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The dress was too long. Amarissa struggled with the length of the garment as she and Mazal made their way through the market. Amarissa's preferred dress was being washed at home but extra ingredients were needed for the Pessach dinner and everyone else was busy with other preparations. Mazel too had been busy but it would have been unseemly to send Amarissa alone so off the two were sent. With all the finest clothes being washed and dried in preparation for the night's festivities, Rishona had found one of Gali's old dresses that had been packed away. Both Caleb and Cane had acted like they'd seen a dybbuk. Rishona had shoo'd them away and assured Amarissa that it would be fine for a quick market run.
The walk to the market had been a pleasant one despite how busy it was and how the two young women had to move and weave around the crowds. Families were gathering last minute supplies, camel trains were coming in with visitors from other towns for the holiday. It was a wonderful and exciting time of year. Amarissa was not sure why she did feel it was so.
Ammun, fresh in its spring elegance was for once a showcase of dessert beauty. The recent rains bringing forth flowers and grass where bare dirt would once more reclaim come summer. Fields outside of the city were havens for seeds and the grains from last year's harvest were taking root with wild abandon. Yet with all this beauty and growth, Amarissa felt merely on the outside looking in. And observer but not...a part of it at all. Other young women her age were all aflutter about the eligible young men around. Yet Amarissa found no longing there for any of it. She'd smile and try to play along, even engaging in games about who would end up married to whom with Mazel. But the idea of leaving her family to marry a relative stranger and move in with them seemed unwelcome for a reason Amarissa could not put her finger on. She knew this was a normal course of events. She knew that this was what was expected of her sex. Yet it was not something she wanted and she did not know why.
She tried to distract herself with the tasks from her mother and busied herself and Mazel with gathering the needed ingredients. She had just requested two loaves of Challah when she saw two young children huddled across the row, dressed in rags and staring at her. With a frown, Amarissa slipped the merchant some additional coins and asked for a third loaf. The merchant noticed her looks across the row and nodded quietly, taking only half of the extra coinage and giving her the rest back as he slipped a third loaf into her hands. Smiling gently and thanking him, Amarissa turned and gave two of the loaves to Mazel to hold before making her way over to the children. She had other packages in her other arm, but she knelt down to offer the loaf to the children.
They stared at her for a moment but then with hopeful looks in their eyes, gratefully took the loaf and scampered away. Shaking her head sadly, Amarissa moved to get up but with a sudden jostle of the crowd, found herself off balance, tripping over her skirt and landing on her side, her packages splayed out around her.
"Noo!" she called out a bit too quietly and having not yet gathered herself to her feet, tried to snatch the packages from the trampling and careless feet all around her. She snatched one away just as a donkey was about to step squarely upon it and another right before a young toddler curiously scooped it up. Mentally counting the packages, Amarissa turned quickly, still not truly on her feet yet, her eyes connecting with a young and beautiful young woman.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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The dress was too long. Amarissa struggled with the length of the garment as she and Mazal made their way through the market. Amarissa's preferred dress was being washed at home but extra ingredients were needed for the Pessach dinner and everyone else was busy with other preparations. Mazel too had been busy but it would have been unseemly to send Amarissa alone so off the two were sent. With all the finest clothes being washed and dried in preparation for the night's festivities, Rishona had found one of Gali's old dresses that had been packed away. Both Caleb and Cane had acted like they'd seen a dybbuk. Rishona had shoo'd them away and assured Amarissa that it would be fine for a quick market run.
The walk to the market had been a pleasant one despite how busy it was and how the two young women had to move and weave around the crowds. Families were gathering last minute supplies, camel trains were coming in with visitors from other towns for the holiday. It was a wonderful and exciting time of year. Amarissa was not sure why she did feel it was so.
Ammun, fresh in its spring elegance was for once a showcase of dessert beauty. The recent rains bringing forth flowers and grass where bare dirt would once more reclaim come summer. Fields outside of the city were havens for seeds and the grains from last year's harvest were taking root with wild abandon. Yet with all this beauty and growth, Amarissa felt merely on the outside looking in. And observer but not...a part of it at all. Other young women her age were all aflutter about the eligible young men around. Yet Amarissa found no longing there for any of it. She'd smile and try to play along, even engaging in games about who would end up married to whom with Mazel. But the idea of leaving her family to marry a relative stranger and move in with them seemed unwelcome for a reason Amarissa could not put her finger on. She knew this was a normal course of events. She knew that this was what was expected of her sex. Yet it was not something she wanted and she did not know why.
She tried to distract herself with the tasks from her mother and busied herself and Mazel with gathering the needed ingredients. She had just requested two loaves of Challah when she saw two young children huddled across the row, dressed in rags and staring at her. With a frown, Amarissa slipped the merchant some additional coins and asked for a third loaf. The merchant noticed her looks across the row and nodded quietly, taking only half of the extra coinage and giving her the rest back as he slipped a third loaf into her hands. Smiling gently and thanking him, Amarissa turned and gave two of the loaves to Mazel to hold before making her way over to the children. She had other packages in her other arm, but she knelt down to offer the loaf to the children.
They stared at her for a moment but then with hopeful looks in their eyes, gratefully took the loaf and scampered away. Shaking her head sadly, Amarissa moved to get up but with a sudden jostle of the crowd, found herself off balance, tripping over her skirt and landing on her side, her packages splayed out around her.
"Noo!" she called out a bit too quietly and having not yet gathered herself to her feet, tried to snatch the packages from the trampling and careless feet all around her. She snatched one away just as a donkey was about to step squarely upon it and another right before a young toddler curiously scooped it up. Mentally counting the packages, Amarissa turned quickly, still not truly on her feet yet, her eyes connecting with a young and beautiful young woman.
The dress was too long. Amarissa struggled with the length of the garment as she and Mazal made their way through the market. Amarissa's preferred dress was being washed at home but extra ingredients were needed for the Pessach dinner and everyone else was busy with other preparations. Mazel too had been busy but it would have been unseemly to send Amarissa alone so off the two were sent. With all the finest clothes being washed and dried in preparation for the night's festivities, Rishona had found one of Gali's old dresses that had been packed away. Both Caleb and Cane had acted like they'd seen a dybbuk. Rishona had shoo'd them away and assured Amarissa that it would be fine for a quick market run.
The walk to the market had been a pleasant one despite how busy it was and how the two young women had to move and weave around the crowds. Families were gathering last minute supplies, camel trains were coming in with visitors from other towns for the holiday. It was a wonderful and exciting time of year. Amarissa was not sure why she did feel it was so.
Ammun, fresh in its spring elegance was for once a showcase of dessert beauty. The recent rains bringing forth flowers and grass where bare dirt would once more reclaim come summer. Fields outside of the city were havens for seeds and the grains from last year's harvest were taking root with wild abandon. Yet with all this beauty and growth, Amarissa felt merely on the outside looking in. And observer but not...a part of it at all. Other young women her age were all aflutter about the eligible young men around. Yet Amarissa found no longing there for any of it. She'd smile and try to play along, even engaging in games about who would end up married to whom with Mazel. But the idea of leaving her family to marry a relative stranger and move in with them seemed unwelcome for a reason Amarissa could not put her finger on. She knew this was a normal course of events. She knew that this was what was expected of her sex. Yet it was not something she wanted and she did not know why.
She tried to distract herself with the tasks from her mother and busied herself and Mazel with gathering the needed ingredients. She had just requested two loaves of Challah when she saw two young children huddled across the row, dressed in rags and staring at her. With a frown, Amarissa slipped the merchant some additional coins and asked for a third loaf. The merchant noticed her looks across the row and nodded quietly, taking only half of the extra coinage and giving her the rest back as he slipped a third loaf into her hands. Smiling gently and thanking him, Amarissa turned and gave two of the loaves to Mazel to hold before making her way over to the children. She had other packages in her other arm, but she knelt down to offer the loaf to the children.
They stared at her for a moment but then with hopeful looks in their eyes, gratefully took the loaf and scampered away. Shaking her head sadly, Amarissa moved to get up but with a sudden jostle of the crowd, found herself off balance, tripping over her skirt and landing on her side, her packages splayed out around her.
"Noo!" she called out a bit too quietly and having not yet gathered herself to her feet, tried to snatch the packages from the trampling and careless feet all around her. She snatched one away just as a donkey was about to step squarely upon it and another right before a young toddler curiously scooped it up. Mentally counting the packages, Amarissa turned quickly, still not truly on her feet yet, her eyes connecting with a young and beautiful young woman.
Life had become a little bit of a dream for Hannah. Slipping by her beyond her means or control, turning constantly more nightmarish without her consent and becoming something that she - in truth - wished to escape.
Two months ago, everything had been perfect.
Whilst she and Isaiah were not and were never likely to become wealthy or important people - markings by wish everyone else liked to measure success - they had been utterly happy. The days had come with enough tribulations to keep their character's strong and enough joy to see them content in their world. They had been married to their soulmates as far as Hannah was concerned, and the impending advent of their first child had been beyond blissful, in a way that could not be formulated into words.
Now, everything was different.
Isaiah was gone. At sea somewhere in the belly of a ship, the whip at his back and an oar in his hand. Hannah felt bile rise in the back of her mouth at the very thought, pushing the mental images away. She had enough of witnessing her husband in pain and suffering when asleep and her greatest fears manifested into unshakeable nightmares that left a haunted look in her eye for most of the day. She did not need them impeding in the daylight hours or she would not survive.
Trying to keep her mind blank and return the dull, dreamy fog that she had begun to live in for the last eight weeks, Hannah moved through the crowd at the market, sent by her new master to fetch several items that she wasn't very familiar with.
She had written the items down and was intent on showing them to the market stall owners in the hopes of locating the items in question but, so far, she was having little luck. Her Hebrew was good now, and she was more or less fluent, having been in Judea for over a year. But her sudden move to Ammun didn't help given that all cities spoke with a slight dialect or a different turn of phrase. And as she had never been the slave of a metal worker before, she had no familiarity with the items he needed or the names for them, as a native Judean might.
Moving through the crowds, her limbs drawn in to make her frame as slim and small as possible, Hannah was lost in her own daze when she heard a voice call out. The volume was low - she would have likely not heard it at all, had she not been standing so close already - but it was filled with a moment of panic that had Hannah turning immediately in that direction.
Side-stepping a large man with a wooden barrel on his shoulder, Hannah immediately spotted the issue as a young woman was on her hands and knees scrambling of packages that had rolled in every direction, clearly having been loosed from her hands.
Her natural instinct to help, Hannah stepped forwards quickly when she noted the young woman almost have her hand crushed beneath a donkey's step as she recovered the packaged goods. Clearly, they were important to her.
Shoving the piece of linen that she had written on into the folds of her simlah, Hannah bent low to help.
Now at four months in her pregnancy, the swell of her belly could be hidden beneath traditional Judean attire but was enough of a size to hinder her a little as she crouched low to pick up the packages closest to her feet.
As the woman rose a little into a crouch and turned, casting about for the remainder of her property, Hannah offered her a smile - the mask of her mitpahath having fallen in her efforts to retrieve the goods, revealing the face beneath - and held out a small pile of three or four items she had collected together.
"Here." She offered, in a tone of calm and subdued kindness.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Life had become a little bit of a dream for Hannah. Slipping by her beyond her means or control, turning constantly more nightmarish without her consent and becoming something that she - in truth - wished to escape.
Two months ago, everything had been perfect.
Whilst she and Isaiah were not and were never likely to become wealthy or important people - markings by wish everyone else liked to measure success - they had been utterly happy. The days had come with enough tribulations to keep their character's strong and enough joy to see them content in their world. They had been married to their soulmates as far as Hannah was concerned, and the impending advent of their first child had been beyond blissful, in a way that could not be formulated into words.
Now, everything was different.
Isaiah was gone. At sea somewhere in the belly of a ship, the whip at his back and an oar in his hand. Hannah felt bile rise in the back of her mouth at the very thought, pushing the mental images away. She had enough of witnessing her husband in pain and suffering when asleep and her greatest fears manifested into unshakeable nightmares that left a haunted look in her eye for most of the day. She did not need them impeding in the daylight hours or she would not survive.
Trying to keep her mind blank and return the dull, dreamy fog that she had begun to live in for the last eight weeks, Hannah moved through the crowd at the market, sent by her new master to fetch several items that she wasn't very familiar with.
She had written the items down and was intent on showing them to the market stall owners in the hopes of locating the items in question but, so far, she was having little luck. Her Hebrew was good now, and she was more or less fluent, having been in Judea for over a year. But her sudden move to Ammun didn't help given that all cities spoke with a slight dialect or a different turn of phrase. And as she had never been the slave of a metal worker before, she had no familiarity with the items he needed or the names for them, as a native Judean might.
Moving through the crowds, her limbs drawn in to make her frame as slim and small as possible, Hannah was lost in her own daze when she heard a voice call out. The volume was low - she would have likely not heard it at all, had she not been standing so close already - but it was filled with a moment of panic that had Hannah turning immediately in that direction.
Side-stepping a large man with a wooden barrel on his shoulder, Hannah immediately spotted the issue as a young woman was on her hands and knees scrambling of packages that had rolled in every direction, clearly having been loosed from her hands.
Her natural instinct to help, Hannah stepped forwards quickly when she noted the young woman almost have her hand crushed beneath a donkey's step as she recovered the packaged goods. Clearly, they were important to her.
Shoving the piece of linen that she had written on into the folds of her simlah, Hannah bent low to help.
Now at four months in her pregnancy, the swell of her belly could be hidden beneath traditional Judean attire but was enough of a size to hinder her a little as she crouched low to pick up the packages closest to her feet.
As the woman rose a little into a crouch and turned, casting about for the remainder of her property, Hannah offered her a smile - the mask of her mitpahath having fallen in her efforts to retrieve the goods, revealing the face beneath - and held out a small pile of three or four items she had collected together.
"Here." She offered, in a tone of calm and subdued kindness.
Life had become a little bit of a dream for Hannah. Slipping by her beyond her means or control, turning constantly more nightmarish without her consent and becoming something that she - in truth - wished to escape.
Two months ago, everything had been perfect.
Whilst she and Isaiah were not and were never likely to become wealthy or important people - markings by wish everyone else liked to measure success - they had been utterly happy. The days had come with enough tribulations to keep their character's strong and enough joy to see them content in their world. They had been married to their soulmates as far as Hannah was concerned, and the impending advent of their first child had been beyond blissful, in a way that could not be formulated into words.
Now, everything was different.
Isaiah was gone. At sea somewhere in the belly of a ship, the whip at his back and an oar in his hand. Hannah felt bile rise in the back of her mouth at the very thought, pushing the mental images away. She had enough of witnessing her husband in pain and suffering when asleep and her greatest fears manifested into unshakeable nightmares that left a haunted look in her eye for most of the day. She did not need them impeding in the daylight hours or she would not survive.
Trying to keep her mind blank and return the dull, dreamy fog that she had begun to live in for the last eight weeks, Hannah moved through the crowd at the market, sent by her new master to fetch several items that she wasn't very familiar with.
She had written the items down and was intent on showing them to the market stall owners in the hopes of locating the items in question but, so far, she was having little luck. Her Hebrew was good now, and she was more or less fluent, having been in Judea for over a year. But her sudden move to Ammun didn't help given that all cities spoke with a slight dialect or a different turn of phrase. And as she had never been the slave of a metal worker before, she had no familiarity with the items he needed or the names for them, as a native Judean might.
Moving through the crowds, her limbs drawn in to make her frame as slim and small as possible, Hannah was lost in her own daze when she heard a voice call out. The volume was low - she would have likely not heard it at all, had she not been standing so close already - but it was filled with a moment of panic that had Hannah turning immediately in that direction.
Side-stepping a large man with a wooden barrel on his shoulder, Hannah immediately spotted the issue as a young woman was on her hands and knees scrambling of packages that had rolled in every direction, clearly having been loosed from her hands.
Her natural instinct to help, Hannah stepped forwards quickly when she noted the young woman almost have her hand crushed beneath a donkey's step as she recovered the packaged goods. Clearly, they were important to her.
Shoving the piece of linen that she had written on into the folds of her simlah, Hannah bent low to help.
Now at four months in her pregnancy, the swell of her belly could be hidden beneath traditional Judean attire but was enough of a size to hinder her a little as she crouched low to pick up the packages closest to her feet.
As the woman rose a little into a crouch and turned, casting about for the remainder of her property, Hannah offered her a smile - the mask of her mitpahath having fallen in her efforts to retrieve the goods, revealing the face beneath - and held out a small pile of three or four items she had collected together.
"Here." She offered, in a tone of calm and subdued kindness.
Amarissa blushed slightly as the young woman smiled at her. Trying to gather her own skirts and packages, Amarissa rose a bit too quickly and there was a small sound of tearing that voiced the dress' protest at being pulled up and away from her foot which had snagged the hem. Amarissa, preoccupied with her purchases and counting them had missed the sound.
"Thank you!" she said a bit breathlessly as she gratefully accepted the purchases the other woman had snagged for her. "Last minute shopping for Pessach" Amarissa noted with a bit of a weary tone. "Mother insists we must have the best" she uttered and tried to straighten her own mitpahath with a free hand after balancing the purchases in her other. She noticed the woman's very plain clothes and immediately regretted her words. Her mother had always taught her to not sound boastful of their position or blessings. Surely Yahweh would not approve. "I'm sorry," she noted as she offered a hand to the woman who had helped her to make sure she could stand okay. "I didn't mean.." her teenage face seeming uncertain how to properly apologize for her social faux pas.
"Are you also doing last minute shopping for Pessach?" she asked curiously hoping to change the subject. She knew that she should not delay long, mother would be waiting for them and they needed to get home. She glanced over as Mazel hurried to her side. "Are you okay Rissa?" Mazel said with a sisterly type concern. Her clothing, much plainer than Amarissa's would be a clear indicator of the difference in status if not a true picture of their friendship. "Ya, I got bumped and dropped everything and had to save mother's leeks from a donkey and.." she trailed off and glanced back at the young woman who had helped her. "And this wonderful soul helped me." she smiled kindly and hoped she had not offended with her words earlier. "Thank you" she said officially with a respectful dip of her head.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Amarissa blushed slightly as the young woman smiled at her. Trying to gather her own skirts and packages, Amarissa rose a bit too quickly and there was a small sound of tearing that voiced the dress' protest at being pulled up and away from her foot which had snagged the hem. Amarissa, preoccupied with her purchases and counting them had missed the sound.
"Thank you!" she said a bit breathlessly as she gratefully accepted the purchases the other woman had snagged for her. "Last minute shopping for Pessach" Amarissa noted with a bit of a weary tone. "Mother insists we must have the best" she uttered and tried to straighten her own mitpahath with a free hand after balancing the purchases in her other. She noticed the woman's very plain clothes and immediately regretted her words. Her mother had always taught her to not sound boastful of their position or blessings. Surely Yahweh would not approve. "I'm sorry," she noted as she offered a hand to the woman who had helped her to make sure she could stand okay. "I didn't mean.." her teenage face seeming uncertain how to properly apologize for her social faux pas.
"Are you also doing last minute shopping for Pessach?" she asked curiously hoping to change the subject. She knew that she should not delay long, mother would be waiting for them and they needed to get home. She glanced over as Mazel hurried to her side. "Are you okay Rissa?" Mazel said with a sisterly type concern. Her clothing, much plainer than Amarissa's would be a clear indicator of the difference in status if not a true picture of their friendship. "Ya, I got bumped and dropped everything and had to save mother's leeks from a donkey and.." she trailed off and glanced back at the young woman who had helped her. "And this wonderful soul helped me." she smiled kindly and hoped she had not offended with her words earlier. "Thank you" she said officially with a respectful dip of her head.
Amarissa blushed slightly as the young woman smiled at her. Trying to gather her own skirts and packages, Amarissa rose a bit too quickly and there was a small sound of tearing that voiced the dress' protest at being pulled up and away from her foot which had snagged the hem. Amarissa, preoccupied with her purchases and counting them had missed the sound.
"Thank you!" she said a bit breathlessly as she gratefully accepted the purchases the other woman had snagged for her. "Last minute shopping for Pessach" Amarissa noted with a bit of a weary tone. "Mother insists we must have the best" she uttered and tried to straighten her own mitpahath with a free hand after balancing the purchases in her other. She noticed the woman's very plain clothes and immediately regretted her words. Her mother had always taught her to not sound boastful of their position or blessings. Surely Yahweh would not approve. "I'm sorry," she noted as she offered a hand to the woman who had helped her to make sure she could stand okay. "I didn't mean.." her teenage face seeming uncertain how to properly apologize for her social faux pas.
"Are you also doing last minute shopping for Pessach?" she asked curiously hoping to change the subject. She knew that she should not delay long, mother would be waiting for them and they needed to get home. She glanced over as Mazel hurried to her side. "Are you okay Rissa?" Mazel said with a sisterly type concern. Her clothing, much plainer than Amarissa's would be a clear indicator of the difference in status if not a true picture of their friendship. "Ya, I got bumped and dropped everything and had to save mother's leeks from a donkey and.." she trailed off and glanced back at the young woman who had helped her. "And this wonderful soul helped me." she smiled kindly and hoped she had not offended with her words earlier. "Thank you" she said officially with a respectful dip of her head.
Whilst Hannah had a tendency to remain silent when nervous or feeling unaccomplished to handle a situation, this young woman clearly had a tendency to fill such a quiet with rambling words. Whilst they were fractured and broken in meaning, darting from one concern to the next, Hannah never doubted their sincerity. It made her smile. And with the mask of her mitpahath fallen down to swing lightly beneath her chin, the expression was clearly visible.
Born a young woman of a family of wealthy means and noble aspirations, Hannah was more than aware of the desires this woman expressed for her maternal parent. Her mother had always insisted on the very best also. Now, with the hindsight that brought an understanding of the value of money and how coin equated to hard work, Hannah considered it to be her mother's greatest fortune that she had married a man with a business successful enough to support her lavish needs and expensive tastes. Else, it was likely that Hannah would have experienced the taste of poverty long before the last few years.
As such, beyond familiar with the sort of instructions this young girl might have been given when visiting the market place, Hannah took absolutely no offense at the idle chatter the dark-haired woman seemed so embarrassed by a moment later. Her apology only made Hannah smile again - a habit that had been rare in her life as of late - and dip her head. A soft shake of it silently indicated that she had no need to offer such contrition.
When the young woman asked if she was here to purchase the needed food and celebratory resources for Pessach, Hannah's smile dropped away. Pessach was the celebration of freedom. It was to honour the joy and liberty of the Israelites as they were freed from being Egyptian slaves by God's mercy and Moses' guiding ways...
