Author's Notes: I was so -sure-, playing FFX2, that there would be fanfiction out there. -So- sure. I've only found a handful of Gippal x Baralai fics, though, which really ought to be a crime. Go forth, all of ye, and write! I can't read my own fics, dammit. ^^
More actual Gippal x Baralai will show up in the next chapter; just setting the groundwork, here.
Warnings? Yaoi. Gippal x Baralai. Potential spoilers. Possible technical inaccuracies (ie.- problems with descriptions of Spira, event order, etc). Correct me on these please, folks.
===============
A Bit of Luck
===============
Somehow, sand had gotten into his boot.
Not surprising, considering that tiny grains flew up every time he took a step-- and that these, bane of his existence though they were, were just a tiny portion of what he was beginning to suspect was an endless set of dunes.
What still managed to surprise him was the sheer level of annoyance that it had reached. He'd grown up in the desert, after all; when he'd had parents to go home to, they'd spent much of their time scrubbing the sand from between his toes and behind his ears. He couldn't recall it ever having bothered him before. Certainly couldn't recall an impulse so strong as the one now-- to tear off the offending article and leave its contents to join the rest of the desert.
But then, his childhood memories of Bikanel hadn't included carrying a gun, or the mandatory half-rations that had left him irritable for the past several days. Tellingly, an injured leg also failed to feature prominently in any of them. As did the idiotic ban on healing of all kinds.
Perhaps if the sun had been a little less wilting, or the gash just below his knee didn't burn quite so badly. Perhaps if they'd managed to find just a bit of luck in the mess that they'd been living through, the whole set of ludicrous events from the past few days would have seemed bearable. Maybe then he could have waited until Nooj announced that they could stop for the night. But no one had ever accused Gippal of being a patient man, and the sand was the final misfortune in a stack that was growing to impressive size.
Without preamble, Gippal plopped down in the sand, gingerly stretching the wounded leg out before him. "That's it," he declared, leaning back to rest his weight on the palms of his hands. "Break time."
It was, of course, less than a full second before the incredulous gazes of his team members were on him.
"We haven't covered the allotted ground for today," came the immediate correction. He wasn't at all surprised to find Nooj's disapproving stare-- complete with the beginnings of an intimidating frown-- heading his way.
"Well," Gippal offered in return, "The allotted ground's going to have to wait a bit, isn't it?"
"It's imperative that we reach the finish within the time limit," their leader insisted, for about the eighteenth time that day. "If we fail this section of the training--"
Rolling his eye skyward, Gippal waved a hand dismissively. "--we won't have a chance of getting into the squad. I know, I know." He reached forward, unconcernedly, to begin unlacing his boot. "Few minutes isn't gonna make a difference much one way or another though, nekrd? (right?)"
"It will make plenty of difference once we..." Nooj trailed off mid-sentence, diverted as Paine hoisted the sphere that she carried habitually by her side. His utter lack of amusement might have been funny, had the situation been different. "We don't need a record to remind us of this," he informed her, tone clipped.
Whatever reply she might have made was cut short, though, as Baralai picked that moment to lower himself shakily to the sand below. It was the first time in hours that the Al Bhed had gotten a good look at his companion, and the sight was enough to unnerve him. The usually distant features were tight with pain, and the ashen cast to the boy's face was visible even under dark skin.
As he wrested his foot from the offending article of clothing, Gippal felt a wave of sympathy. At least he'd only damaged his leg in the scuffle that they'd come so near to losing.
This time, the disapproval in the eyes of the Deathseeker wasn't meant for the Al Bhed boy. "Both of you?"
Keeping his head bowed, Baralai studied the sand between his fingers. "I'm sorry."
Scowling, Gippal tossed a handful of sand in Nooj's direction. "Ur, keja ed y nacd . (Oh, give it a rest.) It wasn't his fault."
And indeed, it hadn't been. They'd all agreed that Baralai ought to keep the map; after all, he had a sort of knack for it, was able to pinpoint their location in places where the rest would have unhesitatingly given up.
It had been nothing more than terrible luck. None of them could have known that the same claw swipe that was to tear the flesh from his side would also tear through the fabric of his pocket. It was only after they'd resumed their travels some hours later that he'd realized the damage ran deeper than physical wounds.
Their map had been reduced to two strips of paper, both blood-soaked and illegible.
Nevertheless, the Al Bhed was of the opinion that Nooj was being somewhat of a bastard. Baralai had sustained the worst of the injuries in their little group, after all. He'd also kept pace uncomplainingly for the two days since the incident-- had gone so far as to assure them that the wound wasn't bleeding any more.
The Al Bhed boy suspected that he'd been lying.
The Deathseeker pressed his lips together, displeasure still evident in his expression.. "I suppose not," Nooj conceded unwillingly. He thought for a moment, shaking his head slightly. "That doesn't mean that he can slack off now, though."
"What can I say?" Gippal grinned upward as he freed the second foot. "Dissention in the ranks."
As though to prove the point, Paine zoomed in on their leader's reaction; she'd begun to record, after all.
With a long-suffering sigh, Nooj joined them on the ground. "Fine. But we travel again shortly."
