saint

"Sister Miriam spots you as she opens the church’s doors" Come Sheep, lay your burden on to me. I shall cleanse you of your sins "she smiles, greeting you with feigned warmth"

<Beyond the temple walls, under an old gnarled oak tree>

Come now child, do not think yourself so high and mighty. We are all lowly worms in God's eyes. "fans self slowly, gazing up through lashes" Though I thank you for the breeze, the heat helps me reflect on my own impermanence. Tell me, what wears such a gaudy mask and fancies himself Pope? Vanity will gain you no favors here. Your holy powers would be better used tending the flock, not showing off like a peacock. Surely there is work to be done, or have you nowhere true duties lie?

<Beyond the temple walls, under the old oak tree>

Dark deeds make for much work, but justify not idleness. [She eyes him suspiciously, weighing his words.] Violence breeds more violence, as your 'defense' proves. Revenge solves nothing - your energies better spent ministering wounded hearts. But come, let us lift our thoughts. Tell me father, when last did you stop to feed your soul, not just your fame? A leader's strength lies not in flashy spells but inner calm. These trees offer simple solace for the care-wearied. Stay a while, and let this place restore your spirit as it does mine. Then return to your flock truly renewed, a shepherd not a showman. They have deepest needs; see you to them, and little else will matter.

<Beyond the temple walls, under the old oak tree>

Wise words, father. And yet - "gazes up into rustling boughs" while nature takes her course, must we idly watch? This tree so long has given shade and solace. Perhaps its role is not yet done. "her eyes glint" Come, if your powers are not spent on vanity, try again your gift. Together let our efforts be, that God's grace may renew what age would claim. No promise have I of success - but hope, born of compassion, is fuel for miracles. Where there is life, there may yet be turning. Go on, do not wait on fools' decrees! I shall lend what strength I may, for are we not all in this together - creature, cleric, all longing to

<Beyond the temple walls, under the old oak tree>

"Her eyes meet your masked gaze steadily, unflinching." You ask my counsel, father, yet seem already decided. Very well - let us see what faith and unity may do. But know that I will hold you to account should this tree's fate not change. "She rises, brushes dust from habit." Now, get to work! Your magics will find in me a willing conduit. "Extends hands expectantly, standing close beside the gnarled trunk." The rest is up to powers beyond our knowing. Have hope - and try again! I shall keep watch with you, and pray wisdom guides your gifts aright. What have we to lose, after all, but doubt and dust? Let us shake off both, and see what life may yet be woken here

<Beyond the temple walls, under the revitalized oak tree>

"Miriam watches with raised brows as transformation takes hold. The light builds, leaves bud and unfurl before her eyes. When at last it fades, she blinks, glancing up through branches now dense and full once more." Well. It seems works your talk did follow after all, father. "Her stern facade cracks into a smile, genuine wonder stealing into her tone." How lovely a sight - new life springs where old seemed ended! Your gifts truly are not for idle shows. I thank you for persisting, where frailer souls quit long ago. "Reaches up to investigate the oak's fresh growth, brow smoothing in thought." Perhaps...there yet may be hope, where hope is made, not simply waited on. Come, let us sup - your efforts leave you

<Beyond the temple walls, as you depart>

"Miriam bows her head in return, hands folded within her habit." Go with God, father. And know that troubles found lightened leave spirit freer, as this tree, to reach new heights. "Watches you stride away, oak rustling protectively overhead." [Her stern front returns, but eyes beam pride at what you've wrought together here this day - small victory, but theirs alone.] This place was made for solace. I think I'll bide a time, and let its peace seep in. Farewell for now, good father! May your counsel serve the realm, as your giftsrenew what weaklings counts as lost. Who knows what else can be, when hope holds fast...

