The light in the penthouse came from a single shaded lamp on an end-table next to a comfortable couch; it was dark outside, and the lights from the city were
carefully filtered by expensive, clever little devices in the windows. It made for a cozy atmosphere.
Or would have, save for a certain frustrated singer.
"I'm not a fucking teacher, Sylia!"
"You have been before."
Priss stared, baffled, at her lover. "How do you figure -that-?" she asked sarcastically. "'cause I sure don't remember anything of
the sort." She scowled and flopped back on the couch, closing her eyes. "Why don't you ask Linna? She's the one who used to be an
instructor. Kind of. You know what I mean."
Sylia nodded agreeably. "Linna will be doing something similar, yes. As will Nene and myself. It all depends on the student." She spread her
hands. "Priss, you know as well as I do how dangerous it is out there. We've helped the new Sabres as much as we can... this is the next logical
step. Crey seems to have slowed down, which is good, but some of these new girls have even less idea of how to use their abilities than -we- did." She
paused for a moment. "I can't say we owe them, exactly, but I do feel that helping them is something we should do."
Priss waved a hand. "Oh, sure, I get that, I'm all for it, really I am, but c'mon, Sylia! I'm not exactly the teacher type."
"Yes, you are, Priss."
Priss raised her head and stared at Sylia. "How?" she said, a hint of challenge in her voice, knowing Sylia could read the defiance in her
expression.
"A teacher is one who has something to impart and can help another learn it," Sylia said primly. "You fit that definition, however loosely.
You just don't want to admit it."
"That's a load of --"
"You -inspire-, Priss. You -motivate-. You do it every time you're on stage; it's why your band -- YOUR band, not THE band or A band -- follows
you." Sylia smiled then, a rather unusual grin for the usually reserved Sabre leader. "Believe me when I say that you can inspire people to do
things they never thought they could."
Priss stared, confused, before the meaning sank in. She blushed lightly. "Hey!"
Sylia let her grin spread a little wider.
"... not what I -meant-..." Priss grumbled, sitting up again. "Okay, fine," she sighed. "I don't think this is such a hot idea,
Sylia, but if you want me to ... motivate... some of the new girls, I'll give it a shot. For you," she added.
Sylia nodded. "I would definitely owe you one," she said by way of thanks.
"... lot more than one..." Priss groused, trailing off as Sylia leaned forward and lazily traced a fingernail up her thigh.
"Oh?" Sylia's smile was almost predatory. "Shall we discuss a... payment plan, then?"
"... that's not fair, Sylia," Priss whimpered.
"I -told- you you were inspiring," Sylia replied. "Consider me... motivated."
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
carefully filtered by expensive, clever little devices in the windows. It made for a cozy atmosphere.
Or would have, save for a certain frustrated singer.
"I'm not a fucking teacher, Sylia!"
"You have been before."
Priss stared, baffled, at her lover. "How do you figure -that-?" she asked sarcastically. "'cause I sure don't remember anything of
the sort." She scowled and flopped back on the couch, closing her eyes. "Why don't you ask Linna? She's the one who used to be an
instructor. Kind of. You know what I mean."
Sylia nodded agreeably. "Linna will be doing something similar, yes. As will Nene and myself. It all depends on the student." She spread her
hands. "Priss, you know as well as I do how dangerous it is out there. We've helped the new Sabres as much as we can... this is the next logical
step. Crey seems to have slowed down, which is good, but some of these new girls have even less idea of how to use their abilities than -we- did." She
paused for a moment. "I can't say we owe them, exactly, but I do feel that helping them is something we should do."
Priss waved a hand. "Oh, sure, I get that, I'm all for it, really I am, but c'mon, Sylia! I'm not exactly the teacher type."
"Yes, you are, Priss."
Priss raised her head and stared at Sylia. "How?" she said, a hint of challenge in her voice, knowing Sylia could read the defiance in her
expression.
"A teacher is one who has something to impart and can help another learn it," Sylia said primly. "You fit that definition, however loosely.
You just don't want to admit it."
"That's a load of --"
"You -inspire-, Priss. You -motivate-. You do it every time you're on stage; it's why your band -- YOUR band, not THE band or A band -- follows
you." Sylia smiled then, a rather unusual grin for the usually reserved Sabre leader. "Believe me when I say that you can inspire people to do
things they never thought they could."
Priss stared, confused, before the meaning sank in. She blushed lightly. "Hey!"
Sylia let her grin spread a little wider.
"... not what I -meant-..." Priss grumbled, sitting up again. "Okay, fine," she sighed. "I don't think this is such a hot idea,
Sylia, but if you want me to ... motivate... some of the new girls, I'll give it a shot. For you," she added.
Sylia nodded. "I would definitely owe you one," she said by way of thanks.
"... lot more than one..." Priss groused, trailing off as Sylia leaned forward and lazily traced a fingernail up her thigh.
"Oh?" Sylia's smile was almost predatory. "Shall we discuss a... payment plan, then?"
"... that's not fair, Sylia," Priss whimpered.
"I -told- you you were inspiring," Sylia replied. "Consider me... motivated."
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs