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The Council of Elders meet in Jerusalem this month to discuss the newest matters of importance. This might include current engagements due to become marriages in the foreseeable future, but also the news of war that journeys up from the south-western borders of Judea. Here, in the holy capitol of Judea, the Elders and their Deputy's congregate with family in an informal discussion where talks will be had and then the finalised decisions written upon clay as the formal record of a more stringent meeting...
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The Council of Elders meet in Jerusalem this month to discuss the newest matters of importance. This might include current engagements due to become marriages in the foreseeable future, but also the news of war that journeys up from the south-western borders of Judea. Here, in the holy capitol of Judea, the Elders and their Deputy's congregate with family in an informal discussion where talks will be had and then the finalised decisions written upon clay as the formal record of a more stringent meeting...
Thunder In The Distance Event - Judea
The Council of Elders meet in Jerusalem this month to discuss the newest matters of importance. This might include current engagements due to become marriages in the foreseeable future, but also the news of war that journeys up from the south-western borders of Judea. Here, in the holy capitol of Judea, the Elders and their Deputy's congregate with family in an informal discussion where talks will be had and then the finalised decisions written upon clay as the formal record of a more stringent meeting...
Jerusalem’s Public Hall was bigger than the one in Damascus by quite a lot. The city wasn’t older, but it was larger, and that meant more tax money had been spent on the mosaic tiles of the floor and the stone used to construct the wall. Stone masons of more skill and experience, with far more artistic flare had been paid to construct graceful archways that had always reminded him of a lotus about to bloom. Tiled pillars made up the bulk of the space, all leading the eye upward to the ceiling where the eye could feast forever on the soaring, interweaving lines of black tile that formed triangles of differing sizes. In the center of each triangle were teal tiles that gave the impression of geometric flowers and drops of water, all surrounded by vivid yellow tiles that he supposed represented the sun. Every building in Judea meant something, and so did the decoration inside. All of it was dedicated to Yahweh, the Creator of beauty. The thing with all this stone and tile was that it carried sound gorgeously well. There were no rugs here to dampen the rumble of the men’s voices who moved below the carefully crafting ceiling high above.
Amiti was not smug, exactly, but he did soak up the congratulations from several sources about his yet-to-be-announced engagement. None of it was a secret, of course, and so word had floated around that Tzephaniah’s eldest was to wed the daughter of Yonita. There weren’t terribly many people who came up to congratulate him, but those who did were those he respected and was already friends with. Of the men here, he didn’t see anyone who was his active enemy, but like so many others, he preferred the refuge his own family gave him. Because the formal part had not yet begun, both his brothers were here with him and his father.
Whispers of war circulated the room and despite the large windows through which sunlight streamed, the shadows seemed deeper in the corners, as though conjured there by the very spectre of war. This had lent the whole proceeding a more solemn note than usual. It meant more foreigners. Highly likely disrupted trade routes, possible shortages of food and other goods and textiles. There were many things to discuss and Amiti was thinking of Zoser most of the time, as talk circulated about Egypt and Greece. He didn’t know the Egyptian well, but he knew him best of any foreigner and was basing his entire opinion of Egypt on one man, because there weren’t all that many to draw on and no challenges to his opinion.
One couldn’t hyper focus on war, though, and it was now that Amiti drew his brother close to mutter where others couldn’t hear. “Thaddeus, now would be an excellent time to have father mention your desire for marriage.” He had hold of Thaddeus’s sleeve to prevent his brother from edging away too far. “With the threat of war, fathers will want to see their daughters well settled and Damascus is too out of the way to be in much danger. Go ahead. Tell him.”
It didn’t matter to Amiti that Thaddeus’s enthusiasm about this idea was about as high as the Dead Sea. He wasn’t all that excited about his own marriage but that wasn’t the point. Marriage was a stepping stone. So long as the person Thaddeus was marrying was a good girl and not too terribly stupid, all should be well. What more could his brother wish for? Didn’t he want sons to his name? Respectability? Didn’t he want a longer beard?
