Blue Chapter 4
“Hello Wakka,” said Baralai, sitting down at a table in the little pub known as The Drop near the temple in Bevelle. “You wanted to see me?”
Wakka nodded, putting his elbows on the table. “You know, even though the others may not believe you about the whole thing, I do.”
Baralai smiled, mimicking Wakka’s pose. “I’m happy that I have your support.” He motioned to the bartender, who appeared to be the only staff on duty that day. “How are things going with the kids on Besaid?”
“They’re good, they’re good!” Wakka looked up as the bartender, a dark haired Spiran woman in a white dress, came to take their orders. It was lunchtime in Bevelle, and the two men ordered a bowl each of the pub’s supposedly famous soup. “The kids really like the new form of the Teachings. They don’t even know they’re learning, ya?”
Baralai couldn’t suppress his grin. “I am happy to hear this,” he said simply. “We worked so hard on them when you came to me with the idea - what, has it been a year already?”
“Something like that,” Wakka answered, matching Baralai’s grin. “In the beginning it was just me with a few of the kids, but now it’s practically the whole island. Everybody has classes about something. It’s a regular school, just like before, ya?”
“That’s really excellent to hear.” Baralai smiled at the bartender who brought them their soup, and took a taste of the broth. The food was hearty and enjoyable, as always.
“One of the new guys from New Yevon was out last week,” Wakka said after taking large swallows of his own soup. “I really like the new system that you guys have set up, but couldn’t they find some other way to travel?”
Baralai raised his eyebrow - a mannerism, he knew, that he had picked up from Gippal. They shared more than just a bed. “Why do you say that?”
“Oh, the airship stirs up all the sand and gets the fiends all excited,” Wakka explained, gesturing with his free hand. “That and the Yevon priests always complain about the airfare.”
Baralai had to laugh at this. It seemed like it wasn’t just Rin and his erys hearing the complaints of his underlings. “I talked with Rin about the fare just yesterday,” he said simply. “We’re working something out. I am not certain what can be done about the fiends, but perhaps the clergy will stop complaining so much.”
Wakka appeared to be somewhat surprised. “Oh, I guess the Al Bhed are good for something, ya?” he teased.
“Well,” Baralai said, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t resist making a little jab at Gippal - even when he wasn’t there to defend himself… or maybe especially because he wasn’t there to defend himself. “Sometimes I wonder…”
Wakka laughed loudly - enough to make Baralai shy away slightly and look around to make sure no one was staring. “No, they are great blitzers, at least.”
Here, Baralai sensed an opening -- perhaps Wakka knew more about Gippal’s mother. “Oh really?”
“Yeah, the Psyches are always in the championship game.” Wakka was finished with his soup, even though Baralai was hardly halfway done.
“Really?” Baralai feigned surprise, even though he was quite familiar with the game. Gippal was a fan, and as Praetor of New Yevon, Baralai himself was forced to preside over a few games as some sort of publicity stunt. “Who’s the best Psych who ever played?”
Wakka looked off to the side for a moment, obviously considering his answer. Baralai took the opportunity to catch up with him soup-wise. Finally, Wakka said, “I never knew her really, but her name was Aisso.”
Baralai couldn’t believe his luck. “Aisso? I think I’ve heard of her.”
Wakka nodded. “She wasn’t a star, you know? But she was good - a leader. Basically, she’s the one who got the team so good, ya? But there were all these rumors that she was going around with one of the Aurochs and she got all mad and left the game.”
“Really,” Baralai replied. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t thought to ask Wakka about Aisso - even after Rin had mentioned that she had been a blitzer. “That’s a very intriguing story. Were the rumors true?”
Wakka shrugged. “I don’t know. I wasn’t around then, ya? I was just a little kid.” He looked back and forth and then leaned in to speak more privately to Baralai, lowering his voice, “But I heard that one of the Aurochs did leave the team at the same time, guy by the name of Taru. The team never heard from him again.”
Baralai nodded, but as he did so, movement across the room caught his eye. He looked over to see two small children standing near the doorway, huddled together and staring at them. “Wakka, look,” Baralai said, nodding toward the children.
Wakka looked over and a grin spread across his face. “Think they want to hear a story?”
Baralai mimicked his smile - it was hard to resist. “You have quite the reputation, my friend.” He turned his smile to the children. “I’ve heard some of the young ones in Bevelle talking about the Besaid Bard.”
“That’s a silly name,” Wakka informed him, “and I hope you didn’t come up with it.”
Baralai was suddenly thankful that he had not, in fact, come up with the name. It did sound kind of silly.
Leaving his soup still unfinished, Baralai stood and went to the children. He crouched before them - the oldest of the pair of boys could not have been more than seven years old - and put on his gentlest smile. “Hello boys,” he said, keeping his voice low and secretive. “My friend Wakka was telling me that he has a new story and he wishes that he had someone to listen to it.” He looked at the young one, who was perhaps five years old. “I told him I would try to find some great listeners for him. Do you two think you’re up for it?”
The two young boys were both obviously frightened of Baralai - and Baralai couldn’t blame them. He knew he was a tall, strong, imposing figure, especially to a young child, and the long green robe didn’t help. For that matter, his status and reputation didn’t help much either.
Even in the face of their intimidation, the older one did nod enthusiastically.
Baralai realized from their reactions just then that Wakka really was getting very popular. Aside from being one of the now-infamous Last Guardians, he was also gaining recognition as a wonderful storyteller and teacher - and Baralai saw evidence of this right before his eyes.
The two boys went over to Wakka, who was now seated on the hearth by the unlit fireplace (which was, instead, lit by blue globes powered by Farplane energy). They sat down on the floor and looked up at him. Baralai found a chair and sat nearby to listen.
“What are your names?” Wakka asked them, his voice taking an entirely different tone than the one he had used to talk to Baralai.
“Ari,” said the older.
“Kavi,” said the younger.
“Ari and Kavi,” said Wakka, saying the names like he was proud to have them, “I am Wakka, and I have a new story to tell you two.”
It was one of the standard practices of those presenting the New Teachings to introduce each story like it was new to the teller. This made the listeners more intent, and encouraged them to think critically about the story.
“Now,” Wakka was saying, and when Baralai looked over, he noticed that Wakka was still holding his soup spoon in one hand. “You two have to tell me how I do, ya? So I can take your advice when I go back home to tell the story to my students. Okay?” He seemed to be playing up his island accent for the children, who were watching and listening intently.
“Okay!” the boys chirped in unison.
“Praetor Baralai told me this story today,” Wakka said next. Baralai noted that even Wakka adhered to a custom that Baralai was uncomfortable with - many priests and storytellers attributed the individual stories of the New Teachings to Baralai himself, as if he were a repository for ancient wisdom. “It’s about a boy about your age, Ari, who was a slave long ago in Ancient Macalania. His name was Ando, and his master was terrible and cruel. One day, Ando escaped from his master and fled into the forest, where he got horribly lost.”
Baralai watched, fascinated, as Wakka’s face conveyed the emotions of the characters of his story. “Ando was afraid because he didn’t know his way around the forest.” Wakka’s eyes grew big and he looked around the pub as if he were in the thick woods of Ancient Macalania. He gripped his soup spoon with both hands like it was a weapon. “And when he turned a corner, suddenly he heard a loud ROAR!” Wakka’s shout rang through the pub, and even the adults trying to eat in peace looked over at him. This time, Baralai approved of Wakka’s loud voice.
