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A flock of Pidgey alighted from a nearby tree, spiraling into the air after being disturbed by the lumbering approach of a Metagross. Its metallic footfalls, though muted by the earthen floor, were enough to turn the heads of those more closely attuned to the sounds of the Cypress Forest, and many of the wild pokemon shied away from the path.

The Metagross, however, was no threat. At the moment, Pitre was little more than transportation for the girl perched on the flat surface of its body. She dressed the part of the trainer rather than that of the Rocket, a teal blouse and dark skirt comprising her outfit and a ribbon fluttering from her bound hair.

Aila enjoyed the forest scenery, noting the various trees and flowers. Her goal for the time being was Lake Elemi; she had a particular want to see how the night sky reflected in its calm waters. The Cypress Forest proper, though, was nothing less of a marvel - she only wished that Pitre's steps weren't so intrusively heavy...

She caught sight of what appeared to be a Meganium rolling to its feet a short ways into the distance, turning her head slightly at its increasingly urgent exclamation. Pitre regarded the fleshy thing with a mild interest as well. It looked like it was a horribly inconvenient shape and consistency for, say, throwing itself through windows or other equally precarious stunts. But then Pitre watched too many action flicks, so its standards were quite skewed.

And then the creature - now quite obviously a Meganium, though its coloration was slightly different - was approaching her. She looked down from her perch, slightly elevated as she was by the Metagross's own height, and inclined her head slightly. She offered a greeting hand for the grass-type to inspect at its leisure, passingly wondering if the thing had a trainer.

"Ta," Pitre grunted dismissively at the plant thing in its face. It reminded the Metagross somewhat of a game it had once played. Not a very good game, retrospectively.

A faint smile pulled at her lips as the Meganium moved its head into her palm. As affectionate and charismatic as it was, she couldn't imagine the thing being wild. "Where's your trainer?" she asked, her voice quiet. The grass-type reminded her of her own Fleur, and her expression warmed accordingly.

At Aila's encouragement, Pitre followed behind the departing Meganium, slowing to a halt as the grass-type did. She gazed up into the branches and found what she assumed was the trainer she had asked about, cradled in the crook of the branches. He wasn't there for much longer, though, as a small Earthquake rocked him loose and sent the poor man plummeting into the bushes below. Aila watched the display with an expression of mild surprise. Well, that was one way to make an entrance. The surprise on her features became much more obvious when he began to speak words that were wholly alien. It had been ages since she had last been faced with such completely unfamiliar language. She found soon enough that she could suddenly understand his words, though, and so she pushed the thoughts from her mind.

"Down," she murmured, and the Metagross responded in kind, lighting on the earth to decrease the distance Aila needed to close to move her feet from the air to the ground. "Need a hand?" she offered, extending said hand with something of an amused smile.

Though her injuries hadn't been irritated in some time, it was probably a good thing that Inigo didn't rely too heavily on her assistance. She was, after all, still on medical leave, and unfit to work generally meant unfit to traipse about in a forest. Pitre made traveling easy, though, and she had thus far been able to get by without any significant strain.

She acknowledged the Meganium when it was properly introduced - Leilani, it was a pretty name - and maintained the slight amusement on her features in response to his bravado. "Well, a pleasure to meet you, Inigo," she said. Matching him, she introduced herself with the posturing of a full curtsy, "My name is Aila Christelle de Valois," Arceus, what was she doing giving her full name to a stranger? Perhaps she was a little to quick to fill a role, "but Aila is enough, of course." She gestured towards the Metagross. "This is Pitre. He's not as personable as Leilani, I'm afraid."

"Meta." The forest wasn't exactly a WiFi hotspot, and Pitre was quite grumpy as a result.

Una nomb-- What was that? At least one of the words sounded vaguely familiar, nomb-whatsit resembling her nom - name. She recoiled instinctively at Leilani's approach, protecting her still tender shoulder and upper arm. She stopped herself, though, worrying that too full a withdrawal would offend the Meganium. "Yes," she said, nodding approvingly. "French. Speaking of that, actually, that language you've been using, what exactly..." A faint redness colored her face. It seemed uncouth that he should be able to identify the etymology based only on the sound of the name when she couldn't do as much even though he had spoken so much more of it.

"I know a certain Venusaur that behaves quite similarly," she supplied, reaching a calming hand to stroke the excited grass-type's head. "The friendly type is quite preferable to the mischievous type or the antisocial type, I must say." It was a wonder half her team cooperated with her at all.

Spanish, was it? She'd heard of it, of course, but she couldn't recall ever having heard the spoken language before, especially not in the same breath as the language's name. "Spanish... I see. I've never heard anyone speak it before." It had an interesting sound, as well. She toyed with the idea of adding it to her studies; there was always the chance that it might prove useful to disguised infiltration. "Is it very difficult? The last time I learned a language, I was still very young and was able to pick it up easily." The prospect of learning a whole language had always struck as quite the harrowing task. She was still amazed, from time to time, that she was able to speak English in its entirety. She had been speaking it for most of her life, though, so there was little place for any real amazement.

She tucked her chin down, raising her gaze to keep eye contact, as embarrassing an admission as it was, "I didn't. I learned from my mother and from studying on my own." As a result, she was knowledgeable in a number of specialized areas and knew enough of the basics to get by, but the feeling that she had missed out on something essential persisted, especially since it seemed Spanish was a thing she definitely should have recognized.

"That's how old I was when I learned English too," she said with something of a nostalgic smile. "Mother refused to learn, though, so we always spoke in French." There was a long period after her mother's death where she had stopped practicing French conversationally, but the instinct of the language remained. As he spoke of his experience with Spanish, she came upon a resolve to learn it for herself. Classes were essentially out of the question, but she was confident in her study skills. "I think I'll try and pick it up," she said, nodding. If it was a thing that she should have learned from school, that was all the more reason to carry through on that thought.