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Jerusalem’s Public Hall was bigger than the one in Damascus by quite a lot. The city wasn’t older, but it was larger, and that meant more tax money had been spent on the mosaic tiles of the floor and the stone used to construct the wall. Stone masons of more skill and experience, with far more artistic flare had been paid to construct graceful archways that had always reminded him of a lotus about to bloom. Tiled pillars made up the bulk of the space, all leading the eye upward to the ceiling where the eye could feast forever on the soaring, interweaving lines of black tile that formed triangles of differing sizes. In the center of each triangle were teal tiles that gave the impression of geometric flowers and drops of water, all surrounded by vivid yellow tiles that he supposed represented the sun. Every building in Judea meant something, and so did the decoration inside. All of it was dedicated to Yahweh, the Creator of beauty. The thing with all this stone and tile was that it carried sound gorgeously well. There were no rugs here to dampen the rumble of the men’s voices who moved below the carefully crafting ceiling high above.
Amiti was not smug, exactly, but he did soak up the congratulations from several sources about his yet-to-be-announced engagement. None of it was a secret, of course, and so word had floated around that Tzephaniah’s eldest was to wed the daughter of Yonita. There weren’t terribly many people who came up to congratulate him, but those who did were those he respected and was already friends with. Of the men here, he didn’t see anyone who was his active enemy, but like so many others, he preferred the refuge his own family gave him. Because the formal part had not yet begun, both his brothers were here with him and his father.
Whispers of war circulated the room and despite the large windows through which sunlight streamed, the shadows seemed deeper in the corners, as though conjured there by the very spectre of war. This had lent the whole proceeding a more solemn note than usual. It meant more foreigners. Highly likely disrupted trade routes, possible shortages of food and other goods and textiles. There were many things to discuss and Amiti was thinking of Zoser most of the time, as talk circulated about Egypt and Greece. He didn’t know the Egyptian well, but he knew him best of any foreigner and was basing his entire opinion of Egypt on one man, because there weren’t all that many to draw on and no challenges to his opinion.
One couldn’t hyper focus on war, though, and it was now that Amiti drew his brother close to mutter where others couldn’t hear. “Thaddeus, now would be an excellent time to have father mention your desire for marriage.” He had hold of Thaddeus’s sleeve to prevent his brother from edging away too far. “With the threat of war, fathers will want to see their daughters well settled and Damascus is too out of the way to be in much danger. Go ahead. Tell him.”
It didn’t matter to Amiti that Thaddeus’s enthusiasm about this idea was about as high as the Dead Sea. He wasn’t all that excited about his own marriage but that wasn’t the point. Marriage was a stepping stone. So long as the person Thaddeus was marrying was a good girl and not too terribly stupid, all should be well. What more could his brother wish for? Didn’t he want sons to his name? Respectability? Didn’t he want a longer beard?
Jerusalem’s Public Hall was bigger than the one in Damascus by quite a lot. The city wasn’t older, but it was larger, and that meant more tax money had been spent on the mosaic tiles of the floor and the stone used to construct the wall. Stone masons of more skill and experience, with far more artistic flare had been paid to construct graceful archways that had always reminded him of a lotus about to bloom. Tiled pillars made up the bulk of the space, all leading the eye upward to the ceiling where the eye could feast forever on the soaring, interweaving lines of black tile that formed triangles of differing sizes. In the center of each triangle were teal tiles that gave the impression of geometric flowers and drops of water, all surrounded by vivid yellow tiles that he supposed represented the sun. Every building in Judea meant something, and so did the decoration inside. All of it was dedicated to Yahweh, the Creator of beauty. The thing with all this stone and tile was that it carried sound gorgeously well. There were no rugs here to dampen the rumble of the men’s voices who moved below the carefully crafting ceiling high above.
Amiti was not smug, exactly, but he did soak up the congratulations from several sources about his yet-to-be-announced engagement. None of it was a secret, of course, and so word had floated around that Tzephaniah’s eldest was to wed the daughter of Yonita. There weren’t terribly many people who came up to congratulate him, but those who did were those he respected and was already friends with. Of the men here, he didn’t see anyone who was his active enemy, but like so many others, he preferred the refuge his own family gave him. Because the formal part had not yet begun, both his brothers were here with him and his father.
