Silvānus (Estonia)

[Patricus I]

He remembered dreams, yes. It was a plague until he was advised to journal the happenings as an unloading of the mind’s burdens. Many such journals were filled since that fateful day, but once the account was penned, Philip abandoned the memory as cleanly as Thalia.
“There are no bad gifts from the Lord, although his children are often annoyed by their burden,” he said. A twist to the lips suggested he himself was likely one so irritated. She may be as well.

The intrusion into the story of her wound was a prickly adventure. Thalia tensed as the rush of a river ahead of a waterfall. The sudden wariness of his presence was an unwelcome shadow. The box mirrored the shape emblazoned in his memory as fiercely as her skin. His gaze flicked from it to the bandages as if he may see through the cloth itself. How had an innocuous trinket branded the palm? Had she snatched it from a fire? It was unmarred.

Unease filtered, sparked by the incendiary box in question. He gently reached to graze the surface, and at the last moment, took it from her.
He turned it over a couple of times. Something was inside, but the eyes of the Holy Father beheld was not impressed. He did not open it. Carelessly, it rolled from his grasp in a thunk to the ground. Philip did not often touch people, finding even the most formal of encounters to be too friendly, but he wanted to shake her at the shoulder and make her see what he saw. Somehow, he restrained himself, and forced his gaze toward the trees instead. Unable to look at her for fear of the aforementioned rattling.

“I am a guardian of souls, Thalia. I came here for a soul.” His jaw tensed, “yours.” He let his eyes fall, lids shielding the sight of her from the temptation to walk these worldly paths.
“What you have is a brand, like the pirates of old forever marked to bear warning of their offenses. You’re dabbling in something dangerous, and someone worse wants what you have found,” he said, still unable to bring himself to look upon her. How old was she? He hadn’t asked of Thalia Milton, but the heartfelt purity of her gaze suggested childlike affection, for which Philip was vulnerable by a soft spot in his heart.