Wakka lowered his voice. “There, in a little thicket, was a big, scary, coerl! It had its teeth bared,” he showed his teeth to the children, “and its ears up,” he raised his eyebrows, “ready to attack!” Then, Wakka’s face changed, and he put one hand over his heart as he said, “Ando thought the coerl was going to eat him! He tried to run away, but he was too scared to move, ya? He could only watch as the coerl reached out its paw at him, and he thought for sure that he would be scratched up terribly!”
The children edged forward, eyes on Wakka intently. Even the adults in the pub had all turned around, entranced by Wakka’s story and his animated voice. Baralai had to admit that he even found himself captivated.
“But then,” Wakka said, his right hand extended out in the air, the spoon between two of his fingers, “Ando noticed that the coerl wasn’t going to swat at him, but instead, it was showing him its paw!” He showed his hand - and the protruding spoon handle - to the children. “There was a huge thorn stuck in one of its fingers!”
Young Kavi gasped and pointed at the spoon in Wakka’s fingers.
“Exactly,” said Wakka, bending his neck to look at the spoon. “The coerl wasn’t roaring at him - it was crying, ya? It had roared because it was scared and hurting. So Ando carefully reached up and used his fingers - which the coerl didn’t have - to pull out the thorn.” Wakka used his other hand to remove the spoon from between his fingers. “And then, Ando ripped off a bit of his shirt and tied it around the coerl’s paw so it would stop bleeding.”
Baralai smiled as he watched the older boy, Ari, look at his own shirt and then his hand, as if getting an idea from Wakka’s story.
“But not a few minutes later,” Wakka continued, putting his hands back down on his knees, “Ando’s master jumped out of the bushes and surprised them! He was so mad that Ando, his slave, had escaped - so he captured Ando and the coerl and took them both back to his house. To punish Ando for escaping, the master thought that he would throw him and the coerl into a pit and make them fight so Ando would get hurt and learn his lesson.”
He stayed silent for a moment while the kids thought about the situation. Once they both looked back up at him, Wakka continued, “So two days later, the master did just that. He threw Ando into the pit, along with the coerl. What do you think happened?”
“Did… did the coerl eat him?” asked Kavi.
“No!” interrupted Ari. “No, I bet the coerl remembered him!”
Wakka grinned broadly. “At first, the coerl was going to eat him! It thought that Ando was just any other human. It growled and charged right at Ando - but then…” Wakka stopped and put his hands up in front of him. “When the coerl got this close, suddenly it stopped! It remembered Ando’s face - as the boy who had pulled the thorn from its paw, ya? And so, wanting to help Ando for helping him, the coerl instead let Ando climb on its back, and together they jumped out of the big pit. The evil master was so scared of the coerl eating him that he ran away, and Ando and his new friend the coerl escaped and went free!”
Little Kavi clapped and bounced. “Yay Ando!” he said loudly.
“Yay Ando indeed,” Wakka repeated. “And so, what we learn from this is that no act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.”
“And,” said Ari, “If you do something nice for someone, they’ll do something nice back.”
Wakka looked impressed. “That’s a great idea, Ari,” he said, looking over at Baralai and nodding. “I’ll have to add that one in too.”
“And even coerls can be nice,” added Kavi, nodding wisely.
“But you should still be careful and not provoke coerls in the wild,” Baralai said from nearby. “Because they can still be mean and hurt you.”
The kids looked at each other with a measure of concern, but eventually stood up off the floor and bowed before Wakka - it made Baralai happy to see the Yevon Prayer Bow still in use, even in such a changed world.
Once the children had gone back to their parents, Baralai approached Wakka. “An excellent story, my friend,” he commended, sitting down next to him on the hearth. “I enjoyed your use of props.”
Wakka looked down at the spoon, still in his hands. “What, this?” He laughed, shining the back of the spoon with his thumb. “We have to make do with what we have, ya?”
“Certainly.” Baralai grinned, taking the spoon from Wakka and examining it. “That was the story we came up with right here, at this place, wasn’t it?”
“Sure was,” Wakka agreed. “You, me, and Gippal, sitting around and asking everyone to tell us stories from their childhood.”
Baralai laughed, remembering that particular night. After a few faithful Yevonites - including Wakka - had come to him with the idea of transforming the old Teachings into a new sort of school for moral behavior, they had spent many long hours coming up with ways to put the lessons of the old, dry books of Yevon into stories that could be useful for teaching children. Gippal had agreed to help - and that was during the early days of their relationship, Baralai remembered fondly, when Gippal was still trying to prove himself worthy of Baralai’s continued attention. He made himself indispensable so Baralai couldn’t get rid of him.
To think that everyone said that Baralai was the manipulative one…
“I didn’t think the Teachings would get this popular with children back in the beginning of this project,” Baralai admitted, then bit his lower lip. He had been trying to think of ways to expand the school and make it more standardized - and Wakka could probably help with that. “Once Vidina’s a little bit older, it might be nice if you’d come to Bevelle and help the new teachers.” He looked over at Wakka. “If you have the time, that is.”
Wakka nodded, seemingly without even considering it. “I would do that, if I have time between the Blitz seasons. I’m getting back into coaching now.”
“I think you’d be a fine coach,” Baralai agreed. “Of blitzers, or of people.”
“Well, we have to take care of this zombie problem first, ya?” Wakka looked out the door into the peaceful Bevelle streets - which were only that way because so many people had worked hard to eradicate the fiends the day before.
“Hopefully the others will be able to clean out the rest of them today,” Baralai said. “Gippal, Tidus, and Lulu went toward Macalania while Yuna and Kimahri are scouting the area around Bevelle. I haven’t heard anything from the guards in the city, so it seems that the situation is improving.”
“I should go check on Lu,” Wakka said, taking the spoon back from Baralai. “Make sure she’s okay and those boys haven’t gotten her killed.”
“I told Gippal to take care of her,” Baralai said simply.
“But putting Gippal and Tidus together usually doesn’t end up too well.” Wakka laughed.
The thought of Gippal and Tidus together made Baralai feel slightly ill; he didn’t want to show this, so he joined Wakka’s laughter to cover up his discomfort. He knew how Gippal and Tidus tended to roughhouse and goof around with each other - which was all the more distressing to Baralai himself, since Tidus’s very presence irritated him on the best of days. It was like seeing his lover be friendly with Baralai’s ultimate personal enemy - and even if Baralai consciously knew that Shuyin and Tidus were in no way related, it still didn’t make the resemblance any less disturbing.
Somehow, he had learned to be able to laugh about it. It was probably a conditioned reaction brought on by innumerable punches to the shoulder from Gippal.
“Well,” Baralai said, “if you do go out there, be careful.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll make sure your erys doesn’t get eaten,” Wakka promised. “I still can’t believe you two are together.”
Baralai had to smile. Though he was a great teacher, Baralai knew that Wakka had never been known for his stunning powers of observation. “Sometimes, I can’t believe it either,” he confessed.
Wakka stared at him, then grinned and shoved Baralai’s shoulder. “Maybe I should let him get eaten?” he suggested playfully.
“No,” Baralai said, shaking his head as he found himself succumbing to Wakka’s playfulness. “He would never let the world forget it.”
--X--
Baralai had found that his headache had abated a little during his afternoon chat with Wakka, but it seemed to only redouble as soon as he returned to his office. Barely had the door closed behind him when he found himself accosted by two of his priests - and, indeed, they were his priests.