Whispers of war circulated the room and despite the large windows through which sunlight streamed, the shadows seemed deeper in the corners, as though conjured there by the very spectre of war. This had lent the whole proceeding a more solemn note than usual. It meant more foreigners. Highly likely disrupted trade routes, possible shortages of food and other goods and textiles. There were many things to discuss and Amiti was thinking of Zoser most of the time, as talk circulated about Egypt and Greece. He didn’t know the Egyptian well, but he knew him best of any foreigner and was basing his entire opinion of Egypt on one man, because there weren’t all that many to draw on and no challenges to his opinion.
One couldn’t hyper focus on war, though, and it was now that Amiti drew his brother close to mutter where others couldn’t hear. “Thaddeus, now would be an excellent time to have father mention your desire for marriage.” He had hold of Thaddeus’s sleeve to prevent his brother from edging away too far. “With the threat of war, fathers will want to see their daughters well settled and Damascus is too out of the way to be in much danger. Go ahead. Tell him.”
It didn’t matter to Amiti that Thaddeus’s enthusiasm about this idea was about as high as the Dead Sea. He wasn’t all that excited about his own marriage but that wasn’t the point. Marriage was a stepping stone. So long as the person Thaddeus was marrying was a good girl and not too terribly stupid, all should be well. What more could his brother wish for? Didn’t he want sons to his name? Respectability? Didn’t he want a longer beard?
Today was a big day at the public hall, and Thaddeus was with his family to show support for his father. Not to get in the way, but to support on the sidelines. They were talking about war, and while Thaddeus didn’t really want anything to do with it, he knew it was a neccisary coversation. He knew it was going to happen no matter what, and he did agree that they would need to be prepared. Thaddeus smiled as his brother was congradulated on his enagement, feeling quite proud. Thaddeus probably seemed more happy that people were giving Amiti proper attention then Amiti himself! Thaddeus was still smiling as everyone around them prepared for the formal part of the day, which hadn’t actually started yet. He was happily watching people pass him by as he felt his brother. His expression immediately changed and he turned quickly towards Amiti.
“Now? Today?” His voice was full of concern, and Thaddeus’s expression gave away the fact that he was not happy. He didn’t want to marry. Well, he didn’t want to marry… just anyone. He wasn’t like Amiti- he couldn’t just go through the motions! He wanted to marry for love! He wanted… he wanted time. He didn’t want to… Thaddeus thought of Gwyneth, the lovely servant girl. If he married, would she ever want him? Would she ever have the same feelings for him then he had for her? Thaddeus felt sad at the thought. He tried to move away from his brother and such a crazy idea, and looked frustratingly as Amiti held his sleeve. It’s like the other could read his mind…
“I don’t want to.” He whispered forcefully, looking away from his brother. But he knew enough to not hold an argument on today of all days. It seemed miniscule compared to war. He frowned deeply at Amiti before sighing. Fine. He turned towards where his father, was, glanced at his brother one more time before heading towards Tzephaniah. Thaddeus smiled over at his father, before stepping closer. “Father?” He asked, before pausing. “Do you have a moment to speak with me?” Inside he hoped his father would tell him to go away - it was the busiest day ever - and maybe he’d have an excuse to not talk about marriage today. He looked at his father, trying to catch his mood. “It is important.” Thaddeus glanced back at Amiti, wondering if his brother was paying attention to their conversation.
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Today was a big day at the public hall, and Thaddeus was with his family to show support for his father. Not to get in the way, but to support on the sidelines. They were talking about war, and while Thaddeus didn’t really want anything to do with it, he knew it was a neccisary coversation. He knew it was going to happen no matter what, and he did agree that they would need to be prepared. Thaddeus smiled as his brother was congradulated on his enagement, feeling quite proud. Thaddeus probably seemed more happy that people were giving Amiti proper attention then Amiti himself! Thaddeus was still smiling as everyone around them prepared for the formal part of the day, which hadn’t actually started yet. He was happily watching people pass him by as he felt his brother. His expression immediately changed and he turned quickly towards Amiti.
“Now? Today?” His voice was full of concern, and Thaddeus’s expression gave away the fact that he was not happy. He didn’t want to marry. Well, he didn’t want to marry… just anyone. He wasn’t like Amiti- he couldn’t just go through the motions! He wanted to marry for love! He wanted… he wanted time. He didn’t want to… Thaddeus thought of Gwyneth, the lovely servant girl. If he married, would she ever want him? Would she ever have the same feelings for him then he had for her? Thaddeus felt sad at the thought. He tried to move away from his brother and such a crazy idea, and looked frustratingly as Amiti held his sleeve. It’s like the other could read his mind…
“I don’t want to.” He whispered forcefully, looking away from his brother. But he knew enough to not hold an argument on today of all days. It seemed miniscule compared to war. He frowned deeply at Amiti before sighing. Fine. He turned towards where his father, was, glanced at his brother one more time before heading towards Tzephaniah. Thaddeus smiled over at his father, before stepping closer. “Father?” He asked, before pausing. “Do you have a moment to speak with me?” Inside he hoped his father would tell him to go away - it was the busiest day ever - and maybe he’d have an excuse to not talk about marriage today. He looked at his father, trying to catch his mood. “It is important.” Thaddeus glanced back at Amiti, wondering if his brother was paying attention to their conversation.
Today was a big day at the public hall, and Thaddeus was with his family to show support for his father. Not to get in the way, but to support on the sidelines. They were talking about war, and while Thaddeus didn’t really want anything to do with it, he knew it was a neccisary coversation. He knew it was going to happen no matter what, and he did agree that they would need to be prepared. Thaddeus smiled as his brother was congradulated on his enagement, feeling quite proud. Thaddeus probably seemed more happy that people were giving Amiti proper attention then Amiti himself! Thaddeus was still smiling as everyone around them prepared for the formal part of the day, which hadn’t actually started yet. He was happily watching people pass him by as he felt his brother. His expression immediately changed and he turned quickly towards Amiti.
“Now? Today?” His voice was full of concern, and Thaddeus’s expression gave away the fact that he was not happy. He didn’t want to marry. Well, he didn’t want to marry… just anyone. He wasn’t like Amiti- he couldn’t just go through the motions! He wanted to marry for love! He wanted… he wanted time. He didn’t want to… Thaddeus thought of Gwyneth, the lovely servant girl. If he married, would she ever want him? Would she ever have the same feelings for him then he had for her? Thaddeus felt sad at the thought. He tried to move away from his brother and such a crazy idea, and looked frustratingly as Amiti held his sleeve. It’s like the other could read his mind…
“I don’t want to.” He whispered forcefully, looking away from his brother. But he knew enough to not hold an argument on today of all days. It seemed miniscule compared to war. He frowned deeply at Amiti before sighing. Fine. He turned towards where his father, was, glanced at his brother one more time before heading towards Tzephaniah. Thaddeus smiled over at his father, before stepping closer. “Father?” He asked, before pausing. “Do you have a moment to speak with me?” Inside he hoped his father would tell him to go away - it was the busiest day ever - and maybe he’d have an excuse to not talk about marriage today. He looked at his father, trying to catch his mood. “It is important.” Thaddeus glanced back at Amiti, wondering if his brother was paying attention to their conversation.
For someone as untravelled as she is, Gwyneth did her best in trying to not look like a complete greenie when she followed her employer's household as they travelled for the meeting of the Council Elders every month. Coming on to her sixth month working for them now, and the girl can safely say she's been to more places over the past six months then in her entire twenty five years since being born. Even standing at the back of the hall ready to come to attention the moment she was summoned, Gwyneth could not help but stare with wide eyes, although she did her best in keeping her jaw from going slack.
Usually, it was the head of the household staff that would accompany, along with the personal steward of the men, but the elder lady had fallen ill the morning they were supposed to travel, and Gwyneth had been the next best option.
It had been a scramble to attempt to find good, presentable clothes Gwyneth would wear when she attended to the family at the public hall, but she eventually had to wear a proper, red dress from another servant. A tad bigger on her due to her small stature, Gwyneth struggled to awkwardly pin the dress up at the back, haphazardly tying her hair back to a serviceable half-ponytail before using her pastel red headscarf to cover her head. That image was what people would see today and now, if they were to see her, but the girl did her best to remain out of sight, servant that she was.
Instead, the brunette merely followed the movement of the family she served with her eyes - eyes which somehow liked to slide to one particularl member of the Jaffe Manheeg. It was funny. When she saw Amiti and his stoic manner, Gwyneth filled with irritation and annoyance at him. He was quiet but intelligent, aspects which made it difficult for Gwyneth to find what she needed to prove Ayala's innocence. But then when she saw Thaddeus, hesitation joined the first two, along with a sense of softness she wanted to deny. Thaddeus was quite unlike his brother, but it was a fact Gwyneth was trying her best to resist, especially she had so obviously pushed him away at the back of the house that day.
She did not even want to entertain the thought of one of the family members she served being different. It had been so much easier when she just assumed the whole family to be of the same ilk, heartless and rash in their decision making. Thaddeus was proving ehr wrong however, and Gwyneth was finding it annoying. Whether that irritation was directed to herself or to him, she wasn't too sure.
But this was no place nor time for her to ponder upon such thoughts. As it was, Amiti seemed to be keeping a closer eye on her ever since that day he had saw her near his study. Her lie had been successful of course, but to what degree, she did not know, and did not want to push her luck. So ever since then, Gwyneth had simply kept her head low and did what was told of her as a dutiful servant was. So instead, she merely allowed her gaze to follow the family, momentarily frowning when she saw Thaddeus walk rather forcefully to their father, before turning her attention back to the general view she kept of all of the men she served.
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For someone as untravelled as she is, Gwyneth did her best in trying to not look like a complete greenie when she followed her employer's household as they travelled for the meeting of the Council Elders every month. Coming on to her sixth month working for them now, and the girl can safely say she's been to more places over the past six months then in her entire twenty five years since being born. Even standing at the back of the hall ready to come to attention the moment she was summoned, Gwyneth could not help but stare with wide eyes, although she did her best in keeping her jaw from going slack.
Usually, it was the head of the household staff that would accompany, along with the personal steward of the men, but the elder lady had fallen ill the morning they were supposed to travel, and Gwyneth had been the next best option.
It had been a scramble to attempt to find good, presentable clothes Gwyneth would wear when she attended to the family at the public hall, but she eventually had to wear a proper, red dress from another servant. A tad bigger on her due to her small stature, Gwyneth struggled to awkwardly pin the dress up at the back, haphazardly tying her hair back to a serviceable half-ponytail before using her pastel red headscarf to cover her head. That image was what people would see today and now, if they were to see her, but the girl did her best to remain out of sight, servant that she was.
Instead, the brunette merely followed the movement of the family she served with her eyes - eyes which somehow liked to slide to one particularl member of the Jaffe Manheeg. It was funny. When she saw Amiti and his stoic manner, Gwyneth filled with irritation and annoyance at him. He was quiet but intelligent, aspects which made it difficult for Gwyneth to find what she needed to prove Ayala's innocence. But then when she saw Thaddeus, hesitation joined the first two, along with a sense of softness she wanted to deny. Thaddeus was quite unlike his brother, but it was a fact Gwyneth was trying her best to resist, especially she had so obviously pushed him away at the back of the house that day.
She did not even want to entertain the thought of one of the family members she served being different. It had been so much easier when she just assumed the whole family to be of the same ilk, heartless and rash in their decision making. Thaddeus was proving ehr wrong however, and Gwyneth was finding it annoying. Whether that irritation was directed to herself or to him, she wasn't too sure.
But this was no place nor time for her to ponder upon such thoughts. As it was, Amiti seemed to be keeping a closer eye on her ever since that day he had saw her near his study. Her lie had been successful of course, but to what degree, she did not know, and did not want to push her luck. So ever since then, Gwyneth had simply kept her head low and did what was told of her as a dutiful servant was. So instead, she merely allowed her gaze to follow the family, momentarily frowning when she saw Thaddeus walk rather forcefully to their father, before turning her attention back to the general view she kept of all of the men she served.
For someone as untravelled as she is, Gwyneth did her best in trying to not look like a complete greenie when she followed her employer's household as they travelled for the meeting of the Council Elders every month. Coming on to her sixth month working for them now, and the girl can safely say she's been to more places over the past six months then in her entire twenty five years since being born. Even standing at the back of the hall ready to come to attention the moment she was summoned, Gwyneth could not help but stare with wide eyes, although she did her best in keeping her jaw from going slack.
Usually, it was the head of the household staff that would accompany, along with the personal steward of the men, but the elder lady had fallen ill the morning they were supposed to travel, and Gwyneth had been the next best option.
It had been a scramble to attempt to find good, presentable clothes Gwyneth would wear when she attended to the family at the public hall, but she eventually had to wear a proper, red dress from another servant. A tad bigger on her due to her small stature, Gwyneth struggled to awkwardly pin the dress up at the back, haphazardly tying her hair back to a serviceable half-ponytail before using her pastel red headscarf to cover her head. That image was what people would see today and now, if they were to see her, but the girl did her best to remain out of sight, servant that she was.
Instead, the brunette merely followed the movement of the family she served with her eyes - eyes which somehow liked to slide to one particularl member of the Jaffe Manheeg. It was funny. When she saw Amiti and his stoic manner, Gwyneth filled with irritation and annoyance at him. He was quiet but intelligent, aspects which made it difficult for Gwyneth to find what she needed to prove Ayala's innocence. But then when she saw Thaddeus, hesitation joined the first two, along with a sense of softness she wanted to deny. Thaddeus was quite unlike his brother, but it was a fact Gwyneth was trying her best to resist, especially she had so obviously pushed him away at the back of the house that day.
She did not even want to entertain the thought of one of the family members she served being different. It had been so much easier when she just assumed the whole family to be of the same ilk, heartless and rash in their decision making. Thaddeus was proving ehr wrong however, and Gwyneth was finding it annoying. Whether that irritation was directed to herself or to him, she wasn't too sure.
But this was no place nor time for her to ponder upon such thoughts. As it was, Amiti seemed to be keeping a closer eye on her ever since that day he had saw her near his study. Her lie had been successful of course, but to what degree, she did not know, and did not want to push her luck. So ever since then, Gwyneth had simply kept her head low and did what was told of her as a dutiful servant was. So instead, she merely allowed her gaze to follow the family, momentarily frowning when she saw Thaddeus walk rather forcefully to their father, before turning her attention back to the general view she kept of all of the men she served.
Irritable was a common enough state for Simeon to find himself in. A man poised on the ever-changing knife's edge of tranquil calm and the anger that burst forth when such a calm was broken, the general state of balance resulted in a generally disapproving state of mind, in which he found fault in all but himself. For he had been raised with too high standards to fall short of those expected of him. And he held his family to just such a state of reverent propriety.
Instead of arriving in due time of earliness like so many others of his Elder brethren, Simeon and his son Abir arrived with almost the chiming of the bells as the sun reached its exact zenith in the sky. A man built on the principles of penitent faith, composed praise and the ultimate respect of powers greater than yourself, Simeon was never tardy and never permitting of his time to be wasted by arriving ahead of the hour. His stockinged foot came down upon the glossy floor of the public hall at precisely the time established for the meeting to begin.
As ruler of Jerusalem - not the capitol of Judea but its religious centre and highest authority upon the Faith - the meeting could not begin without Simeon's advent and, instead, the men within had fallen into general discussion. Greetings, talks and personal concerns - the subjects that might be discussed in the market place or after temple if any of the men lived in the same cities - had taken root in the room and yet they were quashed by the presence of an Elder who was generally considered to be the most vigilante of all Council members.
Whilst Abir walked behind his father with a languid and easy pace that his mighty height managed to permit without slowness of speed, Simeon walked with a sturdy and efficient step that took him to the head of the long rectangle that had been constructed in the centre of the room. Square cushions upon which the Elders might sit where laid out in a long oblong that would soon be filled with seated Judeans as the meeting began. All additional retinue or guests to the event would be forced to stand at the shoulder of their representatives.
Where Abir was calm, the look in his eye open and - at a push - considered to be friendly, Simeon's expression was sombre at best and more likely considered stern by those in the chamber. He took his seat without a word at the end of rectangle, the black cushion lined in golden embroidery becoming his perch, whilst his son took that of a navy-blue seat with bronze tassels at his right. They came with no retinue, for the public hall was no place for women nor that of children and Simeon took only dislike to the decision that others might have made in order to bring either such parties to the Council of Elders meet. Yet, it was not within his authority to chastise. Only to lead discussions and do so by example. In the hopes that all those present would learn from he and the Meier family's strict example.
