A Trans Messiah Heals a Gay Roman’s Lover — Great Faith, Great Love
Where there is love, God is there
The crowd ebbs and flows around Yasha, hundreds of sandaled feet tossing swirls of dust into the air. The twelve stay at hand, keeping people from pressing so close as to prevent Yasha from moving. Impressions wash over him, senses and passions, like waves washing upon the sand. So many people; so much love and sorrow and pain and desire and grief and joy.
The buildings of Kfar Naḥum close around them as they enter the village. People mending nets and gutting fish pause to stare as the multitude crams into the narrow street, and spills out into the surrounding area. Whispers tumble through the town, spilling from person to person with the news that Yasha has arrived.
The murmurs halt as a tall man steps out into the street in front of Yasha. His countenance names him Roman, and his uniform marks him a centurion. The crowd shrinks back from him, some people even twitching clothing away from touching him.
“Signore.” The centurion makes obeisance to Yasha as befits one of high rank to another. “My pais is lying at home, dreadfully ill.” His Aramaic is strongly accented, but clear.
Cephas steps forward as if to put himself between Yasha and the foreigner, and Yasha feels Yohan’s…