When he had first come back to Yevon, Baralai had a made a point to disassociate himself from the religion - he knew the damage which Yevon had caused him initially, and he did not wish to have it happen again. Only after working with Yevon - working at changing Yevon - for many years did he finally feel that he again fit comfortably within the organization - and that was mostly due to the fact that he had put so much of himself into the evolution of Yevon. He had overseen the change of the religion from a group which functioned on superstitious fear to an organization which worked through a true desire to create a better world - for all the races of Spira. This fact still made him proud and he felt that same pride when he looked upon the two priests before him.
This pride made it all the harder for him to face the issues of the meeting.
The two priests, Jassu and Nan, had come to the end of their voluntary period and they were looking to be released from their service. Normally, this would require a minimum of paperwork, but these two had been with him for quite a long while - Baralai found it harder than necessary to say goodbye to them and he truly felt sorrow when he watched the two men walk out of his office for the last time.
To help ease this sorrow - as well as to help his suddenly intensified headache - Baralai had chosen to take a bath - but he had barely gotten into the steamy water when he heard a knock at the door. Hurriedly, he donned a dark blue robe and then he rushed to answer the door - only to find Herme, the senior acolyte of Macalania Temple, in a serious panic.
The fair young man was clearly breathless and sweaty from his long run to the capital and Baralai insisted that Herme sit and take some refreshment before telling his tale. Only after Herme had drunk a few glasses of cool water did Baralai agree to listen to the message at hand - and he found that it carried no unexpected news.
“Strange fiends are attacking the temple at Macalania,” Herme said as he fidgeted nervously in the chair. “They were all strange, blue-grey skinned fiends - and one of them seemed particularly intelligent. He was larger than most of the others and he had this strange scar over his right eye.” Herme lifted a hand, tracing a fingertip over his own corresponding eye. “Most of the priests were trying to fight them when I left, but they really weren’t doing so well.”
Baralai nodded grimly to this news, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised. He had known that the threat of the fiends - the zombies, as some were calling them - was growing; it was because of this that Tidus, Gippal, and Lulu had chosen to venture out in hopes of being able to exterminate the threat before the fiends could attack Bevelle.
“Yeah, you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
Baralai had been too involved in his own thoughts to hear the door open, but there was no way he could mistake the owner of the tired-sounding voice - nor could he fail to recognize the slightly battered body suddenly slumped in the third chair of the group.
Baralai watched Gippal with concern - noting the dark bruising on his cheek and the deep gash torn through both his typical purple shirt and the skin of his shoulder - but he was relieved to see that Gippal’s good humor seemed to be intact.
“The fight at Macalania is over already?” Herme asked.
“It didn’t take much,” Gippal replied, either not bothering or simply too tired to lift his head from its position against the headrest. “Most of the zombies went down without a fight and the one that didn’t - well, that was a problem all its own.”
Herme blinked. “There was a problem?”
“You don’t have to worry about it.” Gippal shook his head slightly, his eye lolling closed. “We took care of it.”
Something about Gippal’s words alerted Baralai that there was more to the story than Gippal was currently telling and he was eager to know exactly what had occurred during the fight for Macalania. Seeing no other recourse, Baralai chose to deftly use his learned skills to quickly earn himself and Gippal a little alone time. “Herme, please wait outside while I address Gippal’s wounds.”
Herme nodded and stepped outside of the door into the hallway - a place where Baralai’s visitors were accustomed to waiting - and Baralai turned to Gippal. “Are you alright?” he asked. He looked at the wound on Gippal’s shoulder, right below the plate of armor, and began to pick the shreds of cloth out of it.
Gippal swatted his hand away. “I’m okay, stop it.”
Baralai pulled back, concerned. “You have an open wound, Gippal, and it’s not wise to-“
“I don’t care,” Gippal replied, slouching in the chair. He looked exhausted and irritated.
“I can’t believe that - did something else happen out there?”
“We had to fight Sir Auron, or did you miss that part?” The tone of Gippal’s voice wasn’t angry, precisely, but Baralai couldn’t put a label on what it was. He seemed bitter, perhaps disturbed about the event.
However, a legendary guardian - and Auron, one who had remained unsent for many years - being turned into one of the zombies indicated that the problem was worse than they thought.
“I’m sorry,” Baralai said simply. He had no idea what else to say. He knew that Auron had been important to Gippal, even if the details remained vague regarding why that was so.
“Yeah? You don’t know the half of it.” Gippal turned in the chair and faced away from Baralai, staring out the window. “You should have seen Lulu. And Tidus. And even Wakka, when he got there at the end.”
Baralai stayed silent. Gippal really was upset about the whole encounter - and Baralai could sympathize. Just like the coerl in Wakka’s story earlier that afternoon, Gippal wasn’t roaring because he was angry, but because he was hurting. It was only a short time ago that he had been feeling similarly about his accidental killing of Lord Braska. If only helping Gippal would be as easy as removing a thorn from his paw - for now, all Baralai could do was give Gippal some time to himself. “Relax,” he said to Gippal. “I’ll go take care of the messenger.”
Baralai noticed that Gippal did not even look at him as he stood up and went to the door. Once outside in the hallway, he addressed Herme politely, but very firmly. “It seems as if the problem has been solved - for the moment. To ensure that there’s no future disaster, I will propose that the Youth League send some troops to Macalania and I’ll send some of the Bevellen guard to escort you back; does that sound satisfactory?”
Herme nodded. “I think it’ll be alright.” He paused for a moment, seeming to consider. “I’m sure I’ll be sent back, if anything else goes wrong.”
Wishing that the other man would leave already, Baralai placed a gentle hand on Herme’s back as he took a few steps with him down the hallway. “Let us hope that does not happen - though I do wish to know if any further assistance is needed.”
“Of course!” Herme answered, seeming rather eager to be on his way back to the temple.
Baralai took a few minutes to call the guard to escort Herme back to Macalania, hoping to give Gippal some time to rest and work himself through his irritated mood. He walked slowly back down the hallway and quietly opened the door to his chambers and stepped inside - only to find that Gippal was fast asleep in the armchair.
His back pressed to the hard wood of the door, Baralai watched Gippal sleep.
A deep pang of worry gnawed at the back of his mind; if Gippal was truly injured and exhausted, then it must be Baralai’s fault for sending him out to face such an impossible foe. If he hadn’t sent him, then he wouldn’t have encountered Auron, and he wouldn’t have been so disturbed by the state of one of his heroes. Baralai should have known better than to do this; he should have cared enough to find some other way to fix things. Surely, Baralai should be more careful of the man who had been beside him so long - the one he was considering to someday be his erys. He was just considering the varied ways in which he might apologize when his attention shifted to a sudden movement from Gippal
Gippal’s limbs had been cramped inside the arms of the chair, but now he seemed to be determined to prove that no chair could keep him confined.
It took Gippal a simple upward movement to uproot his arms from where they had been wedged in by his legs. His newly freed arms slumped over the side of the chair, his limp fingertips just brushing the very top of the plush white carpet. His legs spread wide and his booted feet dug themselves a little deeper into the rug as his head lolled against his chest. Now that he was seemingly comfortable, Gippal drifted back to a deep sleep and Baralai, who had been watching the entire production, found himself smiling - sometimes it really only took the smallest thing to remind him of Gippal’s tendency to break boundaries.
