Savoir-faire – To Know and To Do

XXIX: Montrer – To Show

Day 67: This is a bad idea, this is a bad idea, this is a- yes, Darkrai, repetition would possibly drive in that fact! Is this one of those undesirable influences that young Trainers supposedly fall prey to, which corrupts their moral sense and leads them astray from accepted League policy? Or is it merely the wild influence of the young, to lead them to search for edifying adventure?

...

(Delete paragraph)

The burn of Malva's Chandelure on my hand stung under the bandages. Burning the traitor's face had never felt so good, and were it anyone else who had suggested the anti-psychotics, I would never have done it. She deserved everything she got.

Even from a disgraced Champion, telling all and sundry that one of the Kalos Elite Four was a Team Flare member was akin to a public death sentence. Malva would never tell, and Diantha would never allow her to do so, even if Daisy Linden disappeared as a result.

And she shall.

The Basculin in the river were delicious, field-dressed and salted with whatever there was in the few supplies I brought out with me. Daisy Linden went camping without warning in Brun Way, entered the Lost Hotel... and she never came out.

So I intended.

In this world, there are settlements that, in and of itself, left no other intrinsic value to humanity, but Pokémon congregated around as some form of hybrid habitat. Kanto's Pokémon Mansion; the Old Château somewhere in Sinnoh; the Strange House at the base of Reversal Mountain in Unova; the list went on. The Lost Hotel had barely survived being torn down due to the active presence of Litwick within. Humans tended to get leery about cohabiting with the former habitat of Ghosts, especially those who fed upon life force. The coming procession of Litwick that hovered in the Lost Hotel was chief amongst the reasons why building in the heart of trickster ground was a bad idea. While Lampent were not unknown in the wild, wild Lampent tended to stand out due to their heightened consumption needs and thus proximity to inhabited areas, which tended to encourage capture. Those Lampent would never have known that a bottomless well of energy had walked into their territory.

I had Pokéballs on me; yet, capture was not on my agenda. Bereft of companion, alone and surrounded, I watched the indigo flame of the Candle Pokémon flare with my life force, my eyelids growing heavy with every passing moment.

Was I right?

I came here with an idea; the idea that, given enough effort, even an immortal like AZ would die. Even despite eternal life, the human body was mortal; it would age, weaken, break like any other. If I broke this body long enough... I could not have known, for I did not die. The pain of the burns on my hands proved that.

On hindsight, the fact that I could feel pain through burns were signs of my nerves regenerating. Yet at the time, I was more concerned with the fact that, even in death, it could not be peaceful. I was left on my back, bleeding on the palms of my hands and onto a dusty carmine carpet that was the hotel's legacy.

This procession of Litwick left, leaving only a tiny runt, possibly the runt of a whole litter. She – the Litwick had very prominent eyelashes – was tiny, her indigo flame guttering with any passing breeze that ghosted over the skin of my cheeks. The Litwick, glowing, floated ever closer, her flame barely keeping growing in size. She kept sucking feebly, with a sort of sickened determination I had seen in those Pokémon afflicted with Destiny Bond Syndrome. The most unsettling fact of Pokémon medicine, was how a dying Pokémon looked when Yveltal's sleep haunts them and they clung to the blessing of Xerneas all the more; ugly and cruel and real for all the tragedy it is.

The oncology department of the Université Illumis-Sud Neuvartault had a Pichu cancer patient that was its poster child. I had seen it many times on campus, as the medical programme's youngest student. Now, comparing a Litwick trying to kill me in order to live with an electric rodent suffering from growths all over its body, I had no idea which was more determined to live.

The irony of it all.

Consciousness drifted in and out as a boat that came and went through the Styx. A Murkrow came in now and then, bringing food and water it forced down my throat despite lacking anything training to identify foods consumable by humans. Why, or how, I did not know, but I was thankful enough to appoint him as the boss after I tracked down a Dusk Stone. A Trubbish helped him; moments like this led me to doubt myself sometimes. A Klefki tried to steal my keys; I bent its own out of shape until it relented and escaped. Rotom cracked through the wires, sending the already dim lights flickering through the hallways, confusing dawn and dusk. I must have been revived innumerable times between death and life, the latter clinging like some microbe or disease while the former would not hold.

Time passed oddly, adrift in eternity and oblivion within lucidity. The Litwick grew strong, stronger than I thought possible; she was growing in size, gorging herself until now, she resembled something like the trained Litwick that Trainers brought in sometimes.