Despite having celebrated the event upon each of her two years so far spent in the Judean lands... she did not feel able to offer up such pass-over rituals when she herself had now become a slave. When her child would be born to slavery.
Saved from having the answer the question, however, Hannah's gaze was distracted when another young woman, dressed similarly to Hannah came to check upon the woman's health. She called the lady 'Rissa' and spoke with her with such familiarity that Hannah assumed her to be a long-standing servant of Rissa's or her family's. No slave would speak to their master in such a tone of compassion, that Hannah could tell.
Tempted to allow herself to melt back into the crowd as the two of them conversed, Hannah's sliding feet were halted by the dialogue coming back around to herself. She looked to the one named Rissa, her eyes wide with surprise that she was being addressed with such a lovely turn of phrase. She felt her throat tighten at the kindness and offered a raised hand and soft shake of her head.
"It was no trouble." She insisted in a soft and demure reply that was appropriate for one of her position.
It was as she dipped her head and lowered her gaze that she spotted a soft tear that ran perhaps six inches up from the hem of the young woman's dress. The simlah she wore had clearly been torn upon her clambering or when she rose to her feet.
"Um... my lady..." She offered, not sure how to appropriately address a woman of station when she was the slave of another. Did she call her master? mistress? What was the appropriate term? She offered a point to the lady's hem, her dominant hand bandaged as normal, as if her last two fingers were curled into her palm beneath the wrappings, only three fingers on show. "I fear that your simlah is torn."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Whilst Hannah had a tendency to remain silent when nervous or feeling unaccomplished to handle a situation, this young woman clearly had a tendency to fill such a quiet with rambling words. Whilst they were fractured and broken in meaning, darting from one concern to the next, Hannah never doubted their sincerity. It made her smile. And with the mask of her mitpahath fallen down to swing lightly beneath her chin, the expression was clearly visible.
Born a young woman of a family of wealthy means and noble aspirations, Hannah was more than aware of the desires this woman expressed for her maternal parent. Her mother had always insisted on the very best also. Now, with the hindsight that brought an understanding of the value of money and how coin equated to hard work, Hannah considered it to be her mother's greatest fortune that she had married a man with a business successful enough to support her lavish needs and expensive tastes. Else, it was likely that Hannah would have experienced the taste of poverty long before the last few years.
As such, beyond familiar with the sort of instructions this young girl might have been given when visiting the market place, Hannah took absolutely no offense at the idle chatter the dark-haired woman seemed so embarrassed by a moment later. Her apology only made Hannah smile again - a habit that had been rare in her life as of late - and dip her head. A soft shake of it silently indicated that she had no need to offer such contrition.
When the young woman asked if she was here to purchase the needed food and celebratory resources for Pessach, Hannah's smile dropped away. Pessach was the celebration of freedom. It was to honour the joy and liberty of the Israelites as they were freed from being Egyptian slaves by God's mercy and Moses' guiding ways...
Despite having celebrated the event upon each of her two years so far spent in the Judean lands... she did not feel able to offer up such pass-over rituals when she herself had now become a slave. When her child would be born to slavery.
Saved from having the answer the question, however, Hannah's gaze was distracted when another young woman, dressed similarly to Hannah came to check upon the woman's health. She called the lady 'Rissa' and spoke with her with such familiarity that Hannah assumed her to be a long-standing servant of Rissa's or her family's. No slave would speak to their master in such a tone of compassion, that Hannah could tell.
Tempted to allow herself to melt back into the crowd as the two of them conversed, Hannah's sliding feet were halted by the dialogue coming back around to herself. She looked to the one named Rissa, her eyes wide with surprise that she was being addressed with such a lovely turn of phrase. She felt her throat tighten at the kindness and offered a raised hand and soft shake of her head.
"It was no trouble." She insisted in a soft and demure reply that was appropriate for one of her position.
It was as she dipped her head and lowered her gaze that she spotted a soft tear that ran perhaps six inches up from the hem of the young woman's dress. The simlah she wore had clearly been torn upon her clambering or when she rose to her feet.
"Um... my lady..." She offered, not sure how to appropriately address a woman of station when she was the slave of another. Did she call her master? mistress? What was the appropriate term? She offered a point to the lady's hem, her dominant hand bandaged as normal, as if her last two fingers were curled into her palm beneath the wrappings, only three fingers on show. "I fear that your simlah is torn."
Whilst Hannah had a tendency to remain silent when nervous or feeling unaccomplished to handle a situation, this young woman clearly had a tendency to fill such a quiet with rambling words. Whilst they were fractured and broken in meaning, darting from one concern to the next, Hannah never doubted their sincerity. It made her smile. And with the mask of her mitpahath fallen down to swing lightly beneath her chin, the expression was clearly visible.
Born a young woman of a family of wealthy means and noble aspirations, Hannah was more than aware of the desires this woman expressed for her maternal parent. Her mother had always insisted on the very best also. Now, with the hindsight that brought an understanding of the value of money and how coin equated to hard work, Hannah considered it to be her mother's greatest fortune that she had married a man with a business successful enough to support her lavish needs and expensive tastes. Else, it was likely that Hannah would have experienced the taste of poverty long before the last few years.
As such, beyond familiar with the sort of instructions this young girl might have been given when visiting the market place, Hannah took absolutely no offense at the idle chatter the dark-haired woman seemed so embarrassed by a moment later. Her apology only made Hannah smile again - a habit that had been rare in her life as of late - and dip her head. A soft shake of it silently indicated that she had no need to offer such contrition.
When the young woman asked if she was here to purchase the needed food and celebratory resources for Pessach, Hannah's smile dropped away. Pessach was the celebration of freedom. It was to honour the joy and liberty of the Israelites as they were freed from being Egyptian slaves by God's mercy and Moses' guiding ways...
Despite having celebrated the event upon each of her two years so far spent in the Judean lands... she did not feel able to offer up such pass-over rituals when she herself had now become a slave. When her child would be born to slavery.
Saved from having the answer the question, however, Hannah's gaze was distracted when another young woman, dressed similarly to Hannah came to check upon the woman's health. She called the lady 'Rissa' and spoke with her with such familiarity that Hannah assumed her to be a long-standing servant of Rissa's or her family's. No slave would speak to their master in such a tone of compassion, that Hannah could tell.
Tempted to allow herself to melt back into the crowd as the two of them conversed, Hannah's sliding feet were halted by the dialogue coming back around to herself. She looked to the one named Rissa, her eyes wide with surprise that she was being addressed with such a lovely turn of phrase. She felt her throat tighten at the kindness and offered a raised hand and soft shake of her head.
"It was no trouble." She insisted in a soft and demure reply that was appropriate for one of her position.
It was as she dipped her head and lowered her gaze that she spotted a soft tear that ran perhaps six inches up from the hem of the young woman's dress. The simlah she wore had clearly been torn upon her clambering or when she rose to her feet.
"Um... my lady..." She offered, not sure how to appropriately address a woman of station when she was the slave of another. Did she call her master? mistress? What was the appropriate term? She offered a point to the lady's hem, her dominant hand bandaged as normal, as if her last two fingers were curled into her palm beneath the wrappings, only three fingers on show. "I fear that your simlah is torn."
Amarissa did not miss the soft smile, the kind look of surprise at being addressed. She wondered briefly what life this woman had lived so far? Was she really so surprised by the kindness of a noble woman? Perhaps she had lived around nobles more like Amarissa's cousins. She shuddered to think how they treated their servants.
"Well, it was welcome none the less" Amarissa assured and was working on arranging the packages so that they were more easily carried when the young woman pointed out the rip in her hem. "What?" Amarissa said quickly, not angry but clearly concerned. She handed off the packages to Mazel and quickly pulled up her skirt to see the offending rip that this young woman was pointing out.
"Oh nooo" she said with regret and dread in her voice. Her mother would kill her. "No, no, no this is Gali's no..." she faded off and looked at Mazel with panic. "What am I going to tell mother?" Amarissa's skill with the needle were, less than ideal and Mazel's were not much better. They were certainly passable but Amarissa's skill laid more with paints and clay. Thread and cloth always seemed so fragile.
Rishona would be furious that she had been so careless. And her father? To damage such a beautiful dress of his first wife. And her brothers? She was truly a failure and would bring them shame. She considered how to sneak back in but surely mother would be watching for her. Perhaps she could send Mazel? She looked between her companion and their new friend with panic in her eyes and no clue how to proceed.
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Amarissa did not miss the soft smile, the kind look of surprise at being addressed. She wondered briefly what life this woman had lived so far? Was she really so surprised by the kindness of a noble woman? Perhaps she had lived around nobles more like Amarissa's cousins. She shuddered to think how they treated their servants.
"Well, it was welcome none the less" Amarissa assured and was working on arranging the packages so that they were more easily carried when the young woman pointed out the rip in her hem. "What?" Amarissa said quickly, not angry but clearly concerned. She handed off the packages to Mazel and quickly pulled up her skirt to see the offending rip that this young woman was pointing out.
"Oh nooo" she said with regret and dread in her voice. Her mother would kill her. "No, no, no this is Gali's no..." she faded off and looked at Mazel with panic. "What am I going to tell mother?" Amarissa's skill with the needle were, less than ideal and Mazel's were not much better. They were certainly passable but Amarissa's skill laid more with paints and clay. Thread and cloth always seemed so fragile.
Rishona would be furious that she had been so careless. And her father? To damage such a beautiful dress of his first wife. And her brothers? She was truly a failure and would bring them shame. She considered how to sneak back in but surely mother would be watching for her. Perhaps she could send Mazel? She looked between her companion and their new friend with panic in her eyes and no clue how to proceed.
Amarissa did not miss the soft smile, the kind look of surprise at being addressed. She wondered briefly what life this woman had lived so far? Was she really so surprised by the kindness of a noble woman? Perhaps she had lived around nobles more like Amarissa's cousins. She shuddered to think how they treated their servants.
"Well, it was welcome none the less" Amarissa assured and was working on arranging the packages so that they were more easily carried when the young woman pointed out the rip in her hem. "What?" Amarissa said quickly, not angry but clearly concerned. She handed off the packages to Mazel and quickly pulled up her skirt to see the offending rip that this young woman was pointing out.
"Oh nooo" she said with regret and dread in her voice. Her mother would kill her. "No, no, no this is Gali's no..." she faded off and looked at Mazel with panic. "What am I going to tell mother?" Amarissa's skill with the needle were, less than ideal and Mazel's were not much better. They were certainly passable but Amarissa's skill laid more with paints and clay. Thread and cloth always seemed so fragile.
Rishona would be furious that she had been so careless. And her father? To damage such a beautiful dress of his first wife. And her brothers? She was truly a failure and would bring them shame. She considered how to sneak back in but surely mother would be watching for her. Perhaps she could send Mazel? She looked between her companion and their new friend with panic in her eyes and no clue how to proceed.
Hannah's eyes drifted wide at the young woman's reaction to her news. She had simply meant to lend the woman an easy notice of the offending damage to the article of clothing. Surely, a wealthy young woman of easy means would be able to replace the garment easily enough. Why was the drama so severe, the panic so heightened in her features?
The young slave felt warmth bloom in her cheeks, naturally feeling blame for inspiring such concern and tension in the woman who had been nothing but kind to her so far. She had been attempting to return the favour with an act of charity herself, only to have sent the young lady into a downward spiral of worry. She was immediately contrite, pale fingertips lifting to brush at her lips, as if she hoped to draw the information back between them and reverse the damage she had done to the young woman's serenity.