As if sensing Simeon of Nissim's impatience, it wasn't long before the men of the Judean Council found their seats within the room and a hushed quiet finally stole over their heads. Simeon's expression changed little as he turned to the ages Tzephaniah in order to randomly select him as the first to report news from his own province of the Six Cities.
"Elder Tzephaniah." Simeon stated, without affection nor distaste - only a serene and stony indifference. "Report from Damascus?"
This was the standard way of things. Now that the meet was underway, they were each to make their reports. And it was Simeon's duty as the Elder within the city they were meeting in, to ensure that matters did not come to hand before it was their time; to structure and calm the talk into something productive. They could all go back to their socialising and innocuous chatter when their duties to the people and kingdom were sated. And not before.
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Irritable was a common enough state for Simeon to find himself in. A man poised on the ever-changing knife's edge of tranquil calm and the anger that burst forth when such a calm was broken, the general state of balance resulted in a generally disapproving state of mind, in which he found fault in all but himself. For he had been raised with too high standards to fall short of those expected of him. And he held his family to just such a state of reverent propriety.
Instead of arriving in due time of earliness like so many others of his Elder brethren, Simeon and his son Abir arrived with almost the chiming of the bells as the sun reached its exact zenith in the sky. A man built on the principles of penitent faith, composed praise and the ultimate respect of powers greater than yourself, Simeon was never tardy and never permitting of his time to be wasted by arriving ahead of the hour. His stockinged foot came down upon the glossy floor of the public hall at precisely the time established for the meeting to begin.
As ruler of Jerusalem - not the capitol of Judea but its religious centre and highest authority upon the Faith - the meeting could not begin without Simeon's advent and, instead, the men within had fallen into general discussion. Greetings, talks and personal concerns - the subjects that might be discussed in the market place or after temple if any of the men lived in the same cities - had taken root in the room and yet they were quashed by the presence of an Elder who was generally considered to be the most vigilante of all Council members.
Whilst Abir walked behind his father with a languid and easy pace that his mighty height managed to permit without slowness of speed, Simeon walked with a sturdy and efficient step that took him to the head of the long rectangle that had been constructed in the centre of the room. Square cushions upon which the Elders might sit where laid out in a long oblong that would soon be filled with seated Judeans as the meeting began. All additional retinue or guests to the event would be forced to stand at the shoulder of their representatives.
Where Abir was calm, the look in his eye open and - at a push - considered to be friendly, Simeon's expression was sombre at best and more likely considered stern by those in the chamber. He took his seat without a word at the end of rectangle, the black cushion lined in golden embroidery becoming his perch, whilst his son took that of a navy-blue seat with bronze tassels at his right. They came with no retinue, for the public hall was no place for women nor that of children and Simeon took only dislike to the decision that others might have made in order to bring either such parties to the Council of Elders meet. Yet, it was not within his authority to chastise. Only to lead discussions and do so by example. In the hopes that all those present would learn from he and the Meier family's strict example.
As if sensing Simeon of Nissim's impatience, it wasn't long before the men of the Judean Council found their seats within the room and a hushed quiet finally stole over their heads. Simeon's expression changed little as he turned to the ages Tzephaniah in order to randomly select him as the first to report news from his own province of the Six Cities.
"Elder Tzephaniah." Simeon stated, without affection nor distaste - only a serene and stony indifference. "Report from Damascus?"
This was the standard way of things. Now that the meet was underway, they were each to make their reports. And it was Simeon's duty as the Elder within the city they were meeting in, to ensure that matters did not come to hand before it was their time; to structure and calm the talk into something productive. They could all go back to their socialising and innocuous chatter when their duties to the people and kingdom were sated. And not before.
Irritable was a common enough state for Simeon to find himself in. A man poised on the ever-changing knife's edge of tranquil calm and the anger that burst forth when such a calm was broken, the general state of balance resulted in a generally disapproving state of mind, in which he found fault in all but himself. For he had been raised with too high standards to fall short of those expected of him. And he held his family to just such a state of reverent propriety.
Instead of arriving in due time of earliness like so many others of his Elder brethren, Simeon and his son Abir arrived with almost the chiming of the bells as the sun reached its exact zenith in the sky. A man built on the principles of penitent faith, composed praise and the ultimate respect of powers greater than yourself, Simeon was never tardy and never permitting of his time to be wasted by arriving ahead of the hour. His stockinged foot came down upon the glossy floor of the public hall at precisely the time established for the meeting to begin.