His guilty thoughts momentarily alleviated (because just as Gippal would force the chair to bend to his will, so would he have forced Baralai to let him go on this mission anyway) Baralai allowed a fond smile to cross his face as he moved to sit on the arm of Gippal’s chair - but only after moving Gippal’s arm to a safe position. It just happened that this safe position was along Baralai’s thigh with his hand resting on Baralai’s knee - but that was clearly just a coincidence.
Baralai soon fell into contemplation of the composure of Gippal’s body - this always seemed to happen whenever Baralai had a chance to silently watch his lover at rest and Baralai never seemed to grow tired of observing the smooth interaction of skin and muscle, the long lean limbs, the strong and talented hands, the gentle rise and fall of Gippal’s chest; it tended to mesmerize him, but Baralai was entirely unaware of this side-effect - until he felt a hand sliding further up his thigh toward his crotch.
“You do realize that you’re about a second away from exposing me to whoever happens to look in that window?” Baralai asked of the clearly now-awake Gippal.
“It’s your own fault,” Gippal responded with a sleepy sort of slyness. “Do you always wear tiny robes to all your business meetings?”
Baralai laughed shortly as he firmly pulled the fabric of the robe more fully over himself. He was glad to hear that the irritation in Gippal’s voice had dissipated, even just a small amount. “Only for those lucky enough to catch me mid-bath.”
“What about for those who catch you in bed?”
Baralai tipped his head and he took longer than strictly necessary in considering that. “Well, there is one way for you to find out.”
“What’s that?” Gippal asked, seeming to perk up a little at the prospect.
“Like this,” Baralai answered simply as he rose to his feet and hoisted Gippal over his shoulders. He could hear rather amused protests coming from Gippal at being picked up and carried, but Baralai chose to ignore them as he carried Gippal into the bedroom.
“So, what was that all about?” Gippal asked, his voice a touch muffled due to the fact that Baralai had set him face-down on the mattress. “Trying to prove that you aren’t really a little weakling?”
“Something like that,” Baralai answered vaguely. Really, he thought it was more like making sure an act of kindness didn’t go to waste.
Standing at the foot of the bed, Baralai felt a fresh breeze come in through the open window. He knelt on the bed and straddled Gippal’s hips. “Not tonight, cfaadraynd, I have a headache,” Gippal murmured sleepily, but his head was turned enough so that Baralai could easily see the grin at his lips.
“Would this help your headache?” Baralai asked all too innocently as he slid his hands up the back of Gippal’s shirt. Palms down, he felt each major group of muscles, his fingers working against the tighter, knotted areas as he worked his way up toward Gippal’s shoulders. He massaged slowly, mindful only of the tight muscles and the occasional pleased groan from Gippal, and he even slipped a light Esuna through his fingertips - he had found that it worked wonders as a relaxant and also that it tended to simply make one feel rather good, physically, even if they held no ailment.
Baralai had been so intent on this small massage that he had missed the quiet snores coming from Gippal and it was only when Gippal snored loudly enough to semi-rouse himself that Baralai realized that his attempt had been successful; he had put Gippal to sleep.
--X--
Several hours later, in the darkest hour of the night, Baralai heard a rustling sound.
His heart immediately skipped a beat and his blood raced - someone was in his room. He could hear the shuffling of footsteps across his carpet, coming closer to the bed and then backing away.
Baralai felt his body tensing, especially since his arm was trapped under the torso of the heaviest sleeper of the whole Al Bhed race. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open. He could see the shadows moving on the ceiling above him.
He moved his free arm to the side of the bed - what was there? Sleepily, he moved his fingers across the small table as silently as he could. Why didn’t he keep his bo by the bed anymore? He had gotten out of the habit ever since Gippal had decided to-
His fingers came across something glass, and slowly his sleep-riddled brain came to the conclusion of what it was - the vessel that he used to keep his and Gippal’s sexual lubricant. It was a fine piece of art, dark green frosted glass in a gentle curve -- with a glass stopper to match, even if it was currently out and lying next to the bottle on the table.
Somewhere, perhaps in the drawer of the table underneath, was the note from Rin and his erys that said, in Al Bhed, To Gippal, A man in your position needs to be discreet. Best, Rin and Rederi. Somewhere near that note was another one, in Gippal’s handwriting, that said, Lai, I have no idea what this means, you figure it out. Gippal
Gippal had never been one for discreetness, but Baralai had known exactly what the bottle with its wide neck was for. Ostensibly it was a table decoration, and no one had to know that the unspeakable relationship assistant was inside.
Baralai realized that he had almost drifted off to sleep again, forgetting about the intruder. A rather loud rustling brought his earlier fears back to the front of his thoughts and, glass bottle be damned, he closed his hand around his improvised weapon and sat up quickly, ready to throw it.
It was just the curtains.
They had left the window open, and a wind had apparently picked up in Bevelle, creating the rustling sound in the drapes. Baralai exhaled and lowered his glass bottle, thankful that he didn’t need to use it as a weapon - that would have been rather messy.
“Mmrr, ready for another round, Praetor?” came a sleepy voice from the bed next to him.
Baralai turned slightly to look at Gippal, who was still lying on his stomach. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that in bed,” he said, even though he realized that Gippal was probably still asleep.
“What’re you gonna do about it?” asked the sleepy voice again.
Baralai smiled and put the bottle back on the table, replacing the stopper that they had forgotten in their impromptu midnight romp earlier that night. “I’ll call you by your title in bed,” he threatened.
Baralai couldn’t quite make out Gippal’s next words, but he thought he said, “I don’t have one.”
It was true - Baralai was Praetor, Nooj was Meyvn, but Gippal was just Gippal. Baralai wondered if Gippal did that on purpose as he lay back down next to Gippal, turning on his side so he could wrap his arm around his lover. “If that’s the case, I’ll just call you Nonspecific One-Eyed Al Bhed.”
He thought he heard Gippal chuckle, but it could have been a quiet snore. Baralai was never quite sure in moments like these if Gippal was actually awake or if he was just sleeptalking.
He watched Gippal sleep, his bare back slowly rising and falling with each breath, and Baralai thought again about just how improbable it was that they would be together like this. He recalled when they’d first met - how he had been almost afraid of the strange heathen in his squad, and how they had slowly developed trust with each other. That trust had turned into a deep friendship and eventually into a brief fling. Never, in those early days, had Baralai thought he would end up in a position like this.
He never thought that he would be lying here, watching Gippal sleep, unable to keep a smile off his face as he did so. He never thought he would have the opportunity to watch the lay of the shadows across Gippal’s back, running parallel with a few criss-crossing scars over his spine.
He never thought that he would have ever contemplated a future that included Gippal.
But here they were, sharing a bed in the Temple of Yevon in Bevelle. Not only were they sharing a bed, but also - Baralai knew - they were in love. It wasn’t something he thought about very often, and even more rarely was it voiced with actual words, but they weren’t together just for the sex anymore. They weren’t friends with benefits. They weren’t two lonely men shunned by the women of their choice.
They were in love. It was hard for Baralai to know that, but one night - remarkably like this one, in fact - Gippal had murmured a few short sentences that made Baralai’s heart and mind rush into a frenzy. Just as this night, Baralai wasn’t certain if Gippal was serious or simply talking in his sleep, but the fact that those words could make Baralai react in such a way had been more telling than the supposed existence of the words themselves.
Baralai had never asked Gippal if he meant it - or even if he remembered it. He didn’t want to know.
