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Taranis released her hand and raked his own through his hair. "You would've dusted it," he said. It was his way of waving away his intervention. It hadn't been entirely necessary. They both knew it. He just felt a touch of guilt since it was his job to instruct her in the first place. Oh well, the night had been a long one, and he was just happy they had come away without any sort of injury.

A clump of mud lingered on Denebola's shoulder. Taranis brushed it away. "You were fine," he said, but there was a note of criticism in it. She had things to work on, but he did meant it when he said she did fine. Just fine, but still fine. For a new senshi, fine was a lot better than dead. "Everyone has a lot to learn starting out. You're progressing, that's what it is important."

One hand dangled over his head as he stretched, walking down the length of the alley. "We should head back that way, finish the circuit. Then we can split." Taranis started to walk away, but then stopped and turned. "Did you have any questions?" He paused.

Taranis nodded slowly as Denebola spoke. He liked that she was evaluating herself, and it showed in his expression. "That's good. Be critical. Be harder on yourself than me or anyone else could be. That is the sort of thinking that will keep you alive. You don't want to be too arrogant, or too fatalistic. The extremes put you in hot water. A good senshi is a careful-but-effective senshi," he said, sounding more like a trainer than he had in any of their previous encounters. As bizarre as it was for him to think of himself as a helper, the senshi of sand got enormous satisfaction out of working with new senshi. The closest he had gotten to a mentor coming up in the ranks was Castor -- and they hardly had a professional mentor/mentee relationship, especially now.

The thought brought a hard lump to his throat. Christmas was coming. If Castor hadn't killed Linarite by the new year, then she would be back on his list, back on his mind of someone to snuff out of their city.

Clear blue eyes blinked back to the present conversation as they continued walking. Denebola was making solid progress. Taranis couldn't ask for much more. Her questions, too, showed a forward-thinking mind -- all more signs that she might stand to be an excellent senshi. "If you sense a stronger power aura than your own, do not engage," he said first, punctuating the point with his hands. "Lieutenants are on your level." Denebola knew this, but Taranis had no problem repeating himself. "A good senshi should be able to take on a Nega, but there is much more risk involved with one of them. Even a lieutenant can kick your a**," he said, and then added, "trust me." How many times had Taranis been on the losing end of a Nega battle? Certainly more than he would like to say.

"Just remember that youma are mindless and meandering. They go for the easy kill, fall into simple traps, and are otherwise relatively easy to manipulate. A Nega, though, is just like you. They can trick you. They can spot your weak points. They can trap you." The path wound around store fronts and shop facades, all darkened -- some with smashed out windows from the general mayhem of DC. "A battle against a Nega is much more mental. You have to think three steps ahead, maybe more. And I always recommend calling for back-up. Always. There is no reason to take an unnecessary risk. Even if you think you can take someone on your own, you are always better off with back-up."

His mind wandered back to all the times he should've called for help but didn't. Even in fights he had won, Taranis still thought having another senshi there just to help out would have been a benefit. For someone who always cast himself as a loner in life, the senshi of sand had learned the value of teamwork and of networking. It just took becoming a senshi to do that. "I had to learn that the hard way. A lot of senshi learned it a harder way." Taranis stopped abruptly and stared hard at Denebola. "They died."

The pair were nearing the end of their circuit, and the night was waning late. It had been a productive patrol. No dead civilians, just a dead youma. It was the kind of night that Taranis was always grateful for. "You're lightyears ahead, Denebola, just because you're here with me." Taranis had no idea how pompous he sounded when he said it. He didn't mean because it was him, just that she was training. "When I started out, I didn't really have anyone to teach me anything. It would've helped." A shrug rolled off his shoulders.

Taranis stopped walking. "Of course I have to help you," he said sharply. "And when you learn the ropes, it will be your responsibility to help others like you too. That's what we do. We make each other better so that we can all be stronger, together." The words made him feel a little stupid. It was the same jargon that countless organizations had used to draw people to their cause, and for the first time in his life, Taranis had drank the kool-aid too. He believed the cliched words that he spewed. He truly did think that the senshi could only win if they supported each other, if they became one great wall to oppose all the slings and arrows of the Negaverse.

It was times like these that Taranis puzzled at the person he had become.

A gloved hand raked through his hair. "The auras are hard to explain until you feel them yourself, unfortunately," he began with a sigh. They had reached the end of their patrol, but he had time to spare, especially if it was to answer a good question. "When I first started, I found it was easier focus on them with my eyes closed. But be careful with that. It can leave you open to attack if you're being watched."

Taranis took a step away from her and gestured at the space between them. "Standing here, next to you, I can feel a warm glow coming off of you. That is how it feels to me: warm. The Negas feel cold to me. I get chills. I've heard it is different to other people. One person describe the Nega aura to be as 'unsettling' and another said 'like a black pit' so it really just depends. But trust me -- you will feel it. The stronger the Nega, the farther away you will feel it too." He remembered the pulse of dark energy the night he met the pink-haired corrupted sailor, the stronger pulse when he met Linarite as a general, and the gut-wrenching ice that filled the room whenever Beryl was there.

Denebola might not know now, but she would understand soon. "Close your eyes. Focus on how I feel to you. I should feel like a stronger aura, stronger than your own. This is what a super senshi feels like. This is what a Captain would feel like to you, roughly, but with dark energy instead. Never trust a person who you sense that bad energy from, no matter what the say, no matter who they are." Taranis waited for her to search her sense for the blip of his energy.

It was hard to say who might turn out to be a good senshi and who would become a burden. Taranis wasn't even sure if he was qualified to make those calls. If someone had seen him six months ago, they would have probably written him off as a lost cause too. In all his fights, he almost always ended up running, or getting badly injured. It seemed like luck had just as much to do with his success than battle skill. Granted, that had changed in time. Taranis had gotten better; he fought smarter. It was with that experience that he had begun to look backward, to see the needs of the younger senshi, senshi like Denebola.

"You'll get it," he said quickly. The Senshi of Sand wasn't going to pad her ego, but he could spare a few kind words. She had done well tonight and was ahead of the pack already just for showing up to training. "We all do." He paused. "Or we die."

Well, it was mostly nice.

When Denebola focused on his aura, Taranis shifted awkwardly. It was as if she was waiting for him to kiss her, the closed eyes and the strange posture, but he dropped his eyes to the ground and thought instead of kissing Dani. And then the Senshi of Dragonflies was staring at him again. "One of these days, we will find a Nega, and I will let you sense it then too. But for tonight, lesson's over. I need to run." To Dani, actually. Taranis had a habit of checking up on her now that he knew she was actually alive and all.

Giving Denebola a stiff goodbye, Taranis promised to get in touch with her about another training session soon and then jogged quietly off into the distance.