197S9.9.27

I'll stay as far as the Travel Agency; it seems the plan is to separate once we get there, anyway, so I won't have to worry about hiding my intentions.

I just hope that we all manage to make the path to the Agency.

Everyone seems so worn--both in body and in spirit--and it worries me deeply. Is this the same group who came victorious through the sands of Bikanel? That group seems dead and in their place we stand, careworn and half-dead on our feet. It pains me to see this, to see the stress on these faces so dear to me, but I suppose it won't be a worry for too much longer.

It still hurts so much to think on it. I try to tell myself that I'm resigned to the idea that we must now separate from each other, but, everytime I think on how it will be, I find a fresh swelling of pain, as if I'm tearing out sutures too fresh to have healed. We had promised that we'd be together! We promised! What happened to that? What happened to swearing to unite under Nooj's banner and giving our fealty to him alone? What happened to all the promises and oaths we swore along the way?

...I suppose they, too, died in that cave.

It's so childish, but I want that back. Even if it comes with the pain of struggling through the darker depths of the Farplane, I want to again taste the pleasure of something I never before had. I don't want to give up the things which I'd been denied so long.

...I'm being foolish, childish.

I'm eighteen. I'm an adult. I must put away the vestiges of childhood and walk as a man. If it means setting aside such things as companionship, love, family, what of it? These are small things and there are greater tasks before me.

There is no place for love in revolution.

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I don't understand Gippal.

Even after all that happened, he claims that he forgives me and that he knows it wasn't my fault...and he's being completely sincere about it; I can see as much in his eye. He still lays with me and takes me. He still smiles at me and tries to cheer me. He still works himself to the bone trying to save me.

Why?

Doesn't he see what happened? Doesn't he know that it could happen again? Isn't he afraid? Isn't he wary?

...he seems not to be. He seems to have all the faith, all the affection in the world for me...and I can't understand it.

I love him so much. I need him so much, but...I'm so afraid. I don't know what would happen, what I would do if I ever hurt him, and the simple thought of it is enough to reduce me to tears. It's so easy to place the blame on whatever was in that cave, but should not personal responsibility stand?

...I want to blame them, the priests, the Maesters, Yevon itself. I want to think that it's nothing more than Yevon pulling away from me the family--the father and the older sister--and the lover I always needed but could never have. I want to believe that it is no more than the further upheaval of everything I ever thought I knew, but...would it be right?

I just don't know.

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I've...never experienced anything such as that.

Gippal was so gentle, so loving. His touch drew out so much and the expression in his eye when he glanced to me was enough to still my fears. It...I have no words for it. It was not sex--or even the rougher fucking, to use the vulgar--it was...love. That is all that can be said of it. It was an act of love, of compassion, of sharing. In that moment, in those high grasses, we shared something more than ever before; we truly shared and joined ourselves, even more truly and more deeply than the blood we mixed within the blade of the chrysknife. I cannot explain it, but it was enough to still those fears and quiet the doubts which had haunted me ever since we entered that damnable cave. In his arms and in his eye, I found and saw the truth. In him, I found strength.

...I...I cried a bit afterward. My face to his shoulder, I let the tears drain from my eyes, but it was far different from the last time I cried after laying with him. These tears were not of shame nor of guilt; these were tears of joy, of gratitude, of love, of relief. I let these fall on Gippal as kissed his brow, his eye, his eyepatch, his mouth, every single feature I could reach with my lips and the tears washed him as baptismal waters.

I...can trust him. I can trust myself. It will be alright. I don't have to leave him and, though we must part with Paine and Nooj, we will all meet again, on this road. We are bound, we four. We have great paths ahead of us and, though they are rough, they will always lead us back to each other.

We are bound.

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We're going to have to say goodbye, soon.

Nooj decided to give us a bit of time to rest before we part ways, but the time is growing late and I know that, soon enough, we'll all be standing together for the last time.

How do you say goodbye to the people who have become as your family? How do you thank them for all they've given you?

I...don't have answers for that. I don't know how to show my appreciation to them.

I don't know if I can ever thank Nooj for shaping me into the semblance of a man, for giving me the strength, the poise, and the confidence I may never have known had I not had the fortune to meet him. I have already sworn my allegiance and my fealty to him, but I would also offer my faith and my love; he is more a father to me than the man who helped to bear me and he holds far more esteem in my life than any man I've ever known. I would be honored if he would allow me to serve under him and perhaps the day will come when that will happen.

I don't know if I can ever thank Paine for being such a source of comfort and understanding. She was the first of the three to whom I bonded and I still feel so close to her. She taught me so much and, in turn, I like to think that I was able to teach her, a little. She's given me such support and such quiet security...I cannot repay any of it, so I'll only hope that she and Nooj find their happiness in each other and that they find time to enjoy the quiet pleasure of each other without interruption.

...and Gippal.

Gippal...how do you thank the man who gave you yourself? How do you thank a man who supported you and had faith even when your own wavered? I'll never have enough words to thank him, no matter how many tongues I may learn. I'll never have enough to repay him all he's done. All I can do is give him myself and my complete...

...what is that on the...

...shooting star.

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This is the last written page of this journal.