Savoir-faire – To Know and To Do
XXV: Agir – To Act
Day 56: Morning found me back at the Coumarine Hotel. It is a serious coincidence that I found Wikstrom here too.
I have decided upon a course of action...
...After I buy out the seaside marketplace.
Les rêves des amoureux sont comme le bon vin, ils donnent de la joie ou bien du chagrin...
I hummed along the mental tune, my bags filled with goodies that I planned to prepare at the common kitchen in the Coumarine Hotel before we set out. "Who knew that a Gardevoir could sing that well."
Darkrai's leg grew out, and he spun in an absent pivot. She was in a troupe, performing in Coumarine, communicated he, so serious and endearing. Operatic, according to her.
" Les Dames Blanches, " I recalled. "Mmm, yes, I recall. How did that song go... Triste et tellement seule, je te recherche..."
" Laissant aller... " came the same voice. " Tout ce qui autrefois comptait pour moi... "
"Bonjour," I offered to the singing Gardevoir floating alongside Lestrade. "And hello again, Mr Lestrade."
"Dr du Bois," the man with salt-and-pepper hair offered. "Altair, too. You found a Darkrai? I thought they were restricted to New Moon Island."
"He's my research assistant," I replied. "Is this your client?"
"May I introduce Droite, leading lady of Les Dames Blanches," Lestrade gave a theatrical bow. "Since, well, I wrapped up shooting of « L'histoire en commençant » , Holmes's agent asked me to represent Droite in a prospective recording."
"Impressive," I told the Gardevoir, who blushed and made a little courtly bow.
"We're going to record Synchro , a new album," Lestrade continued. "It's a bit stressful, so- excuse me," he broke off as a set of screams echoed behind him. Turning around, Lestrade exhaled loudly. "Holmes. Put the shopkeeper down."
The Serperior was followed by the sharp, low yip of a Stoutland. The Stoutland carried a basket in his maw; the Serperior just glared at all and sundry.
"I hope he isn't performing," I murmured as Holmes twirled around Lestrade.
"Hell no," Lestrade automatically replied, looking at the stall-keeper tangled in part of a grassy tail. "Holmes, no eating the stall-keepers. We can afford not to put you in lock-up on your downtime. Watson, watch him."
"If you are cheating, I think I shall pass," I gently told the stall-keeper, making my way to the fruits and vegetables. "I'm not exactly quite sure what is it you do, Mr Lestrade, to be so far from Virbank City. Or was it Nimbasa?"
"Producer, director... looking to branch into agencies," Lestrade demurred. "Call me Greg, please. Well, I lived out part of my life in Lentimas Town before I travelled to Virbank, starting out small... Hit pay dirt with Holmes, but he was a nightmare to work with. Is. Just... marginally less after Watson came in. Imagine the producer's face when I told him to put my Stoutland on crew."
"I understand that you are Holmes's owner as well?" I asked.
Lestrade snorted. "No. His owner's a big cheese in Castelia, managed to make it to the Leagues, from what I heard until he hung up the hat for a suit. The Serperior had acting potential and it was bored, so for a lark Mr Holmes signed him up."
Hanging up the hat. An Unovan expression for "He named his Pokémon after himself?"
"No, the Serperior Holmes name was a gimmick," Lestrade answered. "He doesn't really answer to that name, Holmes, any more than Watson would answer to his own show moniker. Least it's better than that dark vigilante thing I pitched to the studios. Couldn't find a good actor."
"So both of them suffer from naming syndrome, or do they already have their own names, of which they project in their mind?" I mused as the Serperior finally relented, leaving the embarrassed merchant to leave the marketplace.
" Alors, où est-ce que nous allons? " Droite questioned, her voice high and sweet.
" Nous faisons du shopping, " I replied, picking up a packet of baking soda to add to the bottle of olive oil before I considered the next bottle. "Darkrai, what do you think about teriyaki?"
What is that?
"Soya sauce, mirin, and sugar, made into a glaze for meat and served in la viande déglacée. Right, you're in for a treat." I bought the soya sauce, noting the price. Maybe that light dessert wine...
We parted ways, Lestrade and I exchanging Caster numbers to arrange for something, sometimes. I had the feeling that Lestrade was already spoken for, but having a mildly intelligent conversation partner was almost a relief. I considered the merits and drawbacks of befriending someone like Lestrade halfway through the fishmonger's, and decided that another ally was perhaps a good thing. "What do you think of Mr Lestrade, the both of you?"
