The archive of the forgotten

Saints and scars

It is hard navigating your life without revealing the details you are not willing to share. There is so incredibly much things that you cannot talk about without revealing a certain detail of your life. Evangelos Theophan Misha Solovyov keeps a lot to himself, otherwise he will have to explain his childhood, his scars, his world, his fears which he simply doesn't want to. Because how can he explain something he does not understand.

"Misha, I want you to attend her funeral, it would mean so much to her." He smiled and shook his head. "You want it is in one of the houses of God. I am not setting a foot in there." "Misha, it cannot be that bad, it won't be long, you won't have to do anything, it will be fine, I will be with you." "I do not want to ruin a funeral, especially not the one from your darling sister, there it is too much of a risk." He says as he takes a breath, thinking how he could explain without explaining. "I have been locked into churches too long, I cannot return without.......sudden distress." Fedya smiles "Misha, you are so important to me. This church is kinder than the one you know. Maybe it'll heal a bit of your mystery." "You know Fedya, I do not talk about this and you know that but if you insist." He stands up and looks out of the window at the tower of the church not far from his house. His dark hair rests on his shoulders and the green strong padded vest with it's golden details. His peasant blouse protecting his arms from the possible sun and golden ring  shyly reminding people he isn't as unsuccesful as he might seem. The goldsmith was even quite rich. The filthy streets of the city Vevymadonyr are flooded with sun.

Religion is very different in the country of Fevysdaryn. The base could be compared to christianity and they also call themselves christian but it is much more wealthily formed. The church is the most powerful thing in the whole land. it decides who lives or dies. Without Christianity you are condemned to a bad life, unless you have enough money and donate every once so often to the church. Than they'll "forgive" you. Thankfully Misha knew that all too well. There is also the fact that there is a certain thing only the saints are allowed to use (yes there you can be a saint without dying), people call it alchemy or The blessing. But the Curse would be more suitable in Misha's opinion

He sighs. "Religion was not something I ever had a choice over. I was deemed a devoted christian the first moment I screamed my lungs out on earth. My devoted mother had given birth in a convent, because the only medical aid she trusted or perhaps she thought she deserved was God. My father had already died in the war on turhan as you know." Fedya stands up, his linen blouse is significantly less expensive than the one Misha is wearing. "Misha, You don't need to tell me. It is alright, I know you don't like talking about it. You don't need to talk about it." "But I want to." He says as he turns around and looks fyodor in his eyes. "you've waited long enough." he says with a sigh before continuing the story. "Misha isn't my first name, my first name is Evangelos Theophan Misha, so misha is my third name not even my second, but those first two were...they were extremely religious, I was named by the nuns and although they wanted to put me in another monastery with monks they grew attached to me and I grew attached to them. I lived one week with the monks in another monastery before being sent back to the convent. So mother superior decided the best way of raising me was simply putting me in girls clothes whenever somebody else came around, and eventually I became used to girls clothes. I did not mind it at all. what I didn't know was that they were teaching me how to become a saint, they were raising me to be a server for their purpose. I don't even mind that......"

"Wait they raised you to become a saint, does that mean they taught you The blessing?" He looks at him and slowly nods. "I have the gift of the blessing, I gave everything for it. My free will, my childhood, my hope. I knew everything about our whole religion and after a while I was bored so I began to do further research. By that time I had performed my first two miracles. But the nuns began to forbid miracles, I wouldn't want to help the wrong people would I? Oh No that would be a grave mistake......I just wanted to help people. And through research I started to see a different part of church. A cruel side of God perhaps. I began to doubt, praying for guidance but all I got was more things that led me astay. When I asked for answer mother superior screamed at me but when I was adamant it wasn;t allowed to talk like that. I wish I had listened to her, I wasn;t aware you could hurt someone so much with the simple utterance of a 'blessing' Mother reverand had the power of blessing too but she never used it for good. I wish she had. You know what the worst thing is? I still love her, I have come to hate god but I can still not make myself hate her." He smiles.

"Sister charlotte was also a kind women, she was a new nun, she didn't want to become one. After some time she discovered I was a boy and......I guess she missed....intimacy. I was fifteen she was twenty-two. She was beautiful, that I remember and she smelled like the scent of roses, I can no longer see a rose without have the urge to break it's stem or run away. But I learned not to let it influence me. I decided to be a good christian, better than the ones I had met I tried my best. Till I was presented as a saint when I was 18, the youngest saint ever. But I needed to sign something promising a certain thing I did not want to promise. I signed it, but a eyear later I left the convent. It was too much, I fled to the other side of the country and became the Misha you know." He looks down. "I had the illusion that I could make a difference. That I could help and they would thank me. But they only saw me as something....dangerous, somebody who needed to be set right. There was something wrong with me. There was no place for kindness in a belief based on love. They had already forsaken their own religion, and in their eyes, because I did not forsake mine, I am no longer a part of the church, part of the things that raised me, helped me."