My hands healed, in time. However long a time had passed before its waxy body had a glassy sheen, I could not tell; barely a day had passed before she evolved spontaneously, wax to steel and glass.

The laugh escaped from my lips, though the newly evolved Lampent could not escape my grasp.

"Haa..." I breathed as I heard the howl of a Lucario growing louder, Altair coming in with a fluent Kalosian curse that could only be Augustine. "A Lampent..."

I clung onto her, each and every moment waiting for that moment to pass, for my soul to be stolen from my body. I must have died once more in her fiery embrace, waiting for a death that never came.

Perhaps this was what Malva had felt when I used her own companion to burn her traitorous face. It almost made me pity her. I made up for it later when I stole Malva's properties from right under her nose, subsuming her contacts to create Marguerite Linden du Bois.

I breathed in and out, willing the pain to disappear, for the Lost Hotel to break, for the Lampent that would become Crystal the Chandelure to disappear. I then opened my eyes.

For this is not the future, or the yet to come... this is my past.

"Darkrai...!"

I fell; I hit a thick shag carpet. Above-head, Darkrai loomed. A samovar floated beside me, filigree silver on black.

I frowned at it, and then at Darkrai. He shrugged. "I did not forget everything about the land I came from. The humans of the region you call Sinnoh, they used this device to dispense tea."

"Why are my ears perceiving you?"

"Because this is your dream. I am a guest."

"Is this the effect of Dream Eater or Nightmare?"

"Dream Eater." He studied me. "Most humans would be telling me to get out."

"People will fear what they do not understand," I took the samovar and set it upright, opening the lid. "If you are here in my dream, I assume that you have a good reason. I would also anticipate that you do not abuse the privilege, and if you do, I shall be disappointed in you."

"You were having a nightmare. Haunter decided to dive in. I just barely stopped him."

From the shadows, came the wide, guilty eyes of Haunter, set with a false grin.

"Duly noted," I checked the samovar. "Do you know what is this, Darkrai?"

"A boiling vessel, I believe. A vessel that everyone likes."

"Not really," I pondered. "The samovar is more common in west Sinnoh, I believe. It's a part of Sinnoh tea culture, really. Erm, you'd fill the burner inside with smouldering material, wood chips or pine cones, things like that, then you add hot water around the internal pipe that leads out as a tiny chimney. It's a self-boiling water heater with a dispenser, basically. Sinnoh, and especially Snowpoint tea culture, revolves around very concentrated black tea, called zavarka. So, it's done like this..."

I would like to think that weirder things happened in my life rather than an impromptu dream tea-party conducted in the Sinnoh manner – a communal setting over a protracted time period – had occurred in my life. Unfortunately, no. It was extremely fun, though, that with some direction from the nightmare expert, nightmares soon became enjoyable dreams, ghosts transmuting into jam jars and honey or sugar. The funniest must have been Darkrai's reaction; even I laughed with Haunter as the Pitch-Black Pokémon fretted over the choice of honey or jam with milky black tea.

I awoke in the midst of displaying a Johto-style tea ceremony, frowning at Crystal's smirk and the smell of green tea hanging in the air. Idly, Darkrai floated beside me.

"I would appreciate if you would give some notice before dropping into my dreams," I replied. "Having to plan an entire tea menu on the fly is tiring."

A pause, before Darkrai faced me. Marguerite... you relish the challenge.

I gave him the evil eye and shoved him on top of Haunter, such that they made a lovely bodily pile for Phantump, Crystal and Jelly to mock. Aegis even clapped. So, it was to such a scene that Altair returned from his early morning meditation.

My companion Lucario beheld the Pokémon pileup with something akin to resignation. Did I miss something?

"No," I laughed. "You didn't."

The weather seems clement.

My smile faded somewhat at that reminder. "Thank you, Altair. It looks like we should prepare."

Morning of the cruise dawned with two victories and two Plant Badges issued to us.

"Well, that Fletchinder looks mighty capable with her Ember and Aerial Ace, can't wait to see her with a Flamethrower," Ramos joked.

I smiled weakly; Fletchinder had pretty much mowed down his team with Aerial Aces left and right. I hadn't had to field Heracross at all. "Thanks, Leader Ramos."

