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Just as Noctua had taken her fate into her own hands with her transfer to Benitoite, she was taking it into her own hands again in searching for a teacher to better her physical abilities. Benitoite provided a safe harbor for her to heal and recuperate. He was as a parent to her, making for her a space which was safe for her to be challenged and to challenge her outright. His expectations were high, but fair. Faustite challenged her mind, forcing her to think in ways she had not before. In ways that she had not previously thought herself capable. He stretched her consciousness to the brink and beyond. And now she needed someone to do the same things to her body. To work her beyond what she had previously thought herself capable. To expect of her what was fair, but to be expectant of those things. To punish when those expectations were not met.

Xenotime.

That was the name that kept being given to her when she asked for just such a teacher. Xenotime will push you. No. Xenotime with shove you until you succeed. Xenotime will batter you until you shine. She will not allow failure. She will not accept anything less then you're absolute best. And if Noctua wanted to prove herself worthy of what Alkaid had -- what that male senshi was no doubt achieving as she spoke -- then she would need someone to demand that of her.

That was who Noctua wanted. That was who she strode towards now, in the dark of night, with her hood pulled up around her face against the chill of later December. The energy signal that she gave off radiated around her, a beacon that drew the slighter senshi towards her. And once she was in earshot, she called out, "General," her voice holding a steady timbre.

Ah, another nickname. Noctua grinned at it, aware of how fitting it was, given her slight stature. She pushed her hood back from her head, shaven head bowing in greeting of the superior officer before her. Closer now, the older woman's aura was shocking. That wasn't even saying anything about her presence, either. Such confidence... Noctua envied it. But better than envying it, she wanted to emulate it. Make it her own. Thin lips spread into a smile as she bowed her head in greeting, though her eyes never left Xenotime's figure. She was, in ever sense of the word, powerful, and Noctua was driven to respect that. The same way the wild aura of Cinnabar had demanded her respect. The same way Benitoite's dedication inspired her respect.

"Noctua, please. Not that I mind the names, of course.

"And you are General Xenotime. Your reputation precedes you, General. Everyone I asked told me to seek you out for training in battle. I hope they weren't over-generous with their praise though... upon first glance, it seems that they weren't."

She spread her arms, exposing herself to the general, with that same dry smile.

"Where do you wish to begin, General. I am yours to guide as you see fit."

I'd like you tyo try and strike me.

a simple enough order, but Noctua had never prepared and executed and planned attack before. All of her fights had been wild and fueled by fear. She had lost some and she had won some, but all by various strokes and shades of luck. Where did she hit? How hard did she throw the punch? Would it hurt her or Xenotime?

The last one would be easy enough to answer. Noctua glanced down at her own bony hands, so small -- like the rest of her. She would not hurt Xenotime.

It would have been easier to just tell Xenotime that her experiences were distressingly few. But an order was an order, and so Noctua cleared her throat, braced herself back on her heels, and took a swing. From her shoulder. Way out to the side. Without any measure of control of discipline involved. She even squeaked a bit when she did so.