One More Confessional
Part Seven
197S9.9.07
I have a sword again!
On my way back to our camp, I paid one last visit to the main encampment, just to see if there was anything big I missed, and I found it. It's shorter than I usually like, and it's not the finest material, but it's sharp. Nice and heavy, too. I may not get much of a chance to use it, but I've felt rather naked walking around without one. Guns are great, they have their uses, but there's nothing like a blade.
Some might disapprove of the method I used to acquire it. But really, is it my fault that they've left the armory so poorly guarded?
I feel better already.
197S9.9.08
It's different, waking up here at the pool, curled up with Nooj. Very peaceful. Now I wish we had slept here every night.
Last night-- mm. Finding that sword yesterday did a lot to soothe my spirits, as did performing well at our impromptu shooting session later that afternoon, but I didn't really feel right again until we came here. When we're together like that, I can forget -- forget who I was, forget what I lived through. There's no room for memories when he is stroking my face, or tracing my breasts with his mouth, or slowly moving inside me. He is very much of the now.
Nooj. I want to capture him here, in words, but every time I try, I fail. He is-- amazing? Breathtaking? Magnificent? All those things and more, but I set them down in black ink on white paper and they look so silly, so trite. If I were a poet, maybe I could do him justice, but I'm not. I'm a recorder. I don't create, I observe. I think that's why I keep a journal rather than writing anything imaginative.
He always looks straight at me, as if he is peering through my eyes and into my soul. I know that he can't be, I've shown him so little of myself, but I feel it anyway. I wonder what he sees, and what he's thinking. when he looks at me like that. I don't truly know much of him, either, beyond the obvious: the scarring; his frustration at his awkward gait; the way he groans, deep in his throat, when I touch him just so.
This was the first time we spent a whole night together. And I discovered something new: Nooj talks in his sleep. At one point he woke me up by mumbling something in my ear. At first I thought he was trying to rouse me, but it soon became clear that he was fast asleep himself. I have to admit, I find it kind of endearing. He keeps such tight control over himself while awake, it's no wonder his mind looks for an outlet when his body relaxes. I didn't really understand what he was saying, although I did catch my name a couple of times. At least I hope it was my name; the word does have another meaning, after all, a darker one.
I'm going to miss this. I don't doubt that we'll still find a way to be together, but we'll never have long, leisurely nights like these again, not unless-- No. I am not going to think about that. One day at a time, Paine, one day at a time. Let's survive the training first.
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Hurry up and wait, as usual. They marched us down to the boats with great speed and impatience, and now we're just standing around, for hours now. Naturally. Baralai picked up a staff somewhere and noticed that I found a sword, and he asked if I'd be willing to spar. I wasn't about to turn that down, so we fought a few times. He's quite good with the staff, but he's not as good as I am with the sword -- we're not really evenly matched. It's like that time I sparred with Nooj, except in reverse. Still, it was glorious to fight with a blade again. I have missed it so much. But I just don't see how I'm going to use a sword and a recorder at the same time. Better to carry the gun; I can switch to it much more quickly. The sword will go in my pack.
Then Baralai challenged Gippal to a bare-handed fight. Now that was fun. Gippal so obviously thought he was indulging Baralai by saying yes, and then he got his clock cleaned. I figured it was coming, since priests and summoners are all drilled extensively in hand-to-hand combat, but the look on Gippal's face when he realized he was beaten was absolutely priceless. I held Baralai's staff for him while they dueled, and I had to lean on it, I was laughing so hard. I wonder if Nooj saw.
The change in Baralai over the last few days has been rather amazing. He seems much more confident, more comfortable in his own skin and with his unique abilities. I hate to admit it, but maybe that last quarrel with Nooj did him some good. If nothing else, it certainly seems to have stiffened his backbone.
Here comes Nooj. With orders to load onto the boat? I can only hope.
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We are surrounded by people. Unwashed, obnoxious, stupid people. Thanks to the secluded camp that Nooj found, we've been mostly apart from the others for so long, and I hadn't realized how much I was enjoying the relative solitude. Now it's gone, and people may start getting hurt if they don't give me my space. At least I was able to make that point rather forcefully earlier. Possibly the most obnoxious and unwashed man on the entire boat tried to hit on me less than an hour after we got underway. So I hit on him back. With my fist. What a wimp -- just one punch and he was down, bawling like a little girl. Baralai looked horrified, but I am almost positive I saw Nooj smile.
Baralai. Poor, stupid Baralai. I understand why he healed that guy; it's part of his moral code to help suffering people whenever he can, and, perhaps uniquely among Yevonites of my acquaintance, Baralai's moral code is important to him. But still, he should have known that he'd be opening the floodgates. There don't seem to be many healers on the Crimson Squad, and as soon as he cured the first guy, everyone else came running, with all their cuts and scrapes and brawling injuries and venereal diseases -- there are two other women on the boat, and they already seem to have set up shop in the only private quarters below decks. I'm no prude; I give myself when and to whom I chose. But the idea of playing the whore disgusts me. Not even on my very worst days on the streets did I so much as consider it. There's always a better way to survive.
Anyway, Baralai isn't going to have a moment's peace on this trip now. And neither am I if it gets out that I know him. I think I'll go up on deck. Nooj is looking a little green down here in the cramped and stinking hold; I should get him to join me. Fresh air will do us both good.
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I'm enjoying the fresh air, and so is Gippal -- that boy is clearly a born sailor -- but it doesn't seem to have helped Nooj much, if at all. He's gripping the railing so hard that the knuckles on his right hand are turning white, and I think the metal under the machina hand might start to bend before too long. The ocean is really quite gentle (this is nothing like my last crossing) so I don't know why he's taking it so badly. I guess he must just be prone to seasickness. The sun is setting; maybe if I can convince him to go below deck and find a secluded place to sleep, he'll feel better.
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It didn't work. If anything, he's worse, writhing and moaning and holding his stomach. He can't keep anything down, not even water, and I'm getting very worried.
I think I'd better go find Baralai. The teeming multitudes are going to have to wait.
197S9.9.09
I take back everything I said about Baralai yesterday. He's been a wonder, staying with Nooj every second, casting sleeping and healing spells on him, renewing the magic whenever he starts to wake. He can't cure the seasickness, but he can dull the worst of its effects. I don't know if Nooj would even survive otherwise.
I haven't left him, either. I know there's nothing I can do. He probably doesn't even know I'm here. But I can't bear the idea of leaving him, even in Baralai's capable hands. At least I can let him rest his head in my lap, and sponge down his sweating face, and make him take a little water when he wakes. It makes me feel less helpless.
Baralai tried to convince me to get some sleep, but I can't. Not until I know he's going to be all right. I will stay here and stand watch over him, for as long as it takes.