Fandom High School

Ivanova stood before her small, motley crew with parade-ground precision, her back straight and her hands clasped behind her back. It might have been far more impressive – or perhaps was more impressive – given that she had returned to the short shorts and tank top look. She was enjoying her freedom while she had it.

"This is our last workshop," she announced. "And I have to say that I've greatly enjoyed my time with you. Your natural talent is impressive and I can only hope that I helped you focus your skills a little better. I know that I was taking notes for myself and if I ever need a vacation, I know who I'm calling in as my back-up." She smiled. "I don't know what more to tell you. Know only that your words will soon be ringing in the ears of uppity captains from Earth to Centauri Prime. I hope you keep in touch."

She relaxed her stance slightly and grinned. "So. For our last class, I'm going to kill you. Dying soliloquys. Iambic pentameter encouraged but not required. You can die dramatically while you're at it, if you like." She waved a box of tissues around for a moment. "In case of sniffles. Go to, go to. It is not so wide as a church door . . ."

[[Srsly, guys, I love you. This class really brightened up a hellish time for me and I just wish I had been around more to play with all of you. Ivanova's sticking around for another week-ish so you can say your last goodbyes, and I hope you'll call. Or write. Or ping me on AIM and we'll twalk. *sniffle* Group hug!]]

Ivanova's feeling delicate and tender and the dark glasses are once again much in evidence. She has a laptop sitting next to her when class begins, and a large, throne-like chair is set up at the front, empty for the moment.

"Morning, everyone," she said, pleasantly enough. "Today we're going to be trying something a little different. The last few weeks we've been working on one-on-one conflicts with an opponent - the outquipping and dialoguing bit. I hope, anyways. Today we're going to be doing some monologuing. Specifically, the good old standby of the rousing the troops speech. I've listened to more than a few of them in my long and speckled career, and I managed to get my hands on some recordings. Shut up and listen."

She poked a few buttons and played recordings, most of an older man who looked like he was from Iowa and should be selling used cars, but knew how to give a truly terrifying speech. A woman with a heavy accent and a strange bone crown gave a truly terrifying two-liner ("Only one human captain has ever survived battle with a Minbari fleet. He is behind me, you are in front of me - if you value your lives, be somewhere else!")

When she ran out of clips, she hit another button that brought up a still photo, a string of ships hovering in Earth's orbit - and ominous shapes looming before them. "Quick future history lesson. Battle of the Line, the ultimate battle of the Earth-Minbari war. The humans on one side, defending Earth, and the Minbari on the other. The Minbari have lost one ship through the entire conflict, swatting our ships like flies. But, as you can see, this -" She tapped the screen, "- is the only chance for survival, to hold off the Minbari long enough to evacuate as much of the population as possible." Including me. Seventeen-year-old me, with my freckled nose pressed to a transport window while I watched my brother's squadron take the skies. "Today, each one of you gets to be the commander of these few, these proud. You have to get them whipped into a battle frenzy. You have to keep them from cutting and running. You have to inspire them." She smirked. "And, of course, by 'them', I mean 'us'. Your fellow peers will be your command. I want a peanut gallery, folks. Make your commander work for it." She jerked her head at the chair. "Chair's a prop. Use it as you will. Get going."

[[So. This lesson was supposed to be filled with cool quotes from Babylon 5. Instead . . . ninjas! There were, uh, ninjas! Yeah! That's it! But if this lesson were to have cool quote and links to sound clips, they would all be from The Down Below Sound Archive. Whose collection of bloopers is true distracting.]]

Ivanova's sitting on top of a picnic table with her elbows on her knees, and the first person to so much as mention the Pink Ladies is going to find themselves in detention faster that Rizzo pounced Kenickie.

"I hope you all enjoyed last week's bit of fun with insults. We're going to move on to a related topic today. As we all know, whether from personal experience or late-night movie marathons, the Bad Guy," this said with a suitably villainous waggle of her eyebrows, "Is rather fond of monologuing at Good Guy - that, hopefully, will be you - often revealing their dastardly plan to carve 'you got punk'd' into Australia with a moon laser. And, of course, insulting you. But because your Bad Guy won't have had the superb training that I have given you, their insults will lack the necessary biting flair.

"This is your opportunity to throw their words back in their face. Charlie," she nodded to Kawalsky, "Got a little taste of this last week when he tried to insult my hockey-playing prowess. I continued the hockey theme and questioned his sexuality a bit. But one of my favourite comebacks was," she shrugged, "Unfortunately uttered by one of my least favourite people. He may be a snake, but he is a witty snake. Garibaldi threatened to use his head as a pinata, but he simply turned, smiled, and said "A pinata? Ah, so you think of me as full of candy and laughter for small children.""

Ivanova hopped off the picnic bench and started pacing. It seemed a compulsion with her. She could never stay still for too long. "You see, the most effective comebacks are the ones that leave your opponent, for lack of a better word, blinking and speechless. Not your garden variety 'your mom' retorts. Those are probably just going to get you laughed at. Your literature teachers, if you ever had any, would have taught you about the importance of motifs and themes in great and boring works of literary pretentiousness. They are no less important here. Continuing the theme makes your comeback more effective, even if it makes it harder on your part. You have to think on your feet and suit your words to the occasion.

"So, speaking of 'your mom' jokes, pair up again. Hopefully different pairs than last week. I want your worst, lamest insult and your partner hopefully comes up with a witty riposte. Marks for creativity. I'll be around to practice on. Go to, go to."

[[OCD a-hoy away! As to why this up later than it should be . . . margaritas are yummy?]]

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Ivanova was sitting very calmly on one of the picnic tables, her feet on the bench and her elbows on her knees. Serene, almost. She hadn't been nervously pacing her alcove last night, nope. Or checked and rechecked the rudimentary lesson plan she had written, rewritten, ripped up, and then taped back together. In fact, Ivanova looked completely in her element without a trace of nerves.

( 'So,' she begins matter-of-factly . . . )

Finally she stood, her back cracking a little as she straightened. "And that's all I have to say today. Your homework for this week - watch as I abuse my power - is to make at least one dramatic entrance. With or without flashy theatrics, your choice."

[[OCD coming up. See here for availability and why it's late. Apologies!]]