Licking at her lip with a gesture of nervousness and reaching out a moment with her bandaged hand to draw attention, she neither touched nor offered direct eye contact with the lady - for that was not done by a slave, she had been quick to learn - but spoke with a calming and mature tone of voice that she hoped with sooth the panic she had stoked.
"Peace, please, my Lady." She offered the woman, her language accurate and her accent that of Israel. She offered a gladdening smile. "It is but a slight tear. And is it along the seam, do you see?" She gestured towards the young woman's ankles, where her socks were clearly on view. Scandalous had there been anyone else looking their way. "It requires but a little stitching and the repair will be invisible, I assure you." She glanced hopefully at the young woman's servant - for surely the she would have the domestic skills required to look after a lady of merit and would be able to fix the robe? Hannah had been introduced only in the last year to all the tasks required of a domestic wife to her now absent husband but she could stitch well enough and see that the issue was easy to correct...
She tried to offer a comforting and assuring expression to the one named 'Rissa' and had no notion of just how calming her words would truly be. For while Hannah considered her life to have been spent in useless frivolity when she had gone by the name of Hypatia, she had never lost that soft and charming aura that came with a young girl able to charm and please those around her from all walks of life...
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Hannah's eyes drifted wide at the young woman's reaction to her news. She had simply meant to lend the woman an easy notice of the offending damage to the article of clothing. Surely, a wealthy young woman of easy means would be able to replace the garment easily enough. Why was the drama so severe, the panic so heightened in her features?
The young slave felt warmth bloom in her cheeks, naturally feeling blame for inspiring such concern and tension in the woman who had been nothing but kind to her so far. She had been attempting to return the favour with an act of charity herself, only to have sent the young lady into a downward spiral of worry. She was immediately contrite, pale fingertips lifting to brush at her lips, as if she hoped to draw the information back between them and reverse the damage she had done to the young woman's serenity.
Licking at her lip with a gesture of nervousness and reaching out a moment with her bandaged hand to draw attention, she neither touched nor offered direct eye contact with the lady - for that was not done by a slave, she had been quick to learn - but spoke with a calming and mature tone of voice that she hoped with sooth the panic she had stoked.
"Peace, please, my Lady." She offered the woman, her language accurate and her accent that of Israel. She offered a gladdening smile. "It is but a slight tear. And is it along the seam, do you see?" She gestured towards the young woman's ankles, where her socks were clearly on view. Scandalous had there been anyone else looking their way. "It requires but a little stitching and the repair will be invisible, I assure you." She glanced hopefully at the young woman's servant - for surely the she would have the domestic skills required to look after a lady of merit and would be able to fix the robe? Hannah had been introduced only in the last year to all the tasks required of a domestic wife to her now absent husband but she could stitch well enough and see that the issue was easy to correct...
She tried to offer a comforting and assuring expression to the one named 'Rissa' and had no notion of just how calming her words would truly be. For while Hannah considered her life to have been spent in useless frivolity when she had gone by the name of Hypatia, she had never lost that soft and charming aura that came with a young girl able to charm and please those around her from all walks of life...
Hannah's eyes drifted wide at the young woman's reaction to her news. She had simply meant to lend the woman an easy notice of the offending damage to the article of clothing. Surely, a wealthy young woman of easy means would be able to replace the garment easily enough. Why was the drama so severe, the panic so heightened in her features?
The young slave felt warmth bloom in her cheeks, naturally feeling blame for inspiring such concern and tension in the woman who had been nothing but kind to her so far. She had been attempting to return the favour with an act of charity herself, only to have sent the young lady into a downward spiral of worry. She was immediately contrite, pale fingertips lifting to brush at her lips, as if she hoped to draw the information back between them and reverse the damage she had done to the young woman's serenity.
Licking at her lip with a gesture of nervousness and reaching out a moment with her bandaged hand to draw attention, she neither touched nor offered direct eye contact with the lady - for that was not done by a slave, she had been quick to learn - but spoke with a calming and mature tone of voice that she hoped with sooth the panic she had stoked.
"Peace, please, my Lady." She offered the woman, her language accurate and her accent that of Israel. She offered a gladdening smile. "It is but a slight tear. And is it along the seam, do you see?" She gestured towards the young woman's ankles, where her socks were clearly on view. Scandalous had there been anyone else looking their way. "It requires but a little stitching and the repair will be invisible, I assure you." She glanced hopefully at the young woman's servant - for surely the she would have the domestic skills required to look after a lady of merit and would be able to fix the robe? Hannah had been introduced only in the last year to all the tasks required of a domestic wife to her now absent husband but she could stitch well enough and see that the issue was easy to correct...
She tried to offer a comforting and assuring expression to the one named 'Rissa' and had no notion of just how calming her words would truly be. For while Hannah considered her life to have been spent in useless frivolity when she had gone by the name of Hypatia, she had never lost that soft and charming aura that came with a young girl able to charm and please those around her from all walks of life...
Amarissa was trying to figure out what she could possibly tell her mother and father if they discovered the rip when her new friend's calming voice came over her. Peace. Yes peace and clear thinking were good. She looked worriedly as the woman pointed out the ease of repair for the rip and considered her words. She was right, the rip would be easy enough, her or Mazel could probably accomplish it but their stitches would surely be seen if the dress was ever inspected.
She considered the young woman beside her and an idea began to form. "I am terribly sorry to ask but... are you skilled with a needle and thread? Would your stitches be able to blend with the original maker's?"
Mazel exchanged a look with Amarissa, this woman was a stranger. Besides surely she had her own preparations to attend to. Even though this woman was of lower class than they, she was still older than them and deserving of respect, surely Amarissa was not considering burdening her with fixing this dress.
"I would pay you, of course" Amarissa assured after a moment realizing the woman might not want to admit to her skill if it would be taken advantage of by someone of Amarissa's standing.
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Amarissa was trying to figure out what she could possibly tell her mother and father if they discovered the rip when her new friend's calming voice came over her. Peace. Yes peace and clear thinking were good. She looked worriedly as the woman pointed out the ease of repair for the rip and considered her words. She was right, the rip would be easy enough, her or Mazel could probably accomplish it but their stitches would surely be seen if the dress was ever inspected.
She considered the young woman beside her and an idea began to form. "I am terribly sorry to ask but... are you skilled with a needle and thread? Would your stitches be able to blend with the original maker's?"
Mazel exchanged a look with Amarissa, this woman was a stranger. Besides surely she had her own preparations to attend to. Even though this woman was of lower class than they, she was still older than them and deserving of respect, surely Amarissa was not considering burdening her with fixing this dress.
"I would pay you, of course" Amarissa assured after a moment realizing the woman might not want to admit to her skill if it would be taken advantage of by someone of Amarissa's standing.
Amarissa was trying to figure out what she could possibly tell her mother and father if they discovered the rip when her new friend's calming voice came over her. Peace. Yes peace and clear thinking were good. She looked worriedly as the woman pointed out the ease of repair for the rip and considered her words. She was right, the rip would be easy enough, her or Mazel could probably accomplish it but their stitches would surely be seen if the dress was ever inspected.
She considered the young woman beside her and an idea began to form. "I am terribly sorry to ask but... are you skilled with a needle and thread? Would your stitches be able to blend with the original maker's?"
Mazel exchanged a look with Amarissa, this woman was a stranger. Besides surely she had her own preparations to attend to. Even though this woman was of lower class than they, she was still older than them and deserving of respect, surely Amarissa was not considering burdening her with fixing this dress.
"I would pay you, of course" Amarissa assured after a moment realizing the woman might not want to admit to her skill if it would be taken advantage of by someone of Amarissa's standing.
Hannah had not made the offered to help with any intention of the exchange of money. She genuinely had meant what she said that the distress to the gown was easily rectified with a little stitching and had sought only to calm this whom who was clearly so very worried as to the reaction her family would make of the damage that had been done to the garment. For, surely, this young woman was of a family rich enough that she would have a servant skilled in sewing who might correct the fault and ensure that no disaster came of the simple tumble the two of them had taken in the market.
With the glances between the woman Hannah had assumed to be noble and the young servant girl that attended upon her, it was quick to the perceptive to see that this was not the case. Or rather, that anyone who might be able to mend the simlah would be at risk of revealing its need to be fixed in the first place to those whom this 'Rissa' wished to keep in the dark. Those who could be loyal in their silence perhaps amounted to only the two of them, neither of whom looked confident in their skills of being able to fix the dress.
When the request was then finally put to Hannah, that she might complete the task in their stead, the slave girl was immediately worried. For, as a slave, she was unable to refuse an instruction from a freeman - let alone one of noble status - and yet she also wasn't a hundred percent certain upon her skills with a needle. She had learnt to sew when it had become obvious that her heart's desire was to marry the man she loved - a man who would come with no servants or slaves to complete such work for her. She had worked hard to honour the skill and develop it to a standard that she might be able to sell such work for, to provide a little more coin into their family to support the blooming advent of their child. Yet, she was not certain that she could complete even a simple task to the level of perfection this woman might expect from her.
Yet, what choice did she have but to acquiesce to such an entreaty. Swallowing, Hannah smiled, her pouting baby curled lips offering a look of encouragement and sincerity.
"I can certainly try, my Lady." She offered to the woman, her hand slipping the piece of parchment that she had been struggling to read into her pocket. For she knew her master to be of lower rank than this fine woman which meant the simlah came before the errands she had been given. Yet, she would not be able to repair the dress whilst the lady still wore it. And she could not disrobe within the market place. "If..." Hannah seemed a little nervous in how she was to present this next obstacle. "...if we might find somewhere that I could take the garment from you? I think I will need to reverse the fabric if I am to keep the stitching hidden?" Which she could not do while it was still worn.
Hannah held her breath in the hopes that the woman would have a solution for this issue, for she could not take the one known as 'Rissa' back to her master's metal shop. It would be neither the appropriate nor possible venue for the repairs that needed doing to her raiment. Not to mention the fact that she would not be able to return their empty-handed from her errands.
But despite all punishment that might await her for returning back to her owner later than ordered, Hannah could not resist the allure of a little coin - coin that she was forbidden from earning as a slave and that she so desperately wished for in order to save for the arrival of her child...
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Hannah had not made the offered to help with any intention of the exchange of money. She genuinely had meant what she said that the distress to the gown was easily rectified with a little stitching and had sought only to calm this whom who was clearly so very worried as to the reaction her family would make of the damage that had been done to the garment. For, surely, this young woman was of a family rich enough that she would have a servant skilled in sewing who might correct the fault and ensure that no disaster came of the simple tumble the two of them had taken in the market.
With the glances between the woman Hannah had assumed to be noble and the young servant girl that attended upon her, it was quick to the perceptive to see that this was not the case. Or rather, that anyone who might be able to mend the simlah would be at risk of revealing its need to be fixed in the first place to those whom this 'Rissa' wished to keep in the dark. Those who could be loyal in their silence perhaps amounted to only the two of them, neither of whom looked confident in their skills of being able to fix the dress.
When the request was then finally put to Hannah, that she might complete the task in their stead, the slave girl was immediately worried. For, as a slave, she was unable to refuse an instruction from a freeman - let alone one of noble status - and yet she also wasn't a hundred percent certain upon her skills with a needle. She had learnt to sew when it had become obvious that her heart's desire was to marry the man she loved - a man who would come with no servants or slaves to complete such work for her. She had worked hard to honour the skill and develop it to a standard that she might be able to sell such work for, to provide a little more coin into their family to support the blooming advent of their child. Yet, she was not certain that she could complete even a simple task to the level of perfection this woman might expect from her.