It was enough for Baralai to have moments like this, where he could wrap his arms around Gippal’s waist and just listen -- and know that this was all for him.
Next Chapter
Wakka nodded, putting his elbows on the table. “You know, even though the others may not believe you about the whole thing, I do.”
Baralai smiled, mimicking Wakka’s pose. “I’m happy that I have your support.” He motioned to the bartender, who appeared to be the only staff on duty that day. “How are things going with the kids on Besaid?”
“They’re good, they’re good!” Wakka looked up as the bartender, a dark haired Spiran woman in a white dress, came to take their orders. It was lunchtime in Bevelle, and the two men ordered a bowl each of the pub’s supposedly famous soup. “The kids really like the new form of the Teachings. They don’t even know they’re learning, ya?”
Baralai couldn’t suppress his grin. “I am happy to hear this,” he said simply. “We worked so hard on them when you came to me with the idea - what, has it been a year already?”
“Something like that,” Wakka answered, matching Baralai’s grin. “In the beginning it was just me with a few of the kids, but now it’s practically the whole island. Everybody has classes about something. It’s a regular school, just like before, ya?”
“That’s really excellent to hear.” Baralai smiled at the bartender who brought them their soup, and took a taste of the broth. The food was hearty and enjoyable, as always.
“One of the new guys from New Yevon was out last week,” Wakka said after taking large swallows of his own soup. “I really like the new system that you guys have set up, but couldn’t they find some other way to travel?”
Baralai raised his eyebrow - a mannerism, he knew, that he had picked up from Gippal. They shared more than just a bed. “Why do you say that?”
“Oh, the airship stirs up all the sand and gets the fiends all excited,” Wakka explained, gesturing with his free hand. “That and the Yevon priests always complain about the airfare.”
Baralai had to laugh at this. It seemed like it wasn’t just Rin and his erys hearing the complaints of his underlings. “I talked with Rin about the fare just yesterday,” he said simply. “We’re working something out. I am not certain what can be done about the fiends, but perhaps the clergy will stop complaining so much.”
Wakka appeared to be somewhat surprised. “Oh, I guess the Al Bhed are good for something, ya?” he teased.
“Well,” Baralai said, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t resist making a little jab at Gippal - even when he wasn’t there to defend himself… or maybe especially because he wasn’t there to defend himself. “Sometimes I wonder…”
Wakka laughed loudly - enough to make Baralai shy away slightly and look around to make sure no one was staring. “No, they are great blitzers, at least.”
Here, Baralai sensed an opening -- perhaps Wakka knew more about Gippal’s mother. “Oh really?”
“Yeah, the Psyches are always in the championship game.” Wakka was finished with his soup, even though Baralai was hardly halfway done.
“Really?” Baralai feigned surprise, even though he was quite familiar with the game. Gippal was a fan, and as Praetor of New Yevon, Baralai himself was forced to preside over a few games as some sort of publicity stunt. “Who’s the best Psych who ever played?”
Wakka looked off to the side for a moment, obviously considering his answer. Baralai took the opportunity to catch up with him soup-wise. Finally, Wakka said, “I never knew her really, but her name was Aisso.”
Baralai couldn’t believe his luck. “Aisso? I think I’ve heard of her.”
Wakka nodded. “She wasn’t a star, you know? But she was good - a leader. Basically, she’s the one who got the team so good, ya? But there were all these rumors that she was going around with one of the Aurochs and she got all mad and left the game.”
“Really,” Baralai replied. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t thought to ask Wakka about Aisso - even after Rin had mentioned that she had been a blitzer. “That’s a very intriguing story. Were the rumors true?”
Wakka shrugged. “I don’t know. I wasn’t around then, ya? I was just a little kid.” He looked back and forth and then leaned in to speak more privately to Baralai, lowering his voice, “But I heard that one of the Aurochs did leave the team at the same time, guy by the name of Taru. The team never heard from him again.”
Baralai nodded, but as he did so, movement across the room caught his eye. He looked over to see two small children standing near the doorway, huddled together and staring at them. “Wakka, look,” Baralai said, nodding toward the children.
Wakka looked over and a grin spread across his face. “Think they want to hear a story?”
Baralai mimicked his smile - it was hard to resist. “You have quite the reputation, my friend.” He turned his smile to the children. “I’ve heard some of the young ones in Bevelle talking about the Besaid Bard.”
“That’s a silly name,” Wakka informed him, “and I hope you didn’t come up with it.”
Baralai was suddenly thankful that he had not, in fact, come up with the name. It did sound kind of silly.
Leaving his soup still unfinished, Baralai stood and went to the children. He crouched before them - the oldest of the pair of boys could not have been more than seven years old - and put on his gentlest smile. “Hello boys,” he said, keeping his voice low and secretive. “My friend Wakka was telling me that he has a new story and he wishes that he had someone to listen to it.” He looked at the young one, who was perhaps five years old. “I told him I would try to find some great listeners for him. Do you two think you’re up for it?”
The two young boys were both obviously frightened of Baralai - and Baralai couldn’t blame them. He knew he was a tall, strong, imposing figure, especially to a young child, and the long green robe didn’t help. For that matter, his status and reputation didn’t help much either.
Even in the face of their intimidation, the older one did nod enthusiastically.
Baralai realized from their reactions just then that Wakka really was getting very popular. Aside from being one of the now-infamous Last Guardians, he was also gaining recognition as a wonderful storyteller and teacher - and Baralai saw evidence of this right before his eyes.
The two boys went over to Wakka, who was now seated on the hearth by the unlit fireplace (which was, instead, lit by blue globes powered by Farplane energy). They sat down on the floor and looked up at him. Baralai found a chair and sat nearby to listen.
“What are your names?” Wakka asked them, his voice taking an entirely different tone than the one he had used to talk to Baralai.
“Ari,” said the older.
“Kavi,” said the younger.
“Ari and Kavi,” said Wakka, saying the names like he was proud to have them, “I am Wakka, and I have a new story to tell you two.”
It was one of the standard practices of those presenting the New Teachings to introduce each story like it was new to the teller. This made the listeners more intent, and encouraged them to think critically about the story.
“Now,” Wakka was saying, and when Baralai looked over, he noticed that Wakka was still holding his soup spoon in one hand. “You two have to tell me how I do, ya? So I can take your advice when I go back home to tell the story to my students. Okay?” He seemed to be playing up his island accent for the children, who were watching and listening intently.
“Okay!” the boys chirped in unison.
“Praetor Baralai told me this story today,” Wakka said next. Baralai noted that even Wakka adhered to a custom that Baralai was uncomfortable with - many priests and storytellers attributed the individual stories of the New Teachings to Baralai himself, as if he were a repository for ancient wisdom. “It’s about a boy about your age, Ari, who was a slave long ago in Ancient Macalania. His name was Ando, and his master was terrible and cruel. One day, Ando escaped from his master and fled into the forest, where he got horribly lost.”
Baralai watched, fascinated, as Wakka’s face conveyed the emotions of the characters of his story. “Ando was afraid because he didn’t know his way around the forest.” Wakka’s eyes grew big and he looked around the pub as if he were in the thick woods of Ancient Macalania. He gripped his soup spoon with both hands like it was a weapon. “And when he turned a corner, suddenly he heard a loud ROAR!” Wakka’s shout rang through the pub, and even the adults trying to eat in peace looked over at him. This time, Baralai approved of Wakka’s loud voice.