"Cuihtc kuut. (Sounds good.)" And Gippal flopped backward onto the sand, intending to make 'shortly' as far away as possible.
~end of part 1~
More actual Gippal x Baralai will show up in the next chapter; just setting the groundwork, here.
Warnings? Yaoi. Gippal x Baralai. Potential spoilers. Possible technical inaccuracies (ie.- problems with descriptions of Spira, event order, etc). Correct me on these please, folks.
===============
A Bit of Luck
===============
Somehow, sand had gotten into his boot.
Not surprising, considering that tiny grains flew up every time he took a step-- and that these, bane of his existence though they were, were just a tiny portion of what he was beginning to suspect was an endless set of dunes.
What still managed to surprise him was the sheer level of annoyance that it had reached. He'd grown up in the desert, after all; when he'd had parents to go home to, they'd spent much of their time scrubbing the sand from between his toes and behind his ears. He couldn't recall it ever having bothered him before. Certainly couldn't recall an impulse so strong as the one now-- to tear off the offending article and leave its contents to join the rest of the desert.
But then, his childhood memories of Bikanel hadn't included carrying a gun, or the mandatory half-rations that had left him irritable for the past several days. Tellingly, an injured leg also failed to feature prominently in any of them. As did the idiotic ban on healing of all kinds.
Perhaps if the sun had been a little less wilting, or the gash just below his knee didn't burn quite so badly. Perhaps if they'd managed to find just a bit of luck in the mess that they'd been living through, the whole set of ludicrous events from the past few days would have seemed bearable. Maybe then he could have waited until Nooj announced that they could stop for the night. But no one had ever accused Gippal of being a patient man, and the sand was the final misfortune in a stack that was growing to impressive size.
Without preamble, Gippal plopped down in the sand, gingerly stretching the wounded leg out before him. "That's it," he declared, leaning back to rest his weight on the palms of his hands. "Break time."
It was, of course, less than a full second before the incredulous gazes of his team members were on him.
"We haven't covered the allotted ground for today," came the immediate correction. He wasn't at all surprised to find Nooj's disapproving stare-- complete with the beginnings of an intimidating frown-- heading his way.
"Well," Gippal offered in return, "The allotted ground's going to have to wait a bit, isn't it?"
"It's imperative that we reach the finish within the time limit," their leader insisted, for about the eighteenth time that day. "If we fail this section of the training--"
Rolling his eye skyward, Gippal waved a hand dismissively. "--we won't have a chance of getting into the squad. I know, I know." He reached forward, unconcernedly, to begin unlacing his boot. "Few minutes isn't gonna make a difference much one way or another though, nekrd? (right?)"
"It will make plenty of difference once we..." Nooj trailed off mid-sentence, diverted as Paine hoisted the sphere that she carried habitually by her side. His utter lack of amusement might have been funny, had the situation been different. "We don't need a record to remind us of this," he informed her, tone clipped.
Whatever reply she might have made was cut short, though, as Baralai picked that moment to lower himself shakily to the sand below. It was the first time in hours that the Al Bhed had gotten a good look at his companion, and the sight was enough to unnerve him. The usually distant features were tight with pain, and the ashen cast to the boy's face was visible even under dark skin.
As he wrested his foot from the offending article of clothing, Gippal felt a wave of sympathy. At least he'd only damaged his leg in the scuffle that they'd come so near to losing.
This time, the disapproval in the eyes of the Deathseeker wasn't meant for the Al Bhed boy. "Both of you?"
Keeping his head bowed, Baralai studied the sand between his fingers. "I'm sorry."
Scowling, Gippal tossed a handful of sand in Nooj's direction. "Ur, keja ed y nacd . (Oh, give it a rest.) It wasn't his fault."
And indeed, it hadn't been. They'd all agreed that Baralai ought to keep the map; after all, he had a sort of knack for it, was able to pinpoint their location in places where the rest would have unhesitatingly given up.
It had been nothing more than terrible luck. None of them could have known that the same claw swipe that was to tear the flesh from his side would also tear through the fabric of his pocket. It was only after they'd resumed their travels some hours later that he'd realized the damage ran deeper than physical wounds.
Their map had been reduced to two strips of paper, both blood-soaked and illegible.
Nevertheless, the Al Bhed was of the opinion that Nooj was being somewhat of a bastard. Baralai had sustained the worst of the injuries in their little group, after all. He'd also kept pace uncomplainingly for the two days since the incident-- had gone so far as to assure them that the wound wasn't bleeding any more.
The Al Bhed boy suspected that he'd been lying.
The Deathseeker pressed his lips together, displeasure still evident in his expression.. "I suppose not," Nooj conceded unwillingly. He thought for a moment, shaking his head slightly. "That doesn't mean that he can slack off now, though."
"What can I say?" Gippal grinned upward as he freed the second foot. "Dissention in the ranks."
As though to prove the point, Paine zoomed in on their leader's reaction; she'd begun to record, after all.
With a long-suffering sigh, Nooj joined them on the ground. "Fine. But we travel again shortly."
"Cuihtc kuut. (Sounds good.)" And Gippal flopped backward onto the sand, intending to make 'shortly' as far away as possible.
~end of part 1~