Altair paused. The last time you took that tone, you transferred ownership of Vega and I to Professor Sycamore, and let yourself get lost in the Lost Hotel. Are you intending to repeat that?
"No," I assured them, checking out the patterns by the street cobbler. "Darkrai, I am... how do you feel about Unova?"
Unova? Both of them echoed.
"Altair, especially..." I frowned. "
There is a lot more to explore in this world," I murmured. "This fieldwork can take up to one, maybe two years, but, if we can... maybe, perhaps, a trip to Unova. There is a theme park there, and with it a Ferris wheel."
A Ferris wheel...?
"It's a large, wheel-like structure, on which several gondolas hang from," I related. "People ride it for fun. It's... how do I say it. When one rides it feels like, for an instant, the entire world lies within their grasp. And, when you ride it with another person, for an instant, you create a dialogue between two people at the top of the world. Like climbing the top of a mountain, you look down upon all other people, that feeling."
And... is this fun?
"Quite." I nodded. "Altair, we've never rode the Ferris wheel together, right?"
We've never been to Unova together, and carnivals are rare, Altair corrected. The closest thing is the view from Prism Tower, I believe.
"Mmm, ah," I noted. "How about this, Darkrai. When we reach Lumiose City, shall we climb the Prism Tower together and watch the sunset? Then, if we get to that Unova trip, we can ride the wheel together."
That's... that's too much, Marguerite. To spend so much on me-
"As my research assistant, it's work expenses," I promised. "Before that, though... what do you think about Léa Morelle?"
Léa Morelle?
What does she have to do with this? Altair questioned.
"How many families named Morelle exist in Kalos?" I questioned. "The Morelle is a violent family. And... if she approaches closer, my research is at stake."
So what do you propose to do?
Wikstrom came to pick up my bags at eleven, eyeing the special goods I had bought from that hobby store near the seaside. I had dismissed them for the evening. "Interesting choice."
"Did you know that Ramos is renovating the Coumarine Gym?" I asked as he assisted me with my bags. "Oh, I'm headed there now."
"But what do you intend with stump remover?"
I smiled.
Wikstrom left me at the Coumarine Gym, where I found the kitchen and began cooking the stump remover and sugar. Surprising, what kind of videos made it on the Holo Caster network sometimes. So tempting sometimes.
That was where Donar and the rest of them found me, sticking a thick pen into a hardened, thickened caramel-coloured mix of potassium nitrate, sugar, sodium bicarbonate and powdered dye set in a cardboard tube. Beside me stood three more tubes at attention, all with their own pens.
"You called Shauna here, Dr du Bois?" Donar asked me as I dusted my hands and left the tubes. Behind him, Léa stood with Pumpkaboo, clinging onto the Pumpkin Pokémon gingerly.
"I did," I answered, watching my other saucepan cooking gently on the stove with the diced peel within. "Try this peel later. Léa, you mentioned that you need Oran Berry oil, right?"
"Yes..." Léa nodded.
I handed her a garlic press.
"What's this?" Léa eyed it.
"Use that, squeeze the Oran peel when you've removed it, collect the oil squeezed out," I answered. "Make sure everything's clean."
"Uhm, thanks," Léa doubtfully replied, sniffing the air. "What are you making?"
"Candied Oran peel," I began picking some of the peel out, setting onto a plate to dry. "I think we call it fruit glacé in Kalos. Not bad."
"I'll say," Donar looked impressed. "The tubes?"
"Bombs."
"What? Why are you making bombs- I'd rather not know," Donar decided, rather unilaterally.
"This scent is awesome," Shauna inhaled deeply. "What's that... undertone?"
"The bombs," I chided, laying out the roll of duct tape. "Have either of you started your Gym battles yet?"
"Yeah," Serena doubtfully eyed my temporary workstation. "That's... a lot of stuff. Can I have some candied peel, s'il vous plaît? "
"Wait until it cools in about an hour," I dumped the honey-coated saucepan for a quick wash and soak as I rifled around inside for the beeswax, setting it beside my leftover peel and the bottle of newly bought almond oil I got this morning. "Well, I thought since I had some leftover beeswax from the Combee, I might as well make some solid perfume with the Oran oil I shall get from this peel."
"Can this... work?" Léa looked doubtful.
"There are many ways of extracting perfumed oils," I confirmed, tearing the peel to fit into my own garlic press while I grabbed a small container. "Cold pressing is one of the easiest processes. If you press..."
The fragrant yellow liquid dribbled out of the sieve, slowly, drop by drop.
"You'll have to do it in batches, but it's quite effective," I commented as I continued squeezing. "You need a storage container already prepared, but it's possible to make a long-lasting perfume from these ingredients."