Wakka lowered his voice. “There, in a little thicket, was a big, scary, coerl! It had its teeth bared,” he showed his teeth to the children, “and its ears up,” he raised his eyebrows, “ready to attack!” Then, Wakka’s face changed, and he put one hand over his heart as he said, “Ando thought the coerl was going to eat him! He tried to run away, but he was too scared to move, ya? He could only watch as the coerl reached out its paw at him, and he thought for sure that he would be scratched up terribly!”
The children edged forward, eyes on Wakka intently. Even the adults in the pub had all turned around, entranced by Wakka’s story and his animated voice. Baralai had to admit that he even found himself captivated.
“But then,” Wakka said, his right hand extended out in the air, the spoon between two of his fingers, “Ando noticed that the coerl wasn’t going to swat at him, but instead, it was showing him its paw!” He showed his hand - and the protruding spoon handle - to the children. “There was a huge thorn stuck in one of its fingers!”
Young Kavi gasped and pointed at the spoon in Wakka’s fingers.
“Exactly,” said Wakka, bending his neck to look at the spoon. “The coerl wasn’t roaring at him - it was crying, ya? It had roared because it was scared and hurting. So Ando carefully reached up and used his fingers - which the coerl didn’t have - to pull out the thorn.” Wakka used his other hand to remove the spoon from between his fingers. “And then, Ando ripped off a bit of his shirt and tied it around the coerl’s paw so it would stop bleeding.”
Baralai smiled as he watched the older boy, Ari, look at his own shirt and then his hand, as if getting an idea from Wakka’s story.
“But not a few minutes later,” Wakka continued, putting his hands back down on his knees, “Ando’s master jumped out of the bushes and surprised them! He was so mad that Ando, his slave, had escaped - so he captured Ando and the coerl and took them both back to his house. To punish Ando for escaping, the master thought that he would throw him and the coerl into a pit and make them fight so Ando would get hurt and learn his lesson.”
He stayed silent for a moment while the kids thought about the situation. Once they both looked back up at him, Wakka continued, “So two days later, the master did just that. He threw Ando into the pit, along with the coerl. What do you think happened?”
“Did… did the coerl eat him?” asked Kavi.
“No!” interrupted Ari. “No, I bet the coerl remembered him!”
Wakka grinned broadly. “At first, the coerl was going to eat him! It thought that Ando was just any other human. It growled and charged right at Ando - but then…” Wakka stopped and put his hands up in front of him. “When the coerl got this close, suddenly it stopped! It remembered Ando’s face - as the boy who had pulled the thorn from its paw, ya? And so, wanting to help Ando for helping him, the coerl instead let Ando climb on its back, and together they jumped out of the big pit. The evil master was so scared of the coerl eating him that he ran away, and Ando and his new friend the coerl escaped and went free!”
Little Kavi clapped and bounced. “Yay Ando!” he said loudly.
“Yay Ando indeed,” Wakka repeated. “And so, what we learn from this is that no act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.”
“And,” said Ari, “If you do something nice for someone, they’ll do something nice back.”
Wakka looked impressed. “That’s a great idea, Ari,” he said, looking over at Baralai and nodding. “I’ll have to add that one in too.”
“And even coerls can be nice,” added Kavi, nodding wisely.
“But you should still be careful and not provoke coerls in the wild,” Baralai said from nearby. “Because they can still be mean and hurt you.”
The kids looked at each other with a measure of concern, but eventually stood up off the floor and bowed before Wakka - it made Baralai happy to see the Yevon Prayer Bow still in use, even in such a changed world.
Once the children had gone back to their parents, Baralai approached Wakka. “An excellent story, my friend,” he commended, sitting down next to him on the hearth. “I enjoyed your use of props.”
Wakka looked down at the spoon, still in his hands. “What, this?” He laughed, shining the back of the spoon with his thumb. “We have to make do with what we have, ya?”
“Certainly.” Baralai grinned, taking the spoon from Wakka and examining it. “That was the story we came up with right here, at this place, wasn’t it?”
“Sure was,” Wakka agreed. “You, me, and Gippal, sitting around and asking everyone to tell us stories from their childhood.”
Baralai laughed, remembering that particular night. After a few faithful Yevonites - including Wakka - had come to him with the idea of transforming the old Teachings into a new sort of school for moral behavior, they had spent many long hours coming up with ways to put the lessons of the old, dry books of Yevon into stories that could be useful for teaching children. Gippal had agreed to help - and that was during the early days of their relationship, Baralai remembered fondly, when Gippal was still trying to prove himself worthy of Baralai’s continued attention. He made himself indispensable so Baralai couldn’t get rid of him.
To think that everyone said that Baralai was the manipulative one…
“I didn’t think the Teachings would get this popular with children back in the beginning of this project,” Baralai admitted, then bit his lower lip. He had been trying to think of ways to expand the school and make it more standardized - and Wakka could probably help with that. “Once Vidina’s a little bit older, it might be nice if you’d come to Bevelle and help the new teachers.” He looked over at Wakka. “If you have the time, that is.”
Wakka nodded, seemingly without even considering it. “I would do that, if I have time between the Blitz seasons. I’m getting back into coaching now.”
“I think you’d be a fine coach,” Baralai agreed. “Of blitzers, or of people.”
“Well, we have to take care of this zombie problem first, ya?” Wakka looked out the door into the peaceful Bevelle streets - which were only that way because so many people had worked hard to eradicate the fiends the day before.
“Hopefully the others will be able to clean out the rest of them today,” Baralai said. “Gippal, Tidus, and Lulu went toward Macalania while Yuna and Kimahri are scouting the area around Bevelle. I haven’t heard anything from the guards in the city, so it seems that the situation is improving.”
“I should go check on Lu,” Wakka said, taking the spoon back from Baralai. “Make sure she’s okay and those boys haven’t gotten her killed.”
“I told Gippal to take care of her,” Baralai said simply.
“But putting Gippal and Tidus together usually doesn’t end up too well.” Wakka laughed.
The thought of Gippal and Tidus together made Baralai feel slightly ill; he didn’t want to show this, so he joined Wakka’s laughter to cover up his discomfort. He knew how Gippal and Tidus tended to roughhouse and goof around with each other - which was all the more distressing to Baralai himself, since Tidus’s very presence irritated him on the best of days. It was like seeing his lover be friendly with Baralai’s ultimate personal enemy - and even if Baralai consciously knew that Shuyin and Tidus were in no way related, it still didn’t make the resemblance any less disturbing.
Somehow, he had learned to be able to laugh about it. It was probably a conditioned reaction brought on by innumerable punches to the shoulder from Gippal.
“Well,” Baralai said, “if you do go out there, be careful.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll make sure your erys doesn’t get eaten,” Wakka promised. “I still can’t believe you two are together.”
Baralai had to smile. Though he was a great teacher, Baralai knew that Wakka had never been known for his stunning powers of observation. “Sometimes, I can’t believe it either,” he confessed.
Wakka stared at him, then grinned and shoved Baralai’s shoulder. “Maybe I should let him get eaten?” he suggested playfully.
“No,” Baralai said, shaking his head as he found himself succumbing to Wakka’s playfulness. “He would never let the world forget it.”
--X--
Baralai had found that his headache had abated a little during his afternoon chat with Wakka, but it seemed to only redouble as soon as he returned to his office. Barely had the door closed behind him when he found himself accosted by two of his priests - and, indeed, they were his priests.
