Xaviers!

It had been one week since the fake Jacques was caught, and the real Jacques had been set to work to try to repair Katarina.

A week of sculpting and carving. A week of making wax copies, clay molds, firing and re-firing, every line, every crease, every tooth and dimple carefully worked and reworked over and over and over again. Had Jacques slept? Had he eaten? He certainly hadn't left the art room. He had even drawn his pistol on a few poor students who had wandered in, wondering why things were off limits. You get a bit paranoid in times of war, after all!

Leo had not found Katarina's image on file in the danger room. She was not on the X-Teams and had no reason to go down there, and Nika would surely have not allowed the image of the princess to be recorded while her presence at the school was supposed to be a secret to begin with! He had to instead settle for helping Jacques, and distracting him from his paranoia by getting him to explain all the various steps and precision that went involved. That was just as exciting as it may sound, mind you, but hey, it was something.

But after a week's worth of work, they were at least nearing completion, and would soon be able to start work on Katarina herself.

For her part, the Princess had spent the week in a coma-like sleep. She had asked for nothing -- for the void, for darkness -- but Sam had meddled with that just ever-so-slightly. And so she occasionally tossed and turned, as Sam's triumphant image played itself out over and over again in her mind, twisting and iterating on itself as Katarina the week away.

"I bet you're going to sleep like that when this is over," Leo commented between tasks. He had beastman vitality and actually got sleep and even he was tired, so Jacques had to be suffering. Leo admired the man's mad devotion.

"Again, my sleep is less important than this," Jacques grumbled.

"Well, I'm not gonna rehash that discussion. You know your own limits," he said, pressing no further.

Just don't fall asleep in the forge.

"I shall sleep when she wakes; have no fear."

"That's all I ask. So... what's next?"

"Now is the time for your burliness and hopeful fire-proofness to pay dividends, as we must melt down the gold, and prepare it for integration. We must also...prepare the princess," he said, hesitating on those last words.

He raised a brow. "Prepare the princess?"

"Erm, yes," Jacques said, awkwardly. "When I first arrived, with the facial gouge, I was going to simply cast the new material directly onto her cheekbone. A patch, as it were. But with the extent of the damage...

We must, erm, clean up some of the soot and other debris caused by the assassin. When we, ahem, that is to say, when the princess is placed into the mold, we do not want any...impurities to potentially be mixed in with the pure gold we will be adding. Because when we, err..." Jacques stammered. He had been leaving this step out of his explanations the entire time.

"We... have to take off her clothes, don't we?" he asked, guessing why Jacques was so flustered.

"Well, yes, which is awkward and embarrassing and generally not allowed," Jacques said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. "But I am more concerned with the fact that we will have to, well, melt most of her from the shoulders up. It is very much a point of no return. I do wonder if, in the end, that was the point of the attempt on her life -- to damage her enough that it ends up attempting to fix her...finishes the job."

"Wait wait wait, you have to melt her head?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, if we did not, she would basically have a mask of her head over her head, no? I would shudder to imagine what that would be like when she attempted to turn back to flesh and blood. No, we must integrate the new material into the princess."

"Which could kill her? But I guess turning to flesh as she is now would definitely do that."

"She would essentially be giving herself a shattered skull; fragments of bone inside her brain, I am certain. Her throat and nose closed off, she would be unable to breathe, and she would quickly asphyxiate without immediate medical attention. I highly doubt she would ever be able to see or hear again," Jacques agreed. "As is, she could never return to flesh and blood.

But we have no idea what the effects of..." Jacques said, barely able to even bring himself to say the words. "I mean, she clearly does not need normal things to survive like this. She is bulletproof. She survives massive blows to the head -- she survived partially melting. She does not need to eat or breathe. She enters a form of homeostasis, because otherwise, lying here for seven days would not be good for the human body. Perhaps it would be safer to just attempt to make do with what she has -- use the punch to split her lips, add new holes to the ears; give her as much function as we could.

But Symkaria needs her future, and the symbolic effect of the princess being permanently disfigured..." Jacques sighed. "This is more than I signed up for when I came to help her out."

"And helpin' do something that might kill her wasn't what I had in mind when I volunteered to assist you, but that's where we are. Knowin' what I know about her, which admittedly isn't a whole lot, I know she'd agree with you. Hell, in her shoes I imagine would too."

"You still can back out, you know. Technically, we will be committing a capitol offense by damaging the Princess. I am presuming she will pardon us upon her awakening."

That gave him pause.

"Do I have time to think about it?"

"Absolutely. I shall continue preparing while you consider."

"Thanks. I'll try not to hold you up."

Jacques nodded as Leo left, and sighed, looking out at Katarina, lolling her head slightly and moaning in her sleep.

"Oh, my Princess. I hope we shall not fail you."

There was a soft knock on the door jam several minutes after Leo had left. From her positioning, it was suggested that Jez had been standing there for some time but hadn't said anything.

"Pardon me, Mr. Ciseleur?" The accent was not Symkarian, but the language was. "May I enter?"

"<Symkarian?"> Jacques said, blinking. <"Yes, of course, come in,"> he said, sliding is hand down towards his concealed pistol.

Jez stepped in through the doorway and paused about half way into the room. She didn't look particularly threatening, though she could have hidden something under that oversized hoodie. The leggings however not so much.

<"I think it would be best for me to introduce me."> Ah, it was definitely a second-language. <"I am Jezabelle Sherlock. You have probably been told about me... and about how this is all my fault.">

<"...Your fault?"> Jacques said, relaxing as Jez introduced herself. <"I have indeed heard that you were the Princess' chief...confidant here at school, but nothing that would put you at blame for...for this."