Yet, what choice did she have but to acquiesce to such an entreaty. Swallowing, Hannah smiled, her pouting baby curled lips offering a look of encouragement and sincerity.
"I can certainly try, my Lady." She offered to the woman, her hand slipping the piece of parchment that she had been struggling to read into her pocket. For she knew her master to be of lower rank than this fine woman which meant the simlah came before the errands she had been given. Yet, she would not be able to repair the dress whilst the lady still wore it. And she could not disrobe within the market place. "If..." Hannah seemed a little nervous in how she was to present this next obstacle. "...if we might find somewhere that I could take the garment from you? I think I will need to reverse the fabric if I am to keep the stitching hidden?" Which she could not do while it was still worn.
Hannah held her breath in the hopes that the woman would have a solution for this issue, for she could not take the one known as 'Rissa' back to her master's metal shop. It would be neither the appropriate nor possible venue for the repairs that needed doing to her raiment. Not to mention the fact that she would not be able to return their empty-handed from her errands.
But despite all punishment that might await her for returning back to her owner later than ordered, Hannah could not resist the allure of a little coin - coin that she was forbidden from earning as a slave and that she so desperately wished for in order to save for the arrival of her child...
Hannah had not made the offered to help with any intention of the exchange of money. She genuinely had meant what she said that the distress to the gown was easily rectified with a little stitching and had sought only to calm this whom who was clearly so very worried as to the reaction her family would make of the damage that had been done to the garment. For, surely, this young woman was of a family rich enough that she would have a servant skilled in sewing who might correct the fault and ensure that no disaster came of the simple tumble the two of them had taken in the market.
With the glances between the woman Hannah had assumed to be noble and the young servant girl that attended upon her, it was quick to the perceptive to see that this was not the case. Or rather, that anyone who might be able to mend the simlah would be at risk of revealing its need to be fixed in the first place to those whom this 'Rissa' wished to keep in the dark. Those who could be loyal in their silence perhaps amounted to only the two of them, neither of whom looked confident in their skills of being able to fix the dress.
When the request was then finally put to Hannah, that she might complete the task in their stead, the slave girl was immediately worried. For, as a slave, she was unable to refuse an instruction from a freeman - let alone one of noble status - and yet she also wasn't a hundred percent certain upon her skills with a needle. She had learnt to sew when it had become obvious that her heart's desire was to marry the man she loved - a man who would come with no servants or slaves to complete such work for her. She had worked hard to honour the skill and develop it to a standard that she might be able to sell such work for, to provide a little more coin into their family to support the blooming advent of their child. Yet, she was not certain that she could complete even a simple task to the level of perfection this woman might expect from her.
Yet, what choice did she have but to acquiesce to such an entreaty. Swallowing, Hannah smiled, her pouting baby curled lips offering a look of encouragement and sincerity.
"I can certainly try, my Lady." She offered to the woman, her hand slipping the piece of parchment that she had been struggling to read into her pocket. For she knew her master to be of lower rank than this fine woman which meant the simlah came before the errands she had been given. Yet, she would not be able to repair the dress whilst the lady still wore it. And she could not disrobe within the market place. "If..." Hannah seemed a little nervous in how she was to present this next obstacle. "...if we might find somewhere that I could take the garment from you? I think I will need to reverse the fabric if I am to keep the stitching hidden?" Which she could not do while it was still worn.
Hannah held her breath in the hopes that the woman would have a solution for this issue, for she could not take the one known as 'Rissa' back to her master's metal shop. It would be neither the appropriate nor possible venue for the repairs that needed doing to her raiment. Not to mention the fact that she would not be able to return their empty-handed from her errands.
But despite all punishment that might await her for returning back to her owner later than ordered, Hannah could not resist the allure of a little coin - coin that she was forbidden from earning as a slave and that she so desperately wished for in order to save for the arrival of her child...
The young woman's suspicions were quite true in fact. If they told anyone back home of what had happened, word would undoubtedly reach either Amarissa's mother or father and that was not something the young teenager was willing to risk.
When the young woman agreed Amarissa smiled broadly and visibly relaxed, Mazel however was not thrilled with the arrangement. As a servant herself she knew from the woman's clothes that surely she had her own master to serve and Amarissa's mistake would bring undue hardship upon her. But there was little she could do given her own status but merely look around for a place they could discretely fix the garment.
"Here, this way" she said as she touched Amarissa's arm and nodded her head in the direction of a merchant family she knew well. Their home was not far from where their stand was set up and she was good friends with their daughter. They would have a room in the back for trying on clothes and fitting garments. Privacy and discretion were easily achievable there.
Amarissa's relief increased as Mazel led the way. She thought the other girl might be obstinate about the whole thing given the look she'd received from her but Amarissa was most pleased that they were now receiving her help instead.
She waited with the young woman they had met while Mazel spoke in hushed whispers with the daughter of the merchant and found herself in a somewhat awkward silence. "I'm Amarissa by the way" she noted gently. "Are you from Ammun?"
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The young woman's suspicions were quite true in fact. If they told anyone back home of what had happened, word would undoubtedly reach either Amarissa's mother or father and that was not something the young teenager was willing to risk.
When the young woman agreed Amarissa smiled broadly and visibly relaxed, Mazel however was not thrilled with the arrangement. As a servant herself she knew from the woman's clothes that surely she had her own master to serve and Amarissa's mistake would bring undue hardship upon her. But there was little she could do given her own status but merely look around for a place they could discretely fix the garment.
"Here, this way" she said as she touched Amarissa's arm and nodded her head in the direction of a merchant family she knew well. Their home was not far from where their stand was set up and she was good friends with their daughter. They would have a room in the back for trying on clothes and fitting garments. Privacy and discretion were easily achievable there.
Amarissa's relief increased as Mazel led the way. She thought the other girl might be obstinate about the whole thing given the look she'd received from her but Amarissa was most pleased that they were now receiving her help instead.
She waited with the young woman they had met while Mazel spoke in hushed whispers with the daughter of the merchant and found herself in a somewhat awkward silence. "I'm Amarissa by the way" she noted gently. "Are you from Ammun?"
The young woman's suspicions were quite true in fact. If they told anyone back home of what had happened, word would undoubtedly reach either Amarissa's mother or father and that was not something the young teenager was willing to risk.
When the young woman agreed Amarissa smiled broadly and visibly relaxed, Mazel however was not thrilled with the arrangement. As a servant herself she knew from the woman's clothes that surely she had her own master to serve and Amarissa's mistake would bring undue hardship upon her. But there was little she could do given her own status but merely look around for a place they could discretely fix the garment.
"Here, this way" she said as she touched Amarissa's arm and nodded her head in the direction of a merchant family she knew well. Their home was not far from where their stand was set up and she was good friends with their daughter. They would have a room in the back for trying on clothes and fitting garments. Privacy and discretion were easily achievable there.
Amarissa's relief increased as Mazel led the way. She thought the other girl might be obstinate about the whole thing given the look she'd received from her but Amarissa was most pleased that they were now receiving her help instead.
She waited with the young woman they had met while Mazel spoke in hushed whispers with the daughter of the merchant and found herself in a somewhat awkward silence. "I'm Amarissa by the way" she noted gently. "Are you from Ammun?"
It was not Hannah's place to try to direct or determine where their small, little party might now go in order to seek the privacy required to repair the article of clothing that the young girl had torn. It was not within the rights of her station to insist, nor to suggest, for to say anything to the finely dressed lady before her might be considered (by the more obstinate of the slave laws) to be a suggestion of intellectual supremacy on her part. Whilst she might risk a little disquiet from her master for a task taking longer than promised, she would not risk the full disgrace that a complaint against her from a noble woman might create. She had never had cause to be flogged as a slave and she did not wish to experience it now.
When the servant of the girl suggested a place that she knew, however, it was easy enough to follow suit. Removed of the responsibility for suggesting a solution to the problem she had noted, Hannah was quick to smile, her eyes narrowing behind the mask she had refastened into place and nod, her encouragement of the idea well enough to make her intentions clear.
Following in the wake of the two women, Hannah kept her little list of required provisions inside the folds of her simlah and ensured that her head was bent as she doggedly followed the footsteps of those considered to be her betters. She did not look around, nor attempt to step ahead of them but walked with a demure and elegant grace that was out of place with her vision as a slave and shadowed them into the back room of a merchant's store full of cloth and fabric.
With rolls of colour lining the walls, each with a different hue and texture, as one after another was topped with differing materials, Hannah was reminded of an older life where she would visit such stores with her mother and decide upon the colours of the fine silks and the golden intricacies that would accompany them. The sheets of textile upon these walls would form far more covering, thicker and more 'respectable' clothing in the eyes of the Hebrews but the store itself was very familiar in the way that it was laid out and the rooms that were cordoned off for trying on certain outfits.
It was here that the young girl, Amarissa, introduced herself and asked as to Hannah's origin.
"I am Hannah of-. I am Hannah." She offered in return, no longer able to give her connection to a man serving in the galleys for sedition and assault. "And no..." What was she to say? That she was Greek? Would this young woman take away her offer of coin for the task ahead, tell her to leave? "I lived in Israel before now." The words were as close to the truth as she could muster without fear of repercussions and Hannah looked away as the noble woman was permitted inside the changing chamber...
Hannah hesitated outside of the room, waiting to be called in. Depending on the layout of the young woman's clothing she may have been wearing underlayers that would ensure her modesty whilst Hannah put together the item. But if not, then they would have to converse through the door so that Amarissa's privacy was maintained despite her nudity.
Looking around, Hannah tried to locate a thread and needle that she might be able to use in repairing the raiment of the young woman, nervous of what it was she might be allowed to use and what was not permitted for a slave to touch. She glanced upon the serving lady that accompanied the one called Rissa, for she seemed to know the owner of the store at least.
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It was not Hannah's place to try to direct or determine where their small, little party might now go in order to seek the privacy required to repair the article of clothing that the young girl had torn. It was not within the rights of her station to insist, nor to suggest, for to say anything to the finely dressed lady before her might be considered (by the more obstinate of the slave laws) to be a suggestion of intellectual supremacy on her part. Whilst she might risk a little disquiet from her master for a task taking longer than promised, she would not risk the full disgrace that a complaint against her from a noble woman might create. She had never had cause to be flogged as a slave and she did not wish to experience it now.
When the servant of the girl suggested a place that she knew, however, it was easy enough to follow suit. Removed of the responsibility for suggesting a solution to the problem she had noted, Hannah was quick to smile, her eyes narrowing behind the mask she had refastened into place and nod, her encouragement of the idea well enough to make her intentions clear.
Following in the wake of the two women, Hannah kept her little list of required provisions inside the folds of her simlah and ensured that her head was bent as she doggedly followed the footsteps of those considered to be her betters. She did not look around, nor attempt to step ahead of them but walked with a demure and elegant grace that was out of place with her vision as a slave and shadowed them into the back room of a merchant's store full of cloth and fabric.
With rolls of colour lining the walls, each with a different hue and texture, as one after another was topped with differing materials, Hannah was reminded of an older life where she would visit such stores with her mother and decide upon the colours of the fine silks and the golden intricacies that would accompany them. The sheets of textile upon these walls would form far more covering, thicker and more 'respectable' clothing in the eyes of the Hebrews but the store itself was very familiar in the way that it was laid out and the rooms that were cordoned off for trying on certain outfits.
It was here that the young girl, Amarissa, introduced herself and asked as to Hannah's origin.
"I am Hannah of-. I am Hannah." She offered in return, no longer able to give her connection to a man serving in the galleys for sedition and assault. "And no..." What was she to say? That she was Greek? Would this young woman take away her offer of coin for the task ahead, tell her to leave? "I lived in Israel before now." The words were as close to the truth as she could muster without fear of repercussions and Hannah looked away as the noble woman was permitted inside the changing chamber...
Hannah hesitated outside of the room, waiting to be called in. Depending on the layout of the young woman's clothing she may have been wearing underlayers that would ensure her modesty whilst Hannah put together the item. But if not, then they would have to converse through the door so that Amarissa's privacy was maintained despite her nudity.
Looking around, Hannah tried to locate a thread and needle that she might be able to use in repairing the raiment of the young woman, nervous of what it was she might be allowed to use and what was not permitted for a slave to touch. She glanced upon the serving lady that accompanied the one called Rissa, for she seemed to know the owner of the store at least.
It was not Hannah's place to try to direct or determine where their small, little party might now go in order to seek the privacy required to repair the article of clothing that the young girl had torn. It was not within the rights of her station to insist, nor to suggest, for to say anything to the finely dressed lady before her might be considered (by the more obstinate of the slave laws) to be a suggestion of intellectual supremacy on her part. Whilst she might risk a little disquiet from her master for a task taking longer than promised, she would not risk the full disgrace that a complaint against her from a noble woman might create. She had never had cause to be flogged as a slave and she did not wish to experience it now.
When the servant of the girl suggested a place that she knew, however, it was easy enough to follow suit. Removed of the responsibility for suggesting a solution to the problem she had noted, Hannah was quick to smile, her eyes narrowing behind the mask she had refastened into place and nod, her encouragement of the idea well enough to make her intentions clear.
Following in the wake of the two women, Hannah kept her little list of required provisions inside the folds of her simlah and ensured that her head was bent as she doggedly followed the footsteps of those considered to be her betters. She did not look around, nor attempt to step ahead of them but walked with a demure and elegant grace that was out of place with her vision as a slave and shadowed them into the back room of a merchant's store full of cloth and fabric.
With rolls of colour lining the walls, each with a different hue and texture, as one after another was topped with differing materials, Hannah was reminded of an older life where she would visit such stores with her mother and decide upon the colours of the fine silks and the golden intricacies that would accompany them. The sheets of textile upon these walls would form far more covering, thicker and more 'respectable' clothing in the eyes of the Hebrews but the store itself was very familiar in the way that it was laid out and the rooms that were cordoned off for trying on certain outfits.
It was here that the young girl, Amarissa, introduced herself and asked as to Hannah's origin.
"I am Hannah of-. I am Hannah." She offered in return, no longer able to give her connection to a man serving in the galleys for sedition and assault. "And no..." What was she to say? That she was Greek? Would this young woman take away her offer of coin for the task ahead, tell her to leave? "I lived in Israel before now." The words were as close to the truth as she could muster without fear of repercussions and Hannah looked away as the noble woman was permitted inside the changing chamber...
Hannah hesitated outside of the room, waiting to be called in. Depending on the layout of the young woman's clothing she may have been wearing underlayers that would ensure her modesty whilst Hannah put together the item. But if not, then they would have to converse through the door so that Amarissa's privacy was maintained despite her nudity.
Looking around, Hannah tried to locate a thread and needle that she might be able to use in repairing the raiment of the young woman, nervous of what it was she might be allowed to use and what was not permitted for a slave to touch. She glanced upon the serving lady that accompanied the one called Rissa, for she seemed to know the owner of the store at least.
Amarissa's eyes grew curious as the woman stumbled a bit over her name and then settled on a very neutral explanation of her origins. It was odd since many Hebrews were outright proud of their birthplace. Perhaps she was born abroad or in Samaria or something like that. No matter, she did not seem like a person of ill repute and she'd been kind enough to agree to fix the dress. Where her origins lied and her feelings around them had no effect on that.
Amarissa smiled encouragingly instead and nodded. "Well a pleasure to meet you Hannah. That is Mazel, she is my frie..." Amarissa paused and smiled slightly embarrassed. "Her mother is my family's serv.." she trailed off again. Neither really sounded right nor accurately described the complicated reality of their relationship. She smiled awkwardly instead and was thankfully saved by Mazel returning and ushering them into the house proper and back room. A small fitting area was set up with large expensive rugs acting as curtains all around it for privacy.
Amarissa slipped in and worked on removing her outer layer which was Gali's dress and Mazel fidgeted around, waiting with Hannah. When she noticed Hannah carefully glancing around, she thought for a moment the young woman was in wonder of the home as many would be, but then she realized they had not provided her with thread. "Oh!" she said suddenly and scurried off again in search of the needed items.
Amarissa carefully folded the dress and peeked out from behind the curtains. She was decent enough for female company, but if any males happened by, she'd need to dive back behind the curtains. Somewhat shyly she emerged with only her underlayer dress on and carefully handed Gali's dress to Hannah. "Thank you, it was.." she paused. "This dress was my brothers' mother's." she said softly.
The awkward moment was soon gone as Mazel scurried back in with matching thread, a small tailor's knife to cut it and a thin bone needle. "Here, my friend said you could use these" she said as she gave them to the young woman they had met.
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Amarissa's eyes grew curious as the woman stumbled a bit over her name and then settled on a very neutral explanation of her origins. It was odd since many Hebrews were outright proud of their birthplace. Perhaps she was born abroad or in Samaria or something like that. No matter, she did not seem like a person of ill repute and she'd been kind enough to agree to fix the dress. Where her origins lied and her feelings around them had no effect on that.
Amarissa smiled encouragingly instead and nodded. "Well a pleasure to meet you Hannah. That is Mazel, she is my frie..." Amarissa paused and smiled slightly embarrassed. "Her mother is my family's serv.." she trailed off again. Neither really sounded right nor accurately described the complicated reality of their relationship. She smiled awkwardly instead and was thankfully saved by Mazel returning and ushering them into the house proper and back room. A small fitting area was set up with large expensive rugs acting as curtains all around it for privacy.
Amarissa slipped in and worked on removing her outer layer which was Gali's dress and Mazel fidgeted around, waiting with Hannah. When she noticed Hannah carefully glancing around, she thought for a moment the young woman was in wonder of the home as many would be, but then she realized they had not provided her with thread. "Oh!" she said suddenly and scurried off again in search of the needed items.
Amarissa carefully folded the dress and peeked out from behind the curtains. She was decent enough for female company, but if any males happened by, she'd need to dive back behind the curtains. Somewhat shyly she emerged with only her underlayer dress on and carefully handed Gali's dress to Hannah. "Thank you, it was.." she paused. "This dress was my brothers' mother's." she said softly.
The awkward moment was soon gone as Mazel scurried back in with matching thread, a small tailor's knife to cut it and a thin bone needle. "Here, my friend said you could use these" she said as she gave them to the young woman they had met.
Amarissa's eyes grew curious as the woman stumbled a bit over her name and then settled on a very neutral explanation of her origins. It was odd since many Hebrews were outright proud of their birthplace. Perhaps she was born abroad or in Samaria or something like that. No matter, she did not seem like a person of ill repute and she'd been kind enough to agree to fix the dress. Where her origins lied and her feelings around them had no effect on that.
Amarissa smiled encouragingly instead and nodded. "Well a pleasure to meet you Hannah. That is Mazel, she is my frie..." Amarissa paused and smiled slightly embarrassed. "Her mother is my family's serv.." she trailed off again. Neither really sounded right nor accurately described the complicated reality of their relationship. She smiled awkwardly instead and was thankfully saved by Mazel returning and ushering them into the house proper and back room. A small fitting area was set up with large expensive rugs acting as curtains all around it for privacy.
Amarissa slipped in and worked on removing her outer layer which was Gali's dress and Mazel fidgeted around, waiting with Hannah. When she noticed Hannah carefully glancing around, she thought for a moment the young woman was in wonder of the home as many would be, but then she realized they had not provided her with thread. "Oh!" she said suddenly and scurried off again in search of the needed items.
Amarissa carefully folded the dress and peeked out from behind the curtains. She was decent enough for female company, but if any males happened by, she'd need to dive back behind the curtains. Somewhat shyly she emerged with only her underlayer dress on and carefully handed Gali's dress to Hannah. "Thank you, it was.." she paused. "This dress was my brothers' mother's." she said softly.
The awkward moment was soon gone as Mazel scurried back in with matching thread, a small tailor's knife to cut it and a thin bone needle. "Here, my friend said you could use these" she said as she gave them to the young woman they had met.
When the young lady introduced her companion, Hannah realised that she had made an error with their names. For the noble lady before her was named Amarissa - or Rissa for short - and the serving girl was by the name of Mazel. Thanking whatever spirits were listening that she had not spoken to them in direct form as yet, utilising the wrong address for the wrong person and embarrassing herself in the process, Hannah smile softly when the young woman tried to explain the relation between herself and the girl that was in her company.
Reaching up, Hannah removed the front of her mitzpahath now that they were inside and smiled softly, admitting that the girl knew her to be different by now but may mistake her fair colouring for evidence of her birth elsewhere. She seemed perhaps slightly sheltered in her knowledge of the other Judean provinces and perhaps she would take the Grecian elements of Hannah's appearance as simply facets of an unknown Moab ethnicity or Israeli colouring...
When the noble lady struggled to put words to the manner in which she was accompanied by Mazel, Hannah tried to offer a smile that suggested she not worry about placing a term upon their relationship.
"She is your companion?" Hannah suggested in a tone of simplicity and understanding. For, whatever the girl was trying to say, it was clear that there was a lightness and affection between the two. 'Companion' was an open term of just such affection and only suggested proximity and company... It was a catch all of care.
When Amarissa disappeared behind the curtain to change and the other girl - Mazel - left the room to find sewing supplies, Hannah was left to observe the room around her in an attempt to look busy or distracted so as not to leave the young woman behind the curtain feeling awkward that her ministrations of undressed were being somehow listened to or waited on.
The minutes passed by quickly and soon both of the Judean women were back in Hannah's company, one holding a fine bone needle and thread that matched the colour of the gown and the other offering the external and decorated outer layer of her dress.
Noting a little group of stools in one corner, clearly utilised when more than one worker within the store needed to reach the higher shelves of fabric rolls, Hannah pulled one out into the room a little and sat down, allowing the other two to decide if they wished the mimic the action.
"Then the gown is very important." She simply said in response to Amarissa's description of its ownership. "I shall have it fixed to the best of my abilities, my Lady."
Looking down upon the work she had agreed to do and suddenly nervous as to whether she could perform it to the standard she had promised, Hannah turned the silk this way and that, analysing the tear and pulling at the cloth so very gently in order to work out if there was enough textile to sew it in the hidden manner she had intended.
Finding a particular line of the design that she could follow, masking the pleat that stitching would create, Hannah pinned the edges together in her fingers and then turned the hem around so that she might turn the work of the needle to the underside.
Glancing up at the two of them a little whilst she formed the first stitch and the tie off that would secure the fine thread, Hannah offered a look of reassurance but knew little else of what to say or do that would provide the noble lady and her friend with distraction whilst she worked...
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When the young lady introduced her companion, Hannah realised that she had made an error with their names. For the noble lady before her was named Amarissa - or Rissa for short - and the serving girl was by the name of Mazel. Thanking whatever spirits were listening that she had not spoken to them in direct form as yet, utilising the wrong address for the wrong person and embarrassing herself in the process, Hannah smile softly when the young woman tried to explain the relation between herself and the girl that was in her company.
Reaching up, Hannah removed the front of her mitzpahath now that they were inside and smiled softly, admitting that the girl knew her to be different by now but may mistake her fair colouring for evidence of her birth elsewhere. She seemed perhaps slightly sheltered in her knowledge of the other Judean provinces and perhaps she would take the Grecian elements of Hannah's appearance as simply facets of an unknown Moab ethnicity or Israeli colouring...
When the noble lady struggled to put words to the manner in which she was accompanied by Mazel, Hannah tried to offer a smile that suggested she not worry about placing a term upon their relationship.
"She is your companion?" Hannah suggested in a tone of simplicity and understanding. For, whatever the girl was trying to say, it was clear that there was a lightness and affection between the two. 'Companion' was an open term of just such affection and only suggested proximity and company... It was a catch all of care.
When Amarissa disappeared behind the curtain to change and the other girl - Mazel - left the room to find sewing supplies, Hannah was left to observe the room around her in an attempt to look busy or distracted so as not to leave the young woman behind the curtain feeling awkward that her ministrations of undressed were being somehow listened to or waited on.
The minutes passed by quickly and soon both of the Judean women were back in Hannah's company, one holding a fine bone needle and thread that matched the colour of the gown and the other offering the external and decorated outer layer of her dress.
Noting a little group of stools in one corner, clearly utilised when more than one worker within the store needed to reach the higher shelves of fabric rolls, Hannah pulled one out into the room a little and sat down, allowing the other two to decide if they wished the mimic the action.
"Then the gown is very important." She simply said in response to Amarissa's description of its ownership. "I shall have it fixed to the best of my abilities, my Lady."
Looking down upon the work she had agreed to do and suddenly nervous as to whether she could perform it to the standard she had promised, Hannah turned the silk this way and that, analysing the tear and pulling at the cloth so very gently in order to work out if there was enough textile to sew it in the hidden manner she had intended.
Finding a particular line of the design that she could follow, masking the pleat that stitching would create, Hannah pinned the edges together in her fingers and then turned the hem around so that she might turn the work of the needle to the underside.
Glancing up at the two of them a little whilst she formed the first stitch and the tie off that would secure the fine thread, Hannah offered a look of reassurance but knew little else of what to say or do that would provide the noble lady and her friend with distraction whilst she worked...
When the young lady introduced her companion, Hannah realised that she had made an error with their names. For the noble lady before her was named Amarissa - or Rissa for short - and the serving girl was by the name of Mazel. Thanking whatever spirits were listening that she had not spoken to them in direct form as yet, utilising the wrong address for the wrong person and embarrassing herself in the process, Hannah smile softly when the young woman tried to explain the relation between herself and the girl that was in her company.
Reaching up, Hannah removed the front of her mitzpahath now that they were inside and smiled softly, admitting that the girl knew her to be different by now but may mistake her fair colouring for evidence of her birth elsewhere. She seemed perhaps slightly sheltered in her knowledge of the other Judean provinces and perhaps she would take the Grecian elements of Hannah's appearance as simply facets of an unknown Moab ethnicity or Israeli colouring...
When the noble lady struggled to put words to the manner in which she was accompanied by Mazel, Hannah tried to offer a smile that suggested she not worry about placing a term upon their relationship.
"She is your companion?" Hannah suggested in a tone of simplicity and understanding. For, whatever the girl was trying to say, it was clear that there was a lightness and affection between the two. 'Companion' was an open term of just such affection and only suggested proximity and company... It was a catch all of care.
When Amarissa disappeared behind the curtain to change and the other girl - Mazel - left the room to find sewing supplies, Hannah was left to observe the room around her in an attempt to look busy or distracted so as not to leave the young woman behind the curtain feeling awkward that her ministrations of undressed were being somehow listened to or waited on.
The minutes passed by quickly and soon both of the Judean women were back in Hannah's company, one holding a fine bone needle and thread that matched the colour of the gown and the other offering the external and decorated outer layer of her dress.
Noting a little group of stools in one corner, clearly utilised when more than one worker within the store needed to reach the higher shelves of fabric rolls, Hannah pulled one out into the room a little and sat down, allowing the other two to decide if they wished the mimic the action.
"Then the gown is very important." She simply said in response to Amarissa's description of its ownership. "I shall have it fixed to the best of my abilities, my Lady."
Looking down upon the work she had agreed to do and suddenly nervous as to whether she could perform it to the standard she had promised, Hannah turned the silk this way and that, analysing the tear and pulling at the cloth so very gently in order to work out if there was enough textile to sew it in the hidden manner she had intended.
Finding a particular line of the design that she could follow, masking the pleat that stitching would create, Hannah pinned the edges together in her fingers and then turned the hem around so that she might turn the work of the needle to the underside.
Glancing up at the two of them a little whilst she formed the first stitch and the tie off that would secure the fine thread, Hannah offered a look of reassurance but knew little else of what to say or do that would provide the noble lady and her friend with distraction whilst she worked...
Amarissa smiled in response to Hannah's description of the relationship between Mazel and Amarissa. Yes, companion. That was perfect really. Amarissa had always enjoyed her company greatly and Rishona had always encouraged the friendship between the two girls as Amarissa had no sisters to spend her days with. Mazel was in many ways the closest Amarissa may ever come to having a sister, a confidant, a companion.
A grateful smile washed over Amarissa as the woman noted how important the dress was then after Amarissa had explained its origins. "Yes" she said softly. "She passed some years ago" she added quietly and the two girls followed Hannah over to the stools and sat quietly on either side of her so as to not distract her.
They watched in a sort of attentive awe as her fingers worked the fabric and thread nimbly and the thin bone needle seemed to practically fly between her fingers. When she had first looked up at them reassuringly, they both had flashed embarrassed smiles at watching her so closely but as she went back to her work, their eyes were drawn to her work once more.
Amarissa tore her eyes away from her work to admire the woman herself. Her skin was lighter than most here in the lands of Y-hw-h. Her hair too spoke of lands farther north perhaps than Amarissa could place. The young noble woman wondered if Mazel would notice and have any issue with it. For Amarissa herself, she truly cared little. Her father dealt with many across the trade routes. While devotion to Y-hw-h was obviously a priority, her father did not agree with many of his compatriots that the blessings of G-d were for Jews alone. As for the servants in the Haviv house, they either came to agree with Amarissa's father or learned to keep their mouths shut about it. Mazel's father was one of the stubborn ones but spending so much time with Amarissa, Mazel had at least found a way to balance the two views.
Amarissa briefly admired the smooth lines and structure of the young foreign woman's features. Her beauty was plain to see and Amarissa wondered briefly if the woman had a husband. Surely she did. But then, one might think that of Amarissa too and she was neither married nor even promised to anyone. Still she was quite young still. Amarissa found herself meeting eyes with the young woman as she likely was giving her eyes a quick break from staring at the fabric. Amarissa's eyes darted away quickly and she looked at the progress on the dress.
"It is looking quite good" she said encouragingly. "You are quite talented"
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Amarissa smiled in response to Hannah's description of the relationship between Mazel and Amarissa. Yes, companion. That was perfect really. Amarissa had always enjoyed her company greatly and Rishona had always encouraged the friendship between the two girls as Amarissa had no sisters to spend her days with. Mazel was in many ways the closest Amarissa may ever come to having a sister, a confidant, a companion.
A grateful smile washed over Amarissa as the woman noted how important the dress was then after Amarissa had explained its origins. "Yes" she said softly. "She passed some years ago" she added quietly and the two girls followed Hannah over to the stools and sat quietly on either side of her so as to not distract her.
They watched in a sort of attentive awe as her fingers worked the fabric and thread nimbly and the thin bone needle seemed to practically fly between her fingers. When she had first looked up at them reassuringly, they both had flashed embarrassed smiles at watching her so closely but as she went back to her work, their eyes were drawn to her work once more.
Amarissa tore her eyes away from her work to admire the woman herself. Her skin was lighter than most here in the lands of Y-hw-h. Her hair too spoke of lands farther north perhaps than Amarissa could place. The young noble woman wondered if Mazel would notice and have any issue with it. For Amarissa herself, she truly cared little. Her father dealt with many across the trade routes. While devotion to Y-hw-h was obviously a priority, her father did not agree with many of his compatriots that the blessings of G-d were for Jews alone. As for the servants in the Haviv house, they either came to agree with Amarissa's father or learned to keep their mouths shut about it. Mazel's father was one of the stubborn ones but spending so much time with Amarissa, Mazel had at least found a way to balance the two views.
Amarissa briefly admired the smooth lines and structure of the young foreign woman's features. Her beauty was plain to see and Amarissa wondered briefly if the woman had a husband. Surely she did. But then, one might think that of Amarissa too and she was neither married nor even promised to anyone. Still she was quite young still. Amarissa found herself meeting eyes with the young woman as she likely was giving her eyes a quick break from staring at the fabric. Amarissa's eyes darted away quickly and she looked at the progress on the dress.
"It is looking quite good" she said encouragingly. "You are quite talented"
Amarissa smiled in response to Hannah's description of the relationship between Mazel and Amarissa. Yes, companion. That was perfect really. Amarissa had always enjoyed her company greatly and Rishona had always encouraged the friendship between the two girls as Amarissa had no sisters to spend her days with. Mazel was in many ways the closest Amarissa may ever come to having a sister, a confidant, a companion.
A grateful smile washed over Amarissa as the woman noted how important the dress was then after Amarissa had explained its origins. "Yes" she said softly. "She passed some years ago" she added quietly and the two girls followed Hannah over to the stools and sat quietly on either side of her so as to not distract her.
They watched in a sort of attentive awe as her fingers worked the fabric and thread nimbly and the thin bone needle seemed to practically fly between her fingers. When she had first looked up at them reassuringly, they both had flashed embarrassed smiles at watching her so closely but as she went back to her work, their eyes were drawn to her work once more.
Amarissa tore her eyes away from her work to admire the woman herself. Her skin was lighter than most here in the lands of Y-hw-h. Her hair too spoke of lands farther north perhaps than Amarissa could place. The young noble woman wondered if Mazel would notice and have any issue with it. For Amarissa herself, she truly cared little. Her father dealt with many across the trade routes. While devotion to Y-hw-h was obviously a priority, her father did not agree with many of his compatriots that the blessings of G-d were for Jews alone. As for the servants in the Haviv house, they either came to agree with Amarissa's father or learned to keep their mouths shut about it. Mazel's father was one of the stubborn ones but spending so much time with Amarissa, Mazel had at least found a way to balance the two views.
Amarissa briefly admired the smooth lines and structure of the young foreign woman's features. Her beauty was plain to see and Amarissa wondered briefly if the woman had a husband. Surely she did. But then, one might think that of Amarissa too and she was neither married nor even promised to anyone. Still she was quite young still. Amarissa found herself meeting eyes with the young woman as she likely was giving her eyes a quick break from staring at the fabric. Amarissa's eyes darted away quickly and she looked at the progress on the dress.
"It is looking quite good" she said encouragingly. "You are quite talented"
Hannah tried to ignore the stares that bore into her but it was a little difficult. Through her more recent life experiences, she had been taught to fear attention. Or at least to fear the eventualities that such attentions could bring to her doorstep. To fear the hatred that could only land upon you if the gazes of those that held it turned to you. If those that held aggression against you did not notice you... you were safe. Such mentalities were cowardly and a previous version of herself might have disliked such thoughts. But losing the love of your life and parts of yourself - physical and emotional - in a single swoop of injustice, had you learning to keep your head low and your intentions hidden. The eyes of others were not often friendly.
Even with these two ladies showing themselves to be polite, compassionate and sweet in nature, she disliked being looked upon. The fear was irrational but it was there all the same. So, instead of feeling the burn of eyes upon her, she turned her focus to her work. Her fingers fluttered over the fabric in a way that was careful and considerate. Her touch was light and delicate. She knew how to manipulate the fabric in a manner that neither stretched nor pulled it out of shape, ensuring that her stitches - whilst slower than some might manage - were accurate. With such specifics, she didn't need to retrace her steps or unpluck any inaccurate spearing of the needle. So, her work, in duration was quick.
By and by, as her attentions were trained upon her hand instead of the feeling on the back of her neck as others watch her progress, the practice of ignoring her audience became a reality. She lost her notice of the other two women and worked upon the task with her heart in her throat and her focus narrowed to only the tips of her fingers and the responsibility she had assigned to them in volunteering to fix the gown.
When she did glance up, just to take a second to refocus her eyes away from such close up work and restablish herself in the room, her muscles on the stool shifted and changing to relieve her physicality for just a moment, Hannah noted the gaze of the young noble woman. She had been looking upon her face - of that Hannah was sure - but as she didn't cry 'foreigner' or 'Greek' with a snarling tone and an antagonistic eye, Hannah was able to calm the sudden panic in her heart and settle it back to the norm. The girl was just looking at her differences. Clearly she did not recognise them for the calling card they were to her origins in the northern isles.
Turning back to her work, her cheeks blooming with colour over the praise the young girl offered her, Hannah shook her head as she made another careful stitch and turned it into an elegant loop.
"No." She offered in a moment of humble modesty. "I am not so good as I would like." She swallowed and offered a look of contrition to the lady she had assured would have a fully mended dress by the end of the ministrations. "I only learnt this skill a year ago." She admitted. She licked her lips and swallowed nervously, truth overwhelming her own fears. "I do not think I would have offered to mend this gown if I knew it's significance." Her brow lowered in an expression of assurance and determination. "But I will try hard."
As if to prove her point, Hannah turned her attentions back to the dress and continued her work as precisely and carefully as she could, ensuring that no back-tracks or restitches would be required. When she was finished, she looped a tie off, securing it several times so that her work would not unravel and then looked around for a knife that could be used to cut the thread...
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Hannah tried to ignore the stares that bore into her but it was a little difficult. Through her more recent life experiences, she had been taught to fear attention. Or at least to fear the eventualities that such attentions could bring to her doorstep. To fear the hatred that could only land upon you if the gazes of those that held it turned to you. If those that held aggression against you did not notice you... you were safe. Such mentalities were cowardly and a previous version of herself might have disliked such thoughts. But losing the love of your life and parts of yourself - physical and emotional - in a single swoop of injustice, had you learning to keep your head low and your intentions hidden. The eyes of others were not often friendly.
Even with these two ladies showing themselves to be polite, compassionate and sweet in nature, she disliked being looked upon. The fear was irrational but it was there all the same. So, instead of feeling the burn of eyes upon her, she turned her focus to her work. Her fingers fluttered over the fabric in a way that was careful and considerate. Her touch was light and delicate. She knew how to manipulate the fabric in a manner that neither stretched nor pulled it out of shape, ensuring that her stitches - whilst slower than some might manage - were accurate. With such specifics, she didn't need to retrace her steps or unpluck any inaccurate spearing of the needle. So, her work, in duration was quick.
By and by, as her attentions were trained upon her hand instead of the feeling on the back of her neck as others watch her progress, the practice of ignoring her audience became a reality. She lost her notice of the other two women and worked upon the task with her heart in her throat and her focus narrowed to only the tips of her fingers and the responsibility she had assigned to them in volunteering to fix the gown.
When she did glance up, just to take a second to refocus her eyes away from such close up work and restablish herself in the room, her muscles on the stool shifted and changing to relieve her physicality for just a moment, Hannah noted the gaze of the young noble woman. She had been looking upon her face - of that Hannah was sure - but as she didn't cry 'foreigner' or 'Greek' with a snarling tone and an antagonistic eye, Hannah was able to calm the sudden panic in her heart and settle it back to the norm. The girl was just looking at her differences. Clearly she did not recognise them for the calling card they were to her origins in the northern isles.
Turning back to her work, her cheeks blooming with colour over the praise the young girl offered her, Hannah shook her head as she made another careful stitch and turned it into an elegant loop.
"No." She offered in a moment of humble modesty. "I am not so good as I would like." She swallowed and offered a look of contrition to the lady she had assured would have a fully mended dress by the end of the ministrations. "I only learnt this skill a year ago." She admitted. She licked her lips and swallowed nervously, truth overwhelming her own fears. "I do not think I would have offered to mend this gown if I knew it's significance." Her brow lowered in an expression of assurance and determination. "But I will try hard."
As if to prove her point, Hannah turned her attentions back to the dress and continued her work as precisely and carefully as she could, ensuring that no back-tracks or restitches would be required. When she was finished, she looped a tie off, securing it several times so that her work would not unravel and then looked around for a knife that could be used to cut the thread...
Hannah tried to ignore the stares that bore into her but it was a little difficult. Through her more recent life experiences, she had been taught to fear attention. Or at least to fear the eventualities that such attentions could bring to her doorstep. To fear the hatred that could only land upon you if the gazes of those that held it turned to you. If those that held aggression against you did not notice you... you were safe. Such mentalities were cowardly and a previous version of herself might have disliked such thoughts. But losing the love of your life and parts of yourself - physical and emotional - in a single swoop of injustice, had you learning to keep your head low and your intentions hidden. The eyes of others were not often friendly.
Even with these two ladies showing themselves to be polite, compassionate and sweet in nature, she disliked being looked upon. The fear was irrational but it was there all the same. So, instead of feeling the burn of eyes upon her, she turned her focus to her work. Her fingers fluttered over the fabric in a way that was careful and considerate. Her touch was light and delicate. She knew how to manipulate the fabric in a manner that neither stretched nor pulled it out of shape, ensuring that her stitches - whilst slower than some might manage - were accurate. With such specifics, she didn't need to retrace her steps or unpluck any inaccurate spearing of the needle. So, her work, in duration was quick.
By and by, as her attentions were trained upon her hand instead of the feeling on the back of her neck as others watch her progress, the practice of ignoring her audience became a reality. She lost her notice of the other two women and worked upon the task with her heart in her throat and her focus narrowed to only the tips of her fingers and the responsibility she had assigned to them in volunteering to fix the gown.
When she did glance up, just to take a second to refocus her eyes away from such close up work and restablish herself in the room, her muscles on the stool shifted and changing to relieve her physicality for just a moment, Hannah noted the gaze of the young noble woman. She had been looking upon her face - of that Hannah was sure - but as she didn't cry 'foreigner' or 'Greek' with a snarling tone and an antagonistic eye, Hannah was able to calm the sudden panic in her heart and settle it back to the norm. The girl was just looking at her differences. Clearly she did not recognise them for the calling card they were to her origins in the northern isles.
Turning back to her work, her cheeks blooming with colour over the praise the young girl offered her, Hannah shook her head as she made another careful stitch and turned it into an elegant loop.
"No." She offered in a moment of humble modesty. "I am not so good as I would like." She swallowed and offered a look of contrition to the lady she had assured would have a fully mended dress by the end of the ministrations. "I only learnt this skill a year ago." She admitted. She licked her lips and swallowed nervously, truth overwhelming her own fears. "I do not think I would have offered to mend this gown if I knew it's significance." Her brow lowered in an expression of assurance and determination. "But I will try hard."
As if to prove her point, Hannah turned her attentions back to the dress and continued her work as precisely and carefully as she could, ensuring that no back-tracks or restitches would be required. When she was finished, she looped a tie off, securing it several times so that her work would not unravel and then looked around for a knife that could be used to cut the thread...
Amarissa shook her head slightly as the woman tried to deny her talent. "Well I've been trying to learn for years and it doesn't look as good as that" Amarissa assured her. Still the young woman seemed a bit uncomfortable with the two girls sitting quite so close so Amarissa gave her a kind smile and stood up to walk a few feet away. Motioning Mazel over, Amarissa asked her if she could go get the three of them some refreshing water. Nothing seemed to ease nerves like a cool drink of water in her experience.
The servant scurried off and Amarissa busied herself with wandering the small room. There was a few wares hung up on display and Amarissa admired them as she sought to fill the time.
Mazel had just returned with a clay pot of water and some drinking vessels when Amarissa noticed Hannah looking around. Amarissa scanned the room wondering what she could be looking for and then understood in a moment. "Mazel, your blade" she said softly and the servant quickly produced a small knife from her satchel.
Handing it to Hannah, Amarissa smiled and looked down at the repairs. In truth she could barely even see them it had been done so well. "Oh it is beautiful!" Amarissa exclaimed. "I may have need of your services in the future" Amarissa noted with a pleased nod.
"Where would I find you if not by Yahweh's will at the market?" Amarissa asked kindly.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Amarissa shook her head slightly as the woman tried to deny her talent. "Well I've been trying to learn for years and it doesn't look as good as that" Amarissa assured her. Still the young woman seemed a bit uncomfortable with the two girls sitting quite so close so Amarissa gave her a kind smile and stood up to walk a few feet away. Motioning Mazel over, Amarissa asked her if she could go get the three of them some refreshing water. Nothing seemed to ease nerves like a cool drink of water in her experience.
The servant scurried off and Amarissa busied herself with wandering the small room. There was a few wares hung up on display and Amarissa admired them as she sought to fill the time.
Mazel had just returned with a clay pot of water and some drinking vessels when Amarissa noticed Hannah looking around. Amarissa scanned the room wondering what she could be looking for and then understood in a moment. "Mazel, your blade" she said softly and the servant quickly produced a small knife from her satchel.
Handing it to Hannah, Amarissa smiled and looked down at the repairs. In truth she could barely even see them it had been done so well. "Oh it is beautiful!" Amarissa exclaimed. "I may have need of your services in the future" Amarissa noted with a pleased nod.
"Where would I find you if not by Yahweh's will at the market?" Amarissa asked kindly.
Amarissa shook her head slightly as the woman tried to deny her talent. "Well I've been trying to learn for years and it doesn't look as good as that" Amarissa assured her. Still the young woman seemed a bit uncomfortable with the two girls sitting quite so close so Amarissa gave her a kind smile and stood up to walk a few feet away. Motioning Mazel over, Amarissa asked her if she could go get the three of them some refreshing water. Nothing seemed to ease nerves like a cool drink of water in her experience.
The servant scurried off and Amarissa busied herself with wandering the small room. There was a few wares hung up on display and Amarissa admired them as she sought to fill the time.
Mazel had just returned with a clay pot of water and some drinking vessels when Amarissa noticed Hannah looking around. Amarissa scanned the room wondering what she could be looking for and then understood in a moment. "Mazel, your blade" she said softly and the servant quickly produced a small knife from her satchel.
Handing it to Hannah, Amarissa smiled and looked down at the repairs. In truth she could barely even see them it had been done so well. "Oh it is beautiful!" Amarissa exclaimed. "I may have need of your services in the future" Amarissa noted with a pleased nod.
"Where would I find you if not by Yahweh's will at the market?" Amarissa asked kindly.