When he had first come back to Yevon, Baralai had a made a point to disassociate himself from the religion - he knew the damage which Yevon had caused him initially, and he did not wish to have it happen again. Only after working with Yevon - working at changing Yevon - for many years did he finally feel that he again fit comfortably within the organization - and that was mostly due to the fact that he had put so much of himself into the evolution of Yevon. He had overseen the change of the religion from a group which functioned on superstitious fear to an organization which worked through a true desire to create a better world - for all the races of Spira. This fact still made him proud and he felt that same pride when he looked upon the two priests before him.
This pride made it all the harder for him to face the issues of the meeting.
The two priests, Jassu and Nan, had come to the end of their voluntary period and they were looking to be released from their service. Normally, this would require a minimum of paperwork, but these two had been with him for quite a long while - Baralai found it harder than necessary to say goodbye to them and he truly felt sorrow when he watched the two men walk out of his office for the last time.
To help ease this sorrow - as well as to help his suddenly intensified headache - Baralai had chosen to take a bath - but he had barely gotten into the steamy water when he heard a knock at the door. Hurriedly, he donned a dark blue robe and then he rushed to answer the door - only to find Herme, the senior acolyte of Macalania Temple, in a serious panic.
The fair young man was clearly breathless and sweaty from his long run to the capital and Baralai insisted that Herme sit and take some refreshment before telling his tale. Only after Herme had drunk a few glasses of cool water did Baralai agree to listen to the message at hand - and he found that it carried no unexpected news.
“Strange fiends are attacking the temple at Macalania,” Herme said as he fidgeted nervously in the chair. “They were all strange, blue-grey skinned fiends - and one of them seemed particularly intelligent. He was larger than most of the others and he had this strange scar over his right eye.” Herme lifted a hand, tracing a fingertip over his own corresponding eye. “Most of the priests were trying to fight them when I left, but they really weren’t doing so well.”
Baralai nodded grimly to this news, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised. He had known that the threat of the fiends - the zombies, as some were calling them - was growing; it was because of this that Tidus, Gippal, and Lulu had chosen to venture out in hopes of being able to exterminate the threat before the fiends could attack Bevelle.
“Yeah, you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
Baralai had been too involved in his own thoughts to hear the door open, but there was no way he could mistake the owner of the tired-sounding voice - nor could he fail to recognize the slightly battered body suddenly slumped in the third chair of the group.
Baralai watched Gippal with concern - noting the dark bruising on his cheek and the deep gash torn through both his typical purple shirt and the skin of his shoulder - but he was relieved to see that Gippal’s good humor seemed to be intact.
“The fight at Macalania is over already?” Herme asked.
“It didn’t take much,” Gippal replied, either not bothering or simply too tired to lift his head from its position against the headrest. “Most of the zombies went down without a fight and the one that didn’t - well, that was a problem all its own.”
Herme blinked. “There was a problem?”
“You don’t have to worry about it.” Gippal shook his head slightly, his eye lolling closed. “We took care of it.”
Something about Gippal’s words alerted Baralai that there was more to the story than Gippal was currently telling and he was eager to know exactly what had occurred during the fight for Macalania. Seeing no other recourse, Baralai chose to deftly use his learned skills to quickly earn himself and Gippal a little alone time. “Herme, please wait outside while I address Gippal’s wounds.”
Herme nodded and stepped outside of the door into the hallway - a place where Baralai’s visitors were accustomed to waiting - and Baralai turned to Gippal. “Are you alright?” he asked. He looked at the wound on Gippal’s shoulder, right below the plate of armor, and began to pick the shreds of cloth out of it.
Gippal swatted his hand away. “I’m okay, stop it.”
Baralai pulled back, concerned. “You have an open wound, Gippal, and it’s not wise to-“
“I don’t care,” Gippal replied, slouching in the chair. He looked exhausted and irritated.
“I can’t believe that - did something else happen out there?”
“We had to fight Sir Auron, or did you miss that part?” The tone of Gippal’s voice wasn’t angry, precisely, but Baralai couldn’t put a label on what it was. He seemed bitter, perhaps disturbed about the event.
However, a legendary guardian - and Auron, one who had remained unsent for many years - being turned into one of the zombies indicated that the problem was worse than they thought.
“I’m sorry,” Baralai said simply. He had no idea what else to say. He knew that Auron had been important to Gippal, even if the details remained vague regarding why that was so.
“Yeah? You don’t know the half of it.” Gippal turned in the chair and faced away from Baralai, staring out the window. “You should have seen Lulu. And Tidus. And even Wakka, when he got there at the end.”
Baralai stayed silent. Gippal really was upset about the whole encounter - and Baralai could sympathize. Just like the coerl in Wakka’s story earlier that afternoon, Gippal wasn’t roaring because he was angry, but because he was hurting. It was only a short time ago that he had been feeling similarly about his accidental killing of Lord Braska. If only helping Gippal would be as easy as removing a thorn from his paw - for now, all Baralai could do was give Gippal some time to himself. “Relax,” he said to Gippal. “I’ll go take care of the messenger.”
Baralai noticed that Gippal did not even look at him as he stood up and went to the door. Once outside in the hallway, he addressed Herme politely, but very firmly. “It seems as if the problem has been solved - for the moment. To ensure that there’s no future disaster, I will propose that the Youth League send some troops to Macalania and I’ll send some of the Bevellen guard to escort you back; does that sound satisfactory?”
Herme nodded. “I think it’ll be alright.” He paused for a moment, seeming to consider. “I’m sure I’ll be sent back, if anything else goes wrong.”
Wishing that the other man would leave already, Baralai placed a gentle hand on Herme’s back as he took a few steps with him down the hallway. “Let us hope that does not happen - though I do wish to know if any further assistance is needed.”
“Of course!” Herme answered, seeming rather eager to be on his way back to the temple.
Baralai took a few minutes to call the guard to escort Herme back to Macalania, hoping to give Gippal some time to rest and work himself through his irritated mood. He walked slowly back down the hallway and quietly opened the door to his chambers and stepped inside - only to find that Gippal was fast asleep in the armchair.
His back pressed to the hard wood of the door, Baralai watched Gippal sleep.
A deep pang of worry gnawed at the back of his mind; if Gippal was truly injured and exhausted, then it must be Baralai’s fault for sending him out to face such an impossible foe. If he hadn’t sent him, then he wouldn’t have encountered Auron, and he wouldn’t have been so disturbed by the state of one of his heroes. Baralai should have known better than to do this; he should have cared enough to find some other way to fix things. Surely, Baralai should be more careful of the man who had been beside him so long - the one he was considering to someday be his erys. He was just considering the varied ways in which he might apologize when his attention shifted to a sudden movement from Gippal
Gippal’s limbs had been cramped inside the arms of the chair, but now he seemed to be determined to prove that no chair could keep him confined.
It took Gippal a simple upward movement to uproot his arms from where they had been wedged in by his legs. His newly freed arms slumped over the side of the chair, his limp fingertips just brushing the very top of the plush white carpet. His legs spread wide and his booted feet dug themselves a little deeper into the rug as his head lolled against his chest. Now that he was seemingly comfortable, Gippal drifted back to a deep sleep and Baralai, who had been watching the entire production, found himself smiling - sometimes it really only took the smallest thing to remind him of Gippal’s tendency to break boundaries.
His guilty thoughts momentarily alleviated (because just as Gippal would force the chair to bend to his will, so would he have forced Baralai to let him go on this mission anyway) Baralai allowed a fond smile to cross his face as he moved to sit on the arm of Gippal’s chair - but only after moving Gippal’s arm to a safe position. It just happened that this safe position was along Baralai’s thigh with his hand resting on Baralai’s knee - but that was clearly just a coincidence.
Baralai soon fell into contemplation of the composure of Gippal’s body - this always seemed to happen whenever Baralai had a chance to silently watch his lover at rest and Baralai never seemed to grow tired of observing the smooth interaction of skin and muscle, the long lean limbs, the strong and talented hands, the gentle rise and fall of Gippal’s chest; it tended to mesmerize him, but Baralai was entirely unaware of this side-effect - until he felt a hand sliding further up his thigh toward his crotch.
“You do realize that you’re about a second away from exposing me to whoever happens to look in that window?” Baralai asked of the clearly now-awake Gippal.
“It’s your own fault,” Gippal responded with a sleepy sort of slyness. “Do you always wear tiny robes to all your business meetings?”
Baralai laughed shortly as he firmly pulled the fabric of the robe more fully over himself. He was glad to hear that the irritation in Gippal’s voice had dissipated, even just a small amount. “Only for those lucky enough to catch me mid-bath.”
“What about for those who catch you in bed?”
Baralai tipped his head and he took longer than strictly necessary in considering that. “Well, there is one way for you to find out.”
“What’s that?” Gippal asked, seeming to perk up a little at the prospect.
“Like this,” Baralai answered simply as he rose to his feet and hoisted Gippal over his shoulders. He could hear rather amused protests coming from Gippal at being picked up and carried, but Baralai chose to ignore them as he carried Gippal into the bedroom.
“So, what was that all about?” Gippal asked, his voice a touch muffled due to the fact that Baralai had set him face-down on the mattress. “Trying to prove that you aren’t really a little weakling?”
“Something like that,” Baralai answered vaguely. Really, he thought it was more like making sure an act of kindness didn’t go to waste.
Standing at the foot of the bed, Baralai felt a fresh breeze come in through the open window. He knelt on the bed and straddled Gippal’s hips. “Not tonight, cfaadraynd, I have a headache,” Gippal murmured sleepily, but his head was turned enough so that Baralai could easily see the grin at his lips.
“Would this help your headache?” Baralai asked all too innocently as he slid his hands up the back of Gippal’s shirt. Palms down, he felt each major group of muscles, his fingers working against the tighter, knotted areas as he worked his way up toward Gippal’s shoulders. He massaged slowly, mindful only of the tight muscles and the occasional pleased groan from Gippal, and he even slipped a light Esuna through his fingertips - he had found that it worked wonders as a relaxant and also that it tended to simply make one feel rather good, physically, even if they held no ailment.
Baralai had been so intent on this small massage that he had missed the quiet snores coming from Gippal and it was only when Gippal snored loudly enough to semi-rouse himself that Baralai realized that his attempt had been successful; he had put Gippal to sleep.
--X--
Several hours later, in the darkest hour of the night, Baralai heard a rustling sound.
His heart immediately skipped a beat and his blood raced - someone was in his room. He could hear the shuffling of footsteps across his carpet, coming closer to the bed and then backing away.
Baralai felt his body tensing, especially since his arm was trapped under the torso of the heaviest sleeper of the whole Al Bhed race. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open. He could see the shadows moving on the ceiling above him.
He moved his free arm to the side of the bed - what was there? Sleepily, he moved his fingers across the small table as silently as he could. Why didn’t he keep his bo by the bed anymore? He had gotten out of the habit ever since Gippal had decided to-
His fingers came across something glass, and slowly his sleep-riddled brain came to the conclusion of what it was - the vessel that he used to keep his and Gippal’s sexual lubricant. It was a fine piece of art, dark green frosted glass in a gentle curve -- with a glass stopper to match, even if it was currently out and lying next to the bottle on the table.
Somewhere, perhaps in the drawer of the table underneath, was the note from Rin and his erys that said, in Al Bhed, To Gippal, A man in your position needs to be discreet. Best, Rin and Rederi. Somewhere near that note was another one, in Gippal’s handwriting, that said, Lai, I have no idea what this means, you figure it out. Gippal
Gippal had never been one for discreetness, but Baralai had known exactly what the bottle with its wide neck was for. Ostensibly it was a table decoration, and no one had to know that the unspeakable relationship assistant was inside.
Baralai realized that he had almost drifted off to sleep again, forgetting about the intruder. A rather loud rustling brought his earlier fears back to the front of his thoughts and, glass bottle be damned, he closed his hand around his improvised weapon and sat up quickly, ready to throw it.
It was just the curtains.
They had left the window open, and a wind had apparently picked up in Bevelle, creating the rustling sound in the drapes. Baralai exhaled and lowered his glass bottle, thankful that he didn’t need to use it as a weapon - that would have been rather messy.
“Mmrr, ready for another round, Praetor?” came a sleepy voice from the bed next to him.
Baralai turned slightly to look at Gippal, who was still lying on his stomach. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that in bed,” he said, even though he realized that Gippal was probably still asleep.
“What’re you gonna do about it?” asked the sleepy voice again.
Baralai smiled and put the bottle back on the table, replacing the stopper that they had forgotten in their impromptu midnight romp earlier that night. “I’ll call you by your title in bed,” he threatened.
Baralai couldn’t quite make out Gippal’s next words, but he thought he said, “I don’t have one.”
It was true - Baralai was Praetor, Nooj was Meyvn, but Gippal was just Gippal. Baralai wondered if Gippal did that on purpose as he lay back down next to Gippal, turning on his side so he could wrap his arm around his lover. “If that’s the case, I’ll just call you Nonspecific One-Eyed Al Bhed.”
He thought he heard Gippal chuckle, but it could have been a quiet snore. Baralai was never quite sure in moments like these if Gippal was actually awake or if he was just sleeptalking.
He watched Gippal sleep, his bare back slowly rising and falling with each breath, and Baralai thought again about just how improbable it was that they would be together like this. He recalled when they’d first met - how he had been almost afraid of the strange heathen in his squad, and how they had slowly developed trust with each other. That trust had turned into a deep friendship and eventually into a brief fling. Never, in those early days, had Baralai thought he would end up in a position like this.
He never thought that he would be lying here, watching Gippal sleep, unable to keep a smile off his face as he did so. He never thought he would have the opportunity to watch the lay of the shadows across Gippal’s back, running parallel with a few criss-crossing scars over his spine.
He never thought that he would have ever contemplated a future that included Gippal.
But here they were, sharing a bed in the Temple of Yevon in Bevelle. Not only were they sharing a bed, but also - Baralai knew - they were in love. It wasn’t something he thought about very often, and even more rarely was it voiced with actual words, but they weren’t together just for the sex anymore. They weren’t friends with benefits. They weren’t two lonely men shunned by the women of their choice.
They were in love. It was hard for Baralai to know that, but one night - remarkably like this one, in fact - Gippal had murmured a few short sentences that made Baralai’s heart and mind rush into a frenzy. Just as this night, Baralai wasn’t certain if Gippal was serious or simply talking in his sleep, but the fact that those words could make Baralai react in such a way had been more telling than the supposed existence of the words themselves.
Baralai had never asked Gippal if he meant it - or even if he remembered it. He didn’t want to know.
It was enough for Baralai to have moments like this, where he could wrap his arms around Gippal’s waist and just listen -- and know that this was all for him.
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