Silvānus (Estonia)

[Patricus I]

She spewed and sputtered, not unlike the chaotic bubblings of a brook pebbled by river rocks. Meanwhile, Philip walked much as he had every other circle around the yard, hands clasped gently, eyes cast a few steps ahead, pensive thought drawn into the lines of his face. The weather had warmed since the previous day. A slight wind ruffled the cloth at his feet just as it plucked at the ends of Thalia’s hair.

As once before she inquired of a name, Philip considered the depth of the seemingly benign query. Was he Patricus I, Philip Sullivan, Christ himself? In dreams he self-identified as nobody, but she conjured a name from the swirl of heaven’s cauldron. In the days following, he queried the word, curious at the connection between himself and the species of moth he assumed she referenced. At the time, he disliked the name, though he became rather fond of the fuzzy moniker by dream’s end. The dictionary provided another explanation, and then it was clear. Upon locating the lore, Philip quite approved with her assessment. The qualities of Athene Noctua were at his core: intelligence, prudence, serenity, and a keen observation of subtleties hidden. Who could blame her astute observations?

“She did,” he used Thalia’s preferred pronoun. Not in the way of those requesting grammatically antithetical parts of speech to represent themselves, but because Thalia, while the same, was like a different slice of the same whole from which was derived Nimeda. Calling her as you felt wrong, albeit silly.
A grumble vibrated the Pope’s throat.
“She called me Noctua,” he said plainly. “And I called her, Nimeda. Although she did not seem attached to the title. You are her, and she is you. Get used to the idea.”

They came to an area of the yard to which he was leading, although the guidance would not have been apparent until he paused there. A patch of gravel spilled out from the planks surrounding the children’s play set. He knelt, drawing upon the surface with the touch of a finger.

Without preamble, he changed the subject, glancing at her for reaction only after posing a direct question as he stood over the symbol at their feet. ”What happened to your hand?”