"So you have the oil," Serena commented.
"Now, I prepare a small saucepan of hot water," I commented, readying the slightly sticky saucepan again. "Meanwhile, I measure out what I need. One tablespoon almond oil and one tablespoon beeswax... leave to melt..."
As the water burbled, I ignored them to continue working. These craft projects, ones I took up when I was confined to the hospital following that time years ago... they were second nature to me now, little craft projects undertaken to keep from going completely insane with boredom.
"Eight to fifteen drops essential oil or more, since we're using imperfect oils here... add to the almond oil and beeswax, stir with a small stick, and pour into this nice little box I picked up at the market this morning."
"Whoa..." Shauna blinked as the finished product was set out, a small porcelain box big enough to allow a finger to fit inside and richly decorated with green glaze in the Johto tradition. "This is real perfume?"
"Mmm," I answered, measuring out another measure of beeswax and almond oil. Cedar-wood, two bottles, would be handy as both insect repellent and to scent the Focus Sash I gave Altair. I had a mountain of Berries to handle and transform into preserved candies for the lean times up the Montagnes, assuming Donar and I lasted that long, and meanwhile a Morelle to handle before the Cent-Feuilles caught up with Donar.
Well, best to keep busy.
Sometimes I hate Dr du Bois.
I mean, I love eating her cooking – I swear, I ate better with Dr du Bois than at some top restaurants – and she was damned competent and knowledgeable, while at the same time rather cold and sarcastic and calm under pressure. All of which was completely aimed to undermine and make even the most talented Trainer feel inadequate.
Even the fact that she built smoke bombs in the Coumarine Gym kitchen. It didn't change the fact that she built a bloody bomb in the kitchen. With sugar.
"You built it. With sugar." Serena was echoing. "How?"
"Never mind that," Noël was already close to worshipping the Doctor over the candied peel. "Viva Dr du Bois!"
"Well, I'll probably fail at Home Economics," Shauna laughed uneasily. "What about you, Serena?"
"D- Don't even mention it, Shauna..." Well, that was obvious.
"Then, Donar, do you know any good cooks?" Shauna asked. "Back in Kanto, I mean."
"Kanto?" I blinked. "Well..."
"What's she asking about?" Noël asked Dr du Bois.
"Kanto, Johto, Hoenn and Sinnoh used to be one continent called Ransei," Dr du Bois explained. "There are certain cultural stereotypes regarding gender roles there. The idea that women should be placed in the homes, supporting the soldiers that went out to make war on their neighbours for reasons both political and social alike was very popular during the bakufu era of centralised rule from Saffron City. They even have a specific name for it; the Nadeshiko Yamato."
"Yamato Nadeshiko?" I asked.
"Basically, the ideal Ransei woman," Dr du Bois warningly replied. "Good at cooking, good at home-making, but unafraid to fight. That cultural norm scuppered any chance of women entering the workforce until the division of Kanto and Johto and the development of Kanto's businesses."
"Whoever married you must have struck the lottery," Noël offered.
"You were married to Daisy Linden's brother, weren't you?" Serena spoke up.
I saw Dr du Bois pause.
"...in theory."
"In theory? How does one get married in theory?"
"A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle," Dr du Bois loftily replied. "But when you're me, you can overcome the glass ceiling by finding an accident-prone flirt, and then, when the vows are finished, and the groom is walking out of the church... everyone pities a widow, you know."
"You suck," Serena turned away.
I saw Dr du Bois relax then, as if the question had disturbed her. She was Daisy's sister-in-law... wasn't it?
"What is your work, exactly?" Noël asked.
"I research into the society of Trainers," Dr du Bois explained. "There are a lot of Pokémon professors, but what about Trainer professors? We use theories to explain social occurrences."
"So... it explains history?" Noël asked.
"Max Weber said this: that sociology was 'the science whose object is to interpret the meaning of social action and thereby give a causal explanation of the way in which the action proceeds, and the effects which it produces.' By 'action', in this definition is meant as the human behaviour when and to the extent that the agent or agents see it as subjectively meaningful." She took a deep breath. "The meaning to which we refer may be either (a) the meaning actually intended either by an individual agent on a particular historical occasion, or by a number of agents on an approximate average in a given set of cases, or (b) the meaning attributed to the agent or agents, as types, in a pure type constructed in the abstract. In neither case is the 'meaning' to be thought of as somehow objectively 'correct' or 'true' by some metaphysical criterion. This is the difference between the empirical sciences of action, such as sociology and history, and any kind of prior discipline, such as jurisprudence, logic, ethics, or aesthetics, whose aim is to extract from their subject-matter 'correct' or 'valid' meaning."