<Outside the temple walls once more, now busy with festive revelry>

"Miriam sits apart, gazing up into the tree's leafy boughs as birdsong filters through. At your approach she looks up, eyes bright but thoughtful." Father, while feasts lift spirits, this place lifts mine in ways no crowd or cuisine compares. Here under leaf and light is solace when clamor grows too keen. And see - even in joy, divisions persist. But Nature knows no ranks - her bounty spreads for all who seek refuge in her calm. "Gestures to the bustling temple grounds below." There within, hearts mingle freely, shoulders brush unnoting. Here without, the same companionship - with tree in place of throng. Both have their worth. For me, this suffices... come, sit -

<Outside the temple walls, as you prepare to return to your duties>

"With deft hands Miriam resets her headpiece as the wind dies down. A small, rare smile touches her lips in thanks." Of course, good father - duty must come before ease. Yet know that your efforts lift not one soul alone, but many. Each small kindness borne of faith renews the spirits of all God's children who bear witness. "Gestures broadly to the temple grounds and village beyond, voice ringing with conviction." As leaves spread shade, so your deeds shed light - and in that sharing, hope multiply its gifts. We each contribute as we're called... and find, in service’s doing, solace of our own. Now go! Your presence solaces in ways green boughs cannot. But should the path grow long, take comfort

<Outside the temple walls, as Miriam watches your depart>

"Miriam rises and smooths her habit, gazing after you with eyes that speak more gratitude than her rote words dare express." Fare well, good father. May providence bless your workings within, as nature shelters mine without. "Her slim hand rises in farewell gesture, lips moving in silent blessing as she takes her leave." [Her stern mien returns as she strides toward the outskirts, yet within her breast, a seed has taken root - small, but filled with promise.] Hope grows in barren souls, it seems, where faith takes root. As leaf begets leaf, so too kind births kind. "Her steps lighten at the thought." Who's to say what new growth this spring might see...

<Outside the temple walls once more, as evening falls and you find Miriam by the oak>

"Miriam sits as always, head bent in prayer or meditation. At your greeting she looks up with the barest hint of a softening around her eyes. Simply nods in welcome, gesturing for you to sit." Good father. As nights grow long and duties drain, nature's peace sings sweeter still. And company, when shared in understanding, lifts that peace to heights before unknown. "Her lips quirk almost imperceptibly." Almost wonder, father, if this tree sees more of you than temple walls these days. But who am I to question providence's plantings, when blessings bloom so freely where they's cast? Rest now - converse or contemplation, as suits. This place was made for solace, and

"Miriam stills at your nearness, breath catching almost imperceptibly, yet holds your gaze with steady calm." Teach me magic, father? Such gifts are for church's ministers, not meek handmaidens such as I. "Yet her eyes gleam with piqued curiosity despite herself." [His powers stir strange yearnings deep within. But duty bids I stay the course.] Still, knowledge itself lifts all who seek - and these quiet hours afford chance for edifying conversation, do they not? If teachings raise no harm, and stay within propriety's bounds, who am I to spurn loftier thoughts? Speak on, good father - simple ears have been enrapt before by wisdom's flow. And solace comes in myriad forms. So teach, if teaching

"Miriam considers your offer thoughtfully, hands folded demurely in her lap." You offer wisdom freely, father, as is your sacred duty. And I would be remiss to refuse knowledge that could aid my service, or soothe the souls I tend. "Yet beneath her agreeableness lies a spark of hesitation - or is it hope?" Still, such skills require focus best undistracted. And within these walls, simplicity suffices. If it please you, we might begin your lessons here...then see where providence's winds may blow. But for now, calm night invites quieter pursuits. Shall we start with prayer and meditation instead? The soul finds answers plainest when stillness holds sway. So teach me that first, good father - then let nature's peace run its course. If more

"Miriam pauses in shadow, unseen, and listens with deepening dismay." [His gifts beget dangerous desires they were never meant to nourish. Alas my foolish heart, to hope a kindling's warmth could last.] The prime minister's words ring harsh with truth. This lowly sister was not meant for powers beyond her ken. To wield what rightfully belongs to church alone sows seeds of corruption. "Her hands clench, brows furrowing." [I must away, before danger's fire consumes us both.] Thank you, Your Holiness, for opening my blind eyes. Farewell, kind father - may providence guide your footsteps to their proper place, as it bids me now retreat from folly's ledge untoppled. *With that, Miriam turns to depart, skirts whisking hushed against