One More Confessional
Part Fourteen
197S9.9.20
I should probably change the date, I'm sure it's after midnight. But I don't like putting a new date on an entry until I've had a full night's sleep and the sun has risen. We've gone to bed, but I haven't slept yet. Nooj is asleep, though, lying on his back as he always does -- I doubt any other position would be comfortable with the heavy machina limbs in the way. It's dark enough that I can only really see an outline, a shadow, but he seems completely relaxed, and thinking about everything we just did to put him in this state makes me want to wake him up and start all over again. I won't, though; it's rare that I get to observe him at peace.
I need to get some sleep myself, but I wanted to take this moment to watch him unobserved first, to memorize what I can of his sleeping form. There was something about the way he was looking at me tonight, an intensity in his eyes, that I want to make sure I remember. Besides, who knows when or even if I'll have another chance to take him in like this. Tomorrow, we break camp, heading for the boat and then points unknown. I know I've said before just how eager I am to leave this desert, but now that we're really going, I'm strangely reluctant to move forward. This place is safe. When we're back out in the world, he may find his opportunity--
I can't. I can't write it.
I don't want to think it either, but now that I have I can't think about anything else. Dammit.
No. This is not a night for despair. It was too perfect, neither of us holding back in our passion; I don't want to dwell on anything that will taint the memory of it. Every night, I decide that we have reached the highest peak possible, that it can never possibly be better than that. The next night, I am always proven wrong.
I can worry about the future in the morning. It looks like Nooj may be stirring; he will make an excellent distraction from my fears. Even if he is also the cause of them.
197S9.9.21
Fiend-damned Maesters. I wish they would make up their minds. Stay, go, prepare to leave, wait some more-- I don't know how much more of this I can take. They called Baralai in again, and they questioned Nooj a second time first thing this morning.
In hopes of figuring out what's going on, I took a casual turn around their tent a few minutes ago and heard them arguing loudly about whether to spend more time looking for the pistols. One of the Maesters, the fat one, seems desperate to get them back, while the other, the part-Guado with the oily voice, is urging him to give up and move on -- he kept saying something about a schedule and a plan. They didn't sound very happy with each other. Nooj seemed particularly pleased to hear that part of my report.
Once we do move, Nooj is going to be in charge of the entire operation. About time someone recognized that he's the only person here with even a clue of how to lead a military force. He's asked me to take the front with him, and I accepted the honor with pleasure. No one specifically told me to record today -- they're still ignoring me pretty completely, might as well take advantage of it -- and I would love nothing better than to fight at his side. I think I'm going to pull out my sword for the occasion. I have missed it so.
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This, this is how battle should be: my rifle holstered over my shoulder, my sword on my back, that damned camera buried in the bottom of my bag, fighting at the right hand of our leader, my captain, Nooj. Nooj the Undying, Nooj the Deathseeker, Nooj the love of my life is in command of this army. A small, rag-tag, broken army, but an army nonetheless. Supported by his two trusted lieutenants, by Gippal's energy and unwavering loyalty and by Baralai's quiet strength and keen mind, he could do anything. Seeing the three of them sitting together on a large boulder, in animated discussion of our next move as we prepare to break this rest, I am suddenly seized by a vision: a vision of Squadron Five, lead by Nooj, turning the army around and leading it in battle against the Maesters and their servants who dog our steps, hiding behind a curtain of spells, and exterminating them like the vermin they are. And then moving onward, calling others to join us as we move against Yevon -- the Crusaders, whatever else remains of the Crimson Squad, legions of Al Bhed, drawing even from the ranks of the warrior monks, many of whom are just as disillusioned with the Maesters and their secrets and their treachery as anyone else. We would form a righteous invading force lead by the greatest military mind Spira has ever known, sweep into Bevelle and raze the temple, striking a death blow to the black heart of Yevon and thereby freeing my world from the evil that has enslaved it for too long.
Pure fantasy? Oh, probably. But it's my fantasy, and I like it. And if anyone could make it real, it's Nooj. The Crusaders, at least, would follow him into hell if he asked it of them. And so would I.
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The beach, at last! We had to clear out a nest of fiends to take it, mostly the flying eye types and some odd snake-like beasts. The four of us took care of them all. The fliers were too fast for me to hit with a sword, so Baralai knocked them down with his staff and I smashed them underfoot or with the butt of my gun; messy, but very satisfying. Gippal and Nooj killed the serpent creatures by decapitating them with knives, and I saw Nooj twist off a few heads with his machina hand, laughing as he did so. I don't think I'd ever heard him laugh before. The occasional snort or abrupt chuckle, yes, but an out-and-out laugh, his head thrown back in pleasure? No. It's a rich, musical sound, like the peal of a large bell, and it was utterly infectious. By the time we had killed all the fiends, we were all laughing, and we ran into the ocean together as much for the pure joy of being surrounded by water as to wash off the blood and ichor, splashing each other and wrestling in the surf. Nooj even whisked me into an embrace, in full view of the others, for the first time in my memory. For a moment I even thought he might kiss me. Then he dunked me in the waves instead, and I laughed even harder.
It was glorious.
Now the sun is setting. Our clothes are drying, and the campfire is burning merrily. The others have pitched their tents. Baralai is checking on the damaged -- he's taken on Dani as something of a personal project, so he's probably with him. I hope he's able to do something for the poor guy. Then he had better get some rest; he's been running himself ragged for days playing nursemaid to the entire camp. I help as much as I can, but I'm not a healer, so there's only so much I can do. I hope Gippal is taking care of him. I'm not sure where Gippal is, actually; hunting dinner, maybe. Nooj is sitting on the beach. There are no boulders here, but there are trees -- I never thought I would be so happy to see a tree -- so he's found a fallen log to rest on. A little while ago, I gave him the first dose of the seasickness remedy. He gagged on the capsule, complaining of its size. I couldn't help but laugh at him -- it's not that much bigger than the painkillers. He's probably just irritated at the idea of being dependent on them, and on me to hand them out; I've taken control of the supply, along with the pain capsules. I made him take one of those as well. His jaw was slightly clenched and his movements careful, both hints that he's starting to ache. Better to catch the pain early, before he ends up in agony like before. Overall, though, he still seems more content than I've ever seen him outside of our sleeping places. It seems a day of good clean battle did him good. I know it worked wonders for me.
I gathered a bunch of seaweed along with a few gull eggs, all for dinner. I thought about trying to catch some fish, too, but I don't have any of the right equipment. So I'm just sitting here, breathing in the cool salt air, listening to the splash of waves. Living all my life in Kilika and Luca meant that the ocean was always there, both the smell and the sound. It never occurred to me that I would miss it being in the background. But I really did. The desert was just too quiet. Yeah, whatever comes next, it will be a real relief to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Maybe the desert was driving us all a little mad -- the heat, the blinding sun, the sameness of the dunes. If we hadn't found that cave when we did, gotten that respite, I don't know that we'd have made it.
Time to carry the seaweed back to camp. This is way more than we can eat tonight. Way, way more. I bet these plants would make a more comfortable bed than sand does. I wonder if Nooj will help me test that theory?
I suspect that he will.