justsookie: (but yours? I can't get a handle on)
Sookie Stackhouse ([personal profile] justsookie) wrote2010-06-23 07:16 pm
Entry tags:

it reminds me of walking through the avenues

Although relatively petite and blonde, Sookie Stackhouse was far from helpless in defending herself; between having a sharp tongue, skill in wielding heavy chains, and knowing her way around a gun, most people in Bon Temps didn't dare cross her path when she was in one of her moods, mind-reading abilities notwithstanding. But time on the island without a shotgun propped against her wall and with the ever-present reminder of the fact that no matter how many times she prayed for her grandmother's arrival, Rene's was just as likely, had driven Sookie to the point where she needed to find a more disciplined way to go about it. Something which didn't require a quick sprint on over to the weapon.

Which was why, in addition to the secret meetings she'd planned with one Alice Cullen, Sookie also found herself hovering around the twice a week martial arts classes at the Island School. The fact that Buffy Summers was the instructor was just the icing on the cake, Sookie's face barely containing a wide grin as she bit down on her lower lip, standing outside the classroom about fifteen minutes before the scheduled start of class. And if there was one thing that Sookie could say, it was that Buffy was a million times prettier up close and personal.

(Even if a bit shorter than Sookie always imagined.)

Steeling her nerves, Sookie knocked on the propped door and peeked inside. "Um, hi? You're Buffy Summers, right? I was wonderin' if it'd be possible to join this class at all."

[identity profile] chose.livejournal.com 2010-06-23 03:57 am (UTC)(link)
No matter how many times she instructed the class on a new drill, assigned them into groups of four, or corrected someone's stance, Buffy wasn't sure she could ever get used to the idea that she was a teacher of something. That she was teaching someone (many someones, in fact.) Even as a counselor at the high school, she had often felt more at mercy of the students than anything else; they sobbed and sobbed and accused her of not understanding and then sobbed some more. Try as she might, Buffy was not a doctor, and though she could lend an ear and say the reassuring things she hoped they wanted to hear, she couldn't connect with the students on a personal level. They were worried about their boyfriends and girlfriends and next week's history exam; Buffy had spent her high school years anticipating the next apocalypse. It was hard to relate.

Here, though, in this gym — here, she felt at home. Within the confines of the Martial Arts classroom, Buffy never had to doubt herself. If there was one place on this island where she belonged, this was it. She was stretching when she heard the knock, blonde pony-tail tickling the mat as she bent to touched her toes and then some.

"Hi," she called back, with much more energy that she had ever been able to muster this early in the morning. It was funny how much a renewed sense of importance could do for a girl. Riding to an upright position, Buffy waved to the girl and headed toward the door. "Yeah, I'm her. She's me. We're one and the same. And yeah, if you want to, absolutely. What's your name? I don't think we've met — please tell me we haven't met. There's nothing worse than thinking you're meeting someone you already met and just forgot completely."

[identity profile] chose.livejournal.com 2010-06-28 04:26 am (UTC)(link)
"People say I'm a great teacher?" No, not the most important morsel or information to glean from Sookie's words, but Buffy couldn't help herself. Confident as she (occasionally) was in her own skill and knowledge on the subject, she had never been the best of students, and taking on the role of teacher had terrified her at first. It still did at times, though she was thankful that the island school was forgiving of her resistance to regular conventions. It was her class, and she could do things her way. The Watcher's Council could stand to take a note or ten.

If they hadn't all blown up, that is.

With a sheepish smile, Buffy shook Sookie's hand. "Sorry, hi. I'm glad we haven't met. Wait, that sounds wrong. I mean that I'm glad we haven't met before, as in this is our first time meeting so I didn't embarrass myself by forgetting your name. Fortunately, I found a much more efficient method of supreme self-embarrassment: opening my mouth."

[identity profile] chose.livejournal.com 2010-07-21 06:39 am (UTC)(link)
"I never really cared for dominoes," Buffy offered, tilting her head down with a soft smile. She was intimately familiar with the feeling, especially for extreme lack of trying. Though she felt for Sookie, it was nice to have something in common with her already; if anything, Buffy could tell she'd be fun to have around.

"So, do you have any experience?" Buffy asked, momentarily slipping into a teacher-mode she never knew she had before. "It's not required, but I'd probably have to teach you the basics and such. You know, everything we've covered so far, just so that you don't fall behind. It's not much, I promise. You'll probably catch on right away."

[identity profile] chose.livejournal.com 2010-07-24 03:15 pm (UTC)(link)
"Chains," repeated Buffy, with an automatic raise of her brow. Never one to underestimate any opponent — particularly one so similar, if only in appearance, to her own self — Buffy knew that it was those least likely to kick ass that one has to watch out for. She had been mistaken for harmless herself often enough to know, and if that wasn't enough, her experience battling Glory certainly filled the gap.

But she had to admit to being curious (maybe even morbidly so) as to where the chains came in.