"You're just as good as that girly," Ramos smiled, turning to Serena, who had also won just as quickly. "I now present to the two of you, your Plant Badges."

We accepted the badges with respect, but for me it was also filled with foreboding. It meant that the cruise, and Léa's rescue, was about to take place.

"Monsieur Duval has completed the Coumarine Gym, and Shauna is not due to battle the Gym again," Dr du Bois had assessed. "Donar, Serena and you shall require experience. Don't come back until you've gotten the Plant Badge. Also, pack your bags before you leave to the Gym. We'll be boarding the SS Azur directly after you've visited the Pokémon Centre following your Gym battle."

So I had gone to the Coumarine Gym, challenged, battled with Fletchinder, and won. The Plant Badge hung in my badge case, heavy with responsibility and the four badges that marked my independence. The only question was... was it enough?

Coumarine City was nice for a seaside city, and there wasn't a lot to say about it. Dr du Bois would have given it a lot more description. Being the teenager I am, Coumarine to me was summarised as: great food, nice view, and a great marketplace.

Plus, a cruise ship.

The SS Azur was bloody huge. It looked sleek and modern, without any great chimneys but still looked a behemoth of a ship. Lifeboats and those lifebuoys studded every railing on the deck, and on the ship's hull was painted in flouring text, its name and a few numbers. Guards surrounded the walkway.

Beside me, Shauna frowned at the crowd being managed by a pair of guards. "How are we supposed to get there?"

"...I think Dr du Bois meant for you to distract them," I commented as I saw a retinue headed by Morelle walking up. The slimy bastard was smiling and making small chatter.

"What should I do?" Shauna hissed to me. "Serena's better at these things than I am."

I looked at her. "Actually... Dr du Bois said that he was buying a Krookodile."

Blink. Blink.

"We froze his garden, watched his house..." I waved my hand. "But... Léa might be Krook-food-"

Shauna's back snapped straight. She immediately charged, striding with her pigtails waving in her wake, and I headed for the gang-plank. The guards was distracted with the echo of a slap and shouting started in Kalosian, loud and personal as I climbed up, safely in the background.

I didn't know what 'fils de salope' meant, but Shauna using it couldn't be good.

Dr du Bois was on the deck, as she stated. She was by the big bow thing, the place where you stand right at the ship's head, and leaning back on a reclining deck-chair. Her buttoned shirt and tan shorts ended with sock-clad feet, and she looked up at me with curious eyes. "Good afternoon."

I paused. Then I realised that the plan was already in motion. "Hi. I'm Donar Oak."

Dr du Bois arranged her hands demurely in her lap as she sat up. She was... well, elegant. Her face was generic and rather plain, plainly pretty but not outstanding except by the sheer force of her personality. Seeing her act in another way was like seeing a stranger for the first time. "Marguerite Linden du Bois. Bonjour, Monsieur Oak. You are with le professeur Sycamore, yes?"

"Erm... Donar, please." I stuttered. "You're... you know Professor Sycamore?"

"Indeed. I am an associate professor of sociology at the École Normale Supérieure d'Illumis . He does talk about his students... occasionally."

I snorted involuntarily. "That sounds like him."

A vacant expression of amusement came over her face; how did she manage to make herself familiar and alien at the same time? "Interesting. Your friend distracted the crowd with her accost of Achillée Morelle, buying you a distraction to sneak aboard. I wonder what would happen if I were to summon a crew."

I raised my hands in surrender. "Sheesh. No need to be hostile. I'll just be on my way."

"You shouldn't be," Dr du Bois said, rising up. "Well, I'd better go now. I don't want to interrupt your tête-à-tête with Madame Shirona."

I gaped at her as she left in a waft of flowers, trying to decipher her meaning. I comprehended as around the corner, on the other corridor beside the one Dr du Bois departed through was Cynthia, Champion of the Sinnoh region.

Grey eyes narrowed on me gaping. "Excuse me?"

"I- I'm so sorry," I babbled. "It's just, well, you look a bit like... someone I know, erm, well, I'll just be on my way, sorry- oh, come on!"

I had fumbled, tripping on air and spilling my Holo Caster and PokéDex onto the deck floor. Cynthia helped me up, the two of us scrambling for the fallen electronics.

A glaze came over her eyes as she held up my PokéDex. "Wow, this brings back some memories."

"Erm, my PokéDex..." I echoed lamely.

"Oh! Of course." She handed it to me. "Pardon me, but what's your name?"

"I'm Donar, Donar Oak," I babbled. Sure, I had talked to Daisy Linden, but Daisy was... well, she had a link to Dr du Bois. She was Kalosian, around my age. She was more or less familiar. Cynthia was like, world-famous. "Not related to Professor Oak, really. Though my family's from Kanto. We moved to Kalos before I started my journey."

"Oh!" Cynthia exclaimed. "I'll be sure to remember that name! My name is Cynthia. I'm a Trainer just like you."

"Yeah," I nodded furiously. "Erm, I was at the Parfum Conference, I saw you. Well, Professor Sycamore sent me there with his colleague, something about... politics. I wasn't really interested. I'm not a stalker, really."

"Well, that's something we have in common, then," Cynthia airily said. "I've been studying Pokémon mythology lately, just out of curiosity. At Parfum Palace, for example, there are statues of two powerful Pokémon. Have you seen it already? According to myth, they were extremely powerful Pokémon. Who knows? You may encounter something like it while you're travelling with your PokéDex."

"Right," I agreed. "Erm... Zekrom and Reshiram, right? Truth and ideals? The guide at Parfum Palace was going on about its three hundred years of history and the depiction of Reshiram and Zekrom."

Cynthia nodded. "The history of Kalos is very... interesting. Very bloody and tragic, of course, but also very entertaining."

She paused. "I'm sorry, it's... rather new and interesting and the upcoming event about a Zapdos sea burial being conducted at the Sea Spirit's Den on the itinerary kept me occupied."

"Of course," I said despite my ignorance and surprise. "There was a Zapdos at Shalour City. What are the chances that...?"

I trailed off when the Sinnoh Champion considered me. "You saw Zapdos? Zapdos is a legendary Pokémon."

"I have it on good authority that there is, in fact, more than one Zapdos..." I trailed off at her sharpening stare, "...but what are the odds that they are the same?"

"More likely than a person seeing two different Zapdos in their lifetime. A Zapdos died, and they are giving it a sea burial...?"

Cynthia's lips parted. Her eyes were overcome in a sort of manic gleam. I got the sudden feeling that, if I introduced the Sinnoh Champion to Dr du Bois, they would take over the world. That thought kept me way occupied until the sun set. "How... strange. As if they have something to hide... when I came to the Riviera, I had no expectations aside from politics and history, hardly even Pokémon mythology. But this... this is a mystery."

The Riviera was the line flowing down from Coumarine to Ambrette; the coastal line of Kalos. It encompassed the entirety of the Muraille Coast, and the line was also referred to as the Côte d'Azur. The SS Azur would be taking a circular path through the Azure Bay, before turning back to go up the Vin River to end its cruise at Lumiose City. Aboard it, Achillée Morelle had planned a minor sudden-death Pokémon battle tournament, music, dance, and a history exhibition centred around the legend of heroes, headed nicely by Wikstrom's donation to the Lumiose Museum. Now, Wikstrom led me towards the centrepiece.

"The box of Gilles de Rais was clearly meant to store documents, being lined with resin in the Eastern tradition," Wikstrom stated. "It tallies with the near-certain view that Kalos was invaded by invaders from possibly as far as the Sevii Islands, perhaps even from the Indigo continental shelf too. So the Museum curator tells me."

"But, you said that it has not been tested," I pointed out.

"See for yourself," he indicated the box laid on the podium. It was made of dark wood, inlaid with a round cabochon that gleamed dimly, untouched by centuries of dust. It had been cleaned, certainly, yet I could not smell lemon or vinegar or chemicals.

"Has it been authenticated?" I demanded.

"No..."

"Why?"

"My ancestor laid a curse upon this box," Wikstrom confessed. "'Tis truly powerful, to stop anyone from even touching or opening the box."

I peered closer. "Gilles de Rais, the dark blade of Jeanne. What a trap."

"Trap?"

"Consider the possibility of an incredibly long-lived Pokémon." I paused, considering the cabochon. "So you intend to display a cursed box from Gilles de Rais as part of 'secret documents'. I'm sure your insurance company was very happy that the box came with its own in-built security, Wikstrom."

"Then what do you think it is?" Wikstrom asked.

"I would gamble that this stone is the key," I pointed. "Oblong, carvings, and old. Possibly a Dark-type Pokémon. Balance of probabilities. What kind of Pokémon is old, very long-lived, bored enough to guard something like this box, and small enough to fit in a stone?"

"A Ghost-type?" Wikstrom exclaimed. "That is-"

"Not going to help," I sighed, lifting the box carefully. "These words on the pattern could give us a clue."

"Words?"

"Yes," I looked to Wikstrom. "The Unown alphabet travelled to Kalos via the Deçolorois naval invasion in the XIII century, it could be a transformed derivative of that original alphabet, not even accounting for regional accents or syntax change."

"Hey, you!" A man in a lab coat bustled up to us. "You need to put down the exhibit, miss!"

"My apologies, Dr Ancolie," Wikstrom persuaded. "Dr du Bois is merely an acquaintance of mine I have requested take a look-"

"Has the standards of the history department fallen so far that a restoration expert that reading simple Unown has them completely lost?" I interrupted him. "You, which professor do you work under?"

"P- Professor Marron-" Ancolie stuttered. "I work at the Lumiose Museum!"

"No one of that name works in the history department, much less the Museum." I pointed out. "The Lumiose Museum is attached to the École Normale Supérieure d'Illumis, I would know you, and you would know to fear Associate Professor Linden du Bois. So, either you're in the wrong department, or you fail as a historian... or you're not a restorer at all."

A beat of silence, before the man off like a bat out of hell. Before Wikstrom could tackle the intruder, the intruder backed up, tripping over his shoes in fright before he was lifted bodily by an unseen force and flung back to hit face-first before my bowed shoes.

"Nice job, Metagross" the grey-haired man in a suit beside the giant steel Pokémon complimented.

"Metagross?" I commented. "A pseudo-legendary Pokémon, native to the Hoenn region, and the final form of the Beldum line, exclusively under the ownership of the Stone family located in Rustboro City. The Rustboro City authorities once tried to have the family's Beldum colony declared as city property, and thus subject to their control."

"Well, that's a rather cynical and accurate way of summing up my identity," the grey-haired man bowed. "My name is Steven Stone. I'm here representing the Devon Corporation. We're displaying our own historical artefacts."

"Bonjour, Monsieur Stone. I am Marguerite Linden du Bois, associate professor of sociology at the École Normale Supérieure d'Illumis. I'm attached to the Sycamore Research Laboratory at present to do some fieldwork," I summarised my name and purpose. "Wikstrom was kind enough to invite my students and myself upon this cruise to view the treasures of his family being displayed, amongst others. I trust that this is enjoyable."

Stone laughed. "Oh, yes. I'm especially looking forward to the legendary crown of Kalos being displayed, even in such a formal setting. Is it true that all known types of evolutionary stones were embedded upon it by the Roi-Soleil?"

"Yes," I replied, attempting not to intimidate the younger Stone or give him any impression that I was anything other than an academic. "I had students do a group presentation on you once during a course on historical continuity with regards to class differences."

"I am... flattered?"

"You should be. They were very glowing on your Pokémon Navigator and how its introduction into professional Pokémon Training graduated battles into a match of strategy and tactics." I forbore to comment on the political science students who were rather more scathing of him.

Stone pondered for a moment. "So what were Pokémon battles before the PokéNav, if you would pardon my asking?"

"I cannot say for everyone, although the prevailing academic assumption was as a blood sport," I demurred.

"Well, it would be a somewhat rudimentary assumption to factor in," Stone agreed. "Not one that everyone agrees with, but an accurate enough idea."

"Not everyone in academia can be a competitive Trainer at the same time," I admitted. "I aim to change that with my research."

"Hence your occupation with a research laboratory specialising in Mega Evolution," Stone concluded.

Oh, the man was good. Admiration rose in me where Wallace had invited dismissal. "Due to its affiliation with the École Normale Supérieure , my work and that of Mega Evolution are somewhat tied."

"I remember," Stone commented in a tone of flatness. "You reviewed Dr Yew's article of Teams Magma and Aqua being a greater reflection of the great economic inequality shared between the desert-dwelling and sea-dwelling population as a result of Devon Corporation. 'Economic nationalism', was it? It made the Hoenn Swellow."

I blinked. I hadn't expected him to have read Yew's work; I hadn't even heard that the article I edited and reviewed made the Hoenn region's premier centre newspaper. It was... not exactly politically correct in Hoenn. Dr Yew herself had received quite the backlash that had nearly endangered her position at the Rustboro University of Hoenn. "Yes, I did. Dr Yew is not very popular in Hoenn, as she led me to understand."

"You supported her conjecture that Devon Corporation cripples rather than strengthens Hoenn's economic base," Stone now looked rather more upset, though it was hidden very artfully. "The resulting fallout scared off any chance of a merger with Silph Corporation."

"An inconvenient truth," I allowed. "Yet one that must be said, monsieur. I apologise if our peer-reviewed papers spoke an observation that was damaging to your company. However, I cannot apologise for making them. If I recall, Devon Corporation turned to Unova for negotiation regarding the lifting of cotton tariffs afterwards, and cotton became more widespread."

Stone frowned. "Yes. We're now getting our Cottonee cotton supplies in from Unova and preparing to merge our supply chain. Unova supplies most of the world's Cottonee cotton, where else could we go?"

"I would think that Wurmple silk would be adequate material to be used," I observed.

"Too expensive. It's not happening," Stone admitted. "Enough of my family's business, though. What brings you here, Doctor?"

"I imagine that I should be the one asking the question, monsieur," I smilingly bit back.

"Not a lot of sociologists visit exclusive historical exhibits, I imagine," Stone commented, his voice deceptively light.

"Sociology and anthropology have the same historical roots, tracing back towards the study of history," I pointed out. "Samuel Oak tends to take a scientific view towards anthro-Pokémon relations, using hard ecologically based data from the natural sciences to justify a common link between humans and Pokémon. I use the social sciences to prove my studies of Pokémon Trainers, and by extension Pokémon, in society."

"I'm sure you take your work very seriously," Steven Stone replied with a small smile playing around his lips. It was a small, ineffectual effort. Sociology is not a real science, it screamed. My field of current choice was one of the misunderstood and underestimated amongst the social sciences; people do have a great tendency to neglect that which questions the powers that be.

"I do," I loftily replied. "I advised Dr Yew to change her argument that Devon Corporation did indeed play a part, however minor, into the political geography of the Hoenn region with respect to economic imbalances, but Dr Yew felt that it was criticising too harshly upon Devon Corporation. A shame; perhaps had she done so, the fallout would have been worth it."

Steven Stone opened his mouth, but was temporarily distracted as a familiar besuited man sidled up to us. "Mr Stone," Achillée Morelle commented. "I see you've met the redoubtable Dr du Bois."

"Mr Morelle," Stone acknowledged. It was a touch cold, perhaps. "Thank you very much for lending us your ship for both events."

"It was a pleasure," Morelle's eyes were half-lidded. "It does us good to pay our respects to the lost god of lightning."

" Excusez-moi? " I asked.

"A Zapdos fell during the Shalour landslide," Stone explained with a touch of patronisation. "The Ranger Union have concluded its tests, and to prevent illicit use of its bones or to commit offence to the reported Moltres and Articuno, they're sending it out to the Sea Spirit's Den. Mr Morelle offered to make it a Viking funeral."

"How interesting," I commented faintly. "Complete with flames midway at sea?"

"Yes, of course." Morelle was standing by the side, smirking despite himself and hands in his pockets. The line of good Kalosian tailoring was ruined by his hands inching towards his pockets. He'd just got himself a legally sanctioned way to get rid of evidence at sea with the aegis of the Ranger Union; he would be smug. The bones of a Zapdos, a legendary Pokémon, due for cremation out in the open sea, and presumably Léa Morelle with it? It was a clever plan by half. Very clever.

I activated my Holo Caster. After a moment of pondering, I decided on the appropriate message.

Fires on the high seas tend to erase evidence very easily, with the body of a thunder god.

Steven Stone is a man to be admired, partly for his sangfroid in the face, partly for his role in our little drama, and mainly because he accepted over a million Poké in insurance and damages during the subsequent rescue of Léa Morelle. I believe that Champion Cynthia and he could have a meaningful relationship. I shall be watching Steven Stone's life very closely; the man could out-muscle Silph Co. one day.

– Marguerite Linden du Bois

I don't know about Cynthia, but I imagines that she dons a nice personality each time she talks to a new Pokémon Trainer. It's like she's partly tsudere sometimes.

Here, though, I tried to make it like Donar is not low-educated, since he's been hanging out with a loquacious professor for months.

Critiquez, s'il vous plaît!