As ruler of Jerusalem - not the capitol of Judea but its religious centre and highest authority upon the Faith - the meeting could not begin without Simeon's advent and, instead, the men within had fallen into general discussion. Greetings, talks and personal concerns - the subjects that might be discussed in the market place or after temple if any of the men lived in the same cities - had taken root in the room and yet they were quashed by the presence of an Elder who was generally considered to be the most vigilante of all Council members.
Whilst Abir walked behind his father with a languid and easy pace that his mighty height managed to permit without slowness of speed, Simeon walked with a sturdy and efficient step that took him to the head of the long rectangle that had been constructed in the centre of the room. Square cushions upon which the Elders might sit where laid out in a long oblong that would soon be filled with seated Judeans as the meeting began. All additional retinue or guests to the event would be forced to stand at the shoulder of their representatives.
Where Abir was calm, the look in his eye open and - at a push - considered to be friendly, Simeon's expression was sombre at best and more likely considered stern by those in the chamber. He took his seat without a word at the end of rectangle, the black cushion lined in golden embroidery becoming his perch, whilst his son took that of a navy-blue seat with bronze tassels at his right. They came with no retinue, for the public hall was no place for women nor that of children and Simeon took only dislike to the decision that others might have made in order to bring either such parties to the Council of Elders meet. Yet, it was not within his authority to chastise. Only to lead discussions and do so by example. In the hopes that all those present would learn from he and the Meier family's strict example.
As if sensing Simeon of Nissim's impatience, it wasn't long before the men of the Judean Council found their seats within the room and a hushed quiet finally stole over their heads. Simeon's expression changed little as he turned to the ages Tzephaniah in order to randomly select him as the first to report news from his own province of the Six Cities.
"Elder Tzephaniah." Simeon stated, without affection nor distaste - only a serene and stony indifference. "Report from Damascus?"
This was the standard way of things. Now that the meet was underway, they were each to make their reports. And it was Simeon's duty as the Elder within the city they were meeting in, to ensure that matters did not come to hand before it was their time; to structure and calm the talk into something productive. They could all go back to their socialising and innocuous chatter when their duties to the people and kingdom were sated. And not before.
“Now? Today?” The alarm on Thaddeus’s face didn’t deter Amiti in the slightest.
“Of course now,” he said briskly, brushing invisible dust off Thaddeus’s shoulder. “Today.” He went further and straightened out a wrinkle in Thaddeus’s robe. Thaddeus’s emotions weren’t hidden and it was easy to see by the man’s expression that he flat out didn’t want to, to which Amiti paid no attention. He knew the feeling well enough himself. No one wanted to marry. You just...did. It was how alliances were made, children were born, houses were taken care of. The world would positively stop spinning if not for the union between man and woman. It was their command, given in the torah, decreed by the one true God; go forth and multiply. It was necessary and if he, who practically detested the thought, would do his duty, then by heaven, Thaddeus and Shiloh would too. Shiloh was getting off easy for now because it was only right that the brothers marry in order. As Amiti had now seen to his own duties, it was his younger brother’s turn. Once that was fixed, then they could see about Shiloh.
“I don’t want to,” Thaddeus whispered and Amiti detected heat behind it.
“No one does,” he hissed back, trying to keep his voice low so that it wouldn’t echo. Amiti relaxed his hold completely as Thaddeus frowned, then the expression softened into resignation, at which point, Amiti let go. He took to straightening his own robes while Thaddeus turned to speak to their father. He paid no more attention to the conversation that Thaddeus and his father had, but was definitely the first to notice Simeon of Nissim’s entrance. Moving swiftly to his father and brother, Amiti gave a single touch to his father’s elbow and one to Thaddeus’s back.
“It’s time,” he said softly and moved promptly to his own seat without looking back to see if anyone else had complied. While he’d have liked to police his brother, he knew better than to do it while his father was looking. The man was patriarch and never let his eldest forget it.
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“Now? Today?” The alarm on Thaddeus’s face didn’t deter Amiti in the slightest.
“Of course now,” he said briskly, brushing invisible dust off Thaddeus’s shoulder. “Today.