"Dr du Bois... that totally flew over my head," I replied.
"For example... why do people set out to be Pokémon Trainers?" Dr du Bois crossed her legs. "And after becoming a Pokémon Trainer, why desert that path?"
"That's... a rather deep question," Shauna blinked.
"Isn't is common sense?" Léa demanded. "To learn about Pokémon!"
"Instead of chasing after such high ideals," Dr du Bois continued, "consider the spread of data we have. Noël Duval, you wish to become the next Gym Leader of Snowbelle. Shauna of Vaniville, you have your own reason. Léa Morelle, you did as your mother wished. Serena also followed her parents' lead to become a Pokémon Trainer. Donar basically has peer pressure, since he has no initial motivation."
"Oi," I said, without heat.
"If we follow this cause-and-effect chain, we can hypothesis that people become Trainers because they have something to seek," Dr du Bois continued. "Be it memories with friends, the Championship, possession of the Gym, searching for something to do, then a Trainer's journey becomes less idealistically constructed and more socially programmed. For example, why do such things like Trainer schools exist? In fact, why do we need regulations like Trainer licenses? Do Trainer licenses work? Apparently not, since criminals still do have Pokémon work for them. So, what does it actually regulate? After all, do people really need a piece of plastic to be acknowledged as a Pokémon Trainer? And then, exactly what determined that a Trainer must traverse the whole region to pursue their goal? How did cross-region travel become a requirement too? Those are part of the questions that come with every task set out."
Dr du Bois then activated her Holo Caster, bringing up a basic sketch to project onto the table. She continued as if she hadn't just blown our minds. "First, we examine the cultural assumptions about being a trainer, beginning with the veil of glamour over the job..."
I remember, seated there and eating candied peel and surrounded in the scents of various Berries and a hint of sourness. In that tornado of scents, in that storm of the kitchen, faced with the creator of such a storm, I could not help but feel overwhelmed when faced with its female general.
Her Holo Caster beeped.
"Oh," Dr du Bois stood. "Oh. That reminds me. Does anyone want to see the musical, 'Synchro'?"
"A musical?" I blinked.
"The one performed by Les Dames Blanches," Serena exclaimed. "You have tickets?"
"Yes," Dr du Bois nodded. "Does anyone want to go?"
"You're not going, Doctor?"
"I have a date."
A date? A date? "Are you kidding me?"
"Why would I?" Dr du Bois slyly looked back, belting one of the finished and wrapped smoke bombs onto her belt. "I shall wear midnight and have fun. Don't wait up, Donar."
We, as in Noël, Shauna, Serena, Léa and I, went with Darkrai. Those tickets were the kind that meant that we got box seats, watching the large stage set in a cavernous theatre and the performance. You would not believe the shock of my life when the leading lady and man turned out to be a Gardevoir and a Gallade respectively.
"Où es-tu?"
"Où es-tu?"
"T- They're talking..." I stuttered. There was no telepathy; the echoes in my ears were of near-flawless Kalosian, sung in pitched notes.
"They're Gauche and Droite!" Serena whispered to us. "They're the brother-sister duo who leads the troupe performers!"
"Est-ce que tu m'entends ?"
"Je te cherche."
"Je suis si seule..."
"Ne perds pas espoir, j'arrive !"
"Je t'attends."
Dr du Bois, in all her infinite wisdom, forgot to mention that it was a Pokémon performing troupe. I only got the clue when the Gardevoir began belting out in song:
Dans ce faux paradis dont je suis prisonnière,
Loin, très loin dans ce gouffre au plus profond de la terre.
Je suis condamnée à exprimer mon chagrin,
Venant d'un passé dont je ne sais rien...
J'ai perdu ma place dans le fil de l'histoire,
Mais me raccroche à la voix que j'entends dans le noir
Et je répéterai ces mots jusqu'à ma mort,
J'abandonne mon corps à ce sort.
Malgré mon ignorance,
J'ai vécu toute ma vie,
Connaissant les chants de l'existence.
La chanson du soleil,
La chanson de la pluie,
L'ensemble formant une douce mélodie.
J'avance sur le chemin,
Menant au paradis,
Vers moi se tendent de chaleureuses mains.
Pourquoi ne peuvent-elles pas atteindre l'endroit où je suis?
Sings a Mawile: "Tu continueras à chanter à jamais."
