Interlude II (Estonia)

[Patricus I]

He did not like the flippancy with which fate was exchanged for their Maker, or whatever. Not because he was so prickled by the heresy, but because he did not seek reminders of their distant stations. The collar about his neck was white, and he was not one to dangle temptations to lost sheep, rarely so when the collar was a darker hue, but the snugness of the fit was purposefully designed, as was the weight of the burden he bore on his shoulders. The comment irritated him, but not because it came from Thalia, but because it echoed a reminder he preferred to ignore.

“I call it the complex and unfathomable architecture that is faith,” he bit back, but rather than hurry away, he remained rooted in place. If he was truly offended, he would have departed. He was simply an irritable, moody man in an irritable mood. Those around him would guffaw and leave in a huff to be treated so poorly, or they would stay. Such was exactly the lack of attachment to mankind that protected him from the vulnerability of from mortal wounds as thoroughly as the cape and Capello cloaked him with plate and mail.

A grumble rattled his chest for her question. It prickled memories of the shared dream, another act he preferred to repress. He journaled the experience. Tracked the girl that concerned him to action. His behavior shifted dramatically after a lifetime of similar experiences. He did not appreciate the reminder. “You know what is so beautiful about questions? It is that we don’t have the answers.”  In the dream, he grasped the same hand that was within arm's reach and placed the fullness of his faith into the demand for need, but Noctua was not Philip was not Patricus I. He would never touch another so informally. It was a miracle he even dreamed the act.

He was studying the glassy surface of the lake-scape when in that moment, some sunlight filtered the trees. The light shone a beam upon the pectoral cross nestled at his chest, flicking it into his eyes. With a turn, he tilted his chin to the light a moment, drenching himself in the heavenly beam, lids lowered until a whiteness filled all his vision. He stood in such a posture for some moments until suddenly tilting back into to the shade of the cap. The heat of an infernal summer would soon break.