtful and polite. Yet, the only reason he'd done so was for the sake of Rocket—the very organization that also authorized him to kill mercilessly, decreed that its members clash with the League amidst a world-ending catastrophe, and sent its people on enigmatic treasure hunts against unknown horrors and perils.

He's a lot like Rocket as a whole, Aurelie thought slowly, placing a wrench in a toolbox and closing the lid with a click. Much like the past deeds for which Cillian claimed to feel no regrets, there was both good and bad in him and in the organization he served.

Small wonder that this Calyrex chose to ally with Rocket. And yet, small wonder that League members both good and bad, virtuous and cruel, sought to destroy Rocket. Small wonder that she herself couldn't always decide if she ultimately wanted to follow Rocket, topple it entirely, or transform it from within.

One thing at a time, the red-haired smith told herself, shuddering. At the door, she flicked off the last light switch, plunging the whole workshop into darkness.

Tomorrow and the next day, I'll refine the saddle. Then after that, I'll start working on the shield. An escutcheon, with spikes—or maybe just bosses or rivets. As Aurelie shut the door behind her, a faint chuckle escaped her.

I wonder who'll show up tomorrow to help me. Will it be Cillian again? Or someone else? Or no one at all, so I don't struggle with moral dilemmas every time I ask a question or hand them a hammer? She looked out of the corner of her eye for a telltale flash of white. And will Calyrex show up again? Who knows...?

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