Le monde d'en bas se meurt, et je ne peux rien changer,
Je ne connais que la peur d'entendre cette voix s'arrêter.
Dormir dans ce doux chant du passé, d'une époque oubliée...
C'est pour ça que je crois,
Que mon sourire doit vaincre mes larmes même si à force, je m'y noie.
Darkrai was very excited; he was nearly hanging over the edge. Frankly, so was I, as the Gallade's own voice echoed. From the circling of Gallade, Gardevoir and Mawile, I could tell that the Mawile was mocking both Gardevoir and Gallade, who were conversing.
"J'entends cet appel... Mais... D'où vient-il ?"
"Il résonne au plus profond de moi..."
"Est-ce seulement réel... ? Je veux comprendre !"
"Attends-moi !"
The pair of them, Gallade and Gardevoir, could sing, and sing in Kalosian they did. I mean, very well. Even I, a complete beginner, could tell of the effort behind singing when the Gallade, Gauche, stepped up with Droite's backing:
Dans ce triste paradis dont je suis la frontière,
Je cherche la voix perdue,
celle qui m'était si chère.
À errer dans chaque rue,
De plus en plus loin,
C'est ainsi qu'est dicté mon destin.
Dans l'ombre de l'histoire enfin achevée,
Je désire absolument reprendre ces jours volés.
Cette voix en écho tout au fond de mon cœur,
Semblait libérer toute sa douleur...
Je ne souhaite pas trouver,
L'éternel paradis,
Peu m'importe où il se trouve caché.
Il déforme les voix,
Qui me guident vers lui,
Et me tire, me faisant progresser.
De mes propres mains, je voudrais tant vérifier,
La chaleur de ta réalité.
Pour cela, je n'hésiterai pas,
À être blessé... !
Je chante toujours pour toi !
Si je me bats, c'est parce que j'y crois !
De cette voix rugissante, je prends l'âme pour laisser,
S'écrire ce monde qui m'a hanté, et dormir pour l'éternité.
Si je ne peux t'atteindre, mais après avoir laissé la lumière s'éteindre,
Je mettrai simplement fin à ce faux paradis...
Au péril de ma vie !
Dans ce faux paradis dont je suis prisonnière...
Dans ce triste paradis dont je suis la frontière...
Je suis condamnée à exprimer mon chagrin...
"Ha ha ha ha!" the Mawile sings again.
Venant d'un passé dont je ne sais rien...
C'est ainsi qu'est dicté mon destin...
"S'il te plaît, chante!" the Mawile pleads.
Je prie pour que règne encore...
(Je me bats jusqu'à la mort...)
Ce lumineux univers.
(Tuant cet univers.)
Des sourires pour ceux qui veulent...
(Je t'ai vu y pleurer seule...)
De l'éclat de ce monde, brillant à jamais.
(Oui, je le détruirai.)
Pour tous les jours à venir...
(Pour le passé à ternir...)
Un espoir, à travers cette chanson.
(Par cette chanson...)
Ma vie, elle te l'ait dédiée...
(Ta vie m'a été volée...)
Donner ma voix avec tout mon cœur et laisser un vent nouveau l'emporter jusqu'à ma mort!
(Ta présence se dissipe et disparaît, sous la pluie qui tombera jusqu'à ma mort !)
It mocks: " L'histoire se répète. "
Les voix rencontrent la lumière, éblouies par son éclat,
Elles ne prennent qu'un seul choix,
Celui de retourner dans l'ombre et l'histoire se répétera... !
Les battements du cœur du monde retentissent, annoncent la fin!
Les cloches cessent et les vies fondent, il n'y a plus de lendemain... !
Dans le paradis d'ombres et de lumières, les existences ont repris,
Si cela m'est permis, laisse-moi s'il te plaît réaliser mon souhait ici !
As the curtains fell on the second act, I wondered how was she doing...
I was admired.
It's not a strange occurrence. Yet it feels like all my work has been validated.
– Marguerite Linden du Bois
The song is Synchronicity ～第二章 光と影の楽園～ Producer: ひとしずくP. Vocals and French translation by Poucet, available on YouTube. Original Vocals: Len Kagamine; Rin Kagamine; feat. Miku Hatsune
Synchro is the French name for the Ability Synchronise. Needless to say, Gallade don't have it, but here Synchronise refers to the bond between the twins. Droite is French for 'right', hence her segments are aligned on the right. Gauche is 'left', so his are on the left. Hope this helped. But, since there's difficulty formatting, the entire song is written centred, italics for Droite, bold italics for Gauche.
Critiquez, s'il vous plaît!