<"Ah, so you don't spare much time for gossip then. Most refer to me as the harlot or the concubine... some do not even bother to wait until my back is turned. It was this relationship that cause Ms. Novak to do what she did, and... you know the rest.">

"Lady Sherlock," Jacques said, switching to English, and walking over to her. "What has been done has been done. I do not know what Ms. Novak did, other than rumors and whispers. But whatever it was, it was her choice, and not yours. And there are people out there who will look for any sign of weakness and exploit it. That is not your fault, I am certain of it.

And I trust my Princess' judgment of character implicitly. She would not bring you into her inner circle if you were not a person worthy of being there, I am certain."

Jez gave Jacques a sad little smile. "Those are... very kind word. Thank you." She looked toward where Katarina was laying, her body tensing up slightly.

"Can I... can I see her?"

"Naturally. Please," Jacques said, gesturing for Jez to follow him.

Katarina was not in good shape. The gold had long since cooled, but you could see the where it had flown down; her hair had melted down over much of her eyes, ears, and nose, and just the general head shape was wrong. Now that it had cooled, scorchmarks and soot were plainly visible, signs of the damage and heat she had been put under.

She occasionally rocked a little in her telepathy-induced slumber, muffled sounds occasionally being heard through the gold.

Jez had tried to steel herself, but ever since her rescue Katarina had never permitted Jez to see the extent of damage to her face. In truth, she had never seen her injured, it had always been covered with that "gift" from Dr. Doom. So when she saw the state that Katarina was in she... did not react well. It was a good thing that the princess was unconscious, because the speed at which broke into tears might've been very distressing to her.

"Oh my God, I had no idea..."

"The damage is extensive, yes," Jacques said, after letting Jez react for a moment. "The attack on her was very effective; if the telepath had not found something amiss when she did, we may have lost her."

"But she still lives. And we shall do our utmost to keep it that way, Ano?"

Jez choked back a sob. "What could I possibly do to help? I'm useless to her right now."

"I am sure the princess would appreciate it if you were here as we do the final cast. I don't know how much she can sense, in her dream state, but a...friend in times of need may be quite useful.

You could also help us, erm, tidy her up some. We want the casting to be as clean and pure as possible; I don't honestly know the effects of soot and foreign particles when it comes to living gold, mind you, but I believe this may not, in fact, be the time to experiment."

Jez sniffled and nodded, moving a bit closer to Katarina and pulling up a chair so that she could sit beside the princess and hold her golden hand.

The idea of picking... stuff out of what had been Katarina's face was in of itself upsetting, like she was being asked to perform surgery on her. But for the princess, her girlfriend, she'd do anything.

"Y-yes, of course. I'd be honoured to." She said a little weakly.

Asleep as she was, Katarina's hand tightened around Jez's as she held it; she was aware, on some level, of her girlfriend being there, as she continued making muffled noises from inside her melted golden shell.

"I shall prepare the rest of the gold," Jacques said. "The big one, er, Leo, will be here to help when we begin the procedure proper. I shall...

I shall leave you two alone for now," he said, nodding firmly.

Jez brought Katarina's hand up to her face and gently kissed her fingers, before closing her other hand over them. "Thank you. If you need help, let me know." A second Jez leaned out of the first, who was silently hanging her head to rest it against the grasped hands. "I'm very good at multitasking."

Jacques paused for a moment, watching the foreign girl hang on the fingertips of his Princess. And watching Katarina's mild tossing and turning slow down as Jez held her hand.

"You know, back home, I would normally have my partner, Piotr, double-check my work. You would be surprised how often tired eyes can skip over a flaw or a missed detail somewhere along the lines. I would not mind another pair of eyes to make a final check of the mold, to make sure the Princess will look like the Princess."

He turned and walked back over to his work desk, with the clay bust of Katarina had carved, sitting next to the large negative mold, ready for gold pouring.

"Piotr has never come with me to the palace. It is a busy place, and we wouldn't want to send unnecessary people there and clutter up the hallways. But perhaps we will come and see the Princess coronated one day. And perhaps we will see you there, Ano?"

One Jez seemed totally focused upon the princess, but the other was listening to the sculptor's words and quietly moving to join them in front of the clay bust. The princess was a symbol to her people, that was for certain, but perhaps some had been left in the dark and were needing of a ray of hope. She smiled very softly, looking at Jacques only slightly as she stayed mostly focused on the bust.

"I would like that very much, Mr. Ciseleur. I hope that we see that day soon. Very soon." The meaning was not lost on her, but she felt no need to be explicit in her understanding. Instead she looked at the sculpt, looked very hard, trying to imagine it in her golden hue, and in flesh and blood. After a few moments, and without asking for permission, she reached out and pressed her fingertips to it's cheeks and closed her eyes, letting them trace over the facade ever so lightly, feeling the curve and pout of the lips, the shape of the cheekbones. She had to be certain everything was as it should be.

Everything seemed more or less accurate, though it was exceptionally difficult to tell -- how accurately can you reproduce someone's cheekbones, after all? It was, at least, not some kind of overly idealized depiction; perfectly symmetrical or anything like that.

"I haven't sculpted the princess for a couple years; I have done the best I could," Jacques nodded, as he opened a crate filled with...well, quite a lot of gold, honestly, each embossed with the Symkarian state seal. "I don't suppose you'd suggest a horn or something as decoration?" he said, with half a smile.

"Please don't. Horns are not worth the trouble," Leo commented as he lumbered into the room, "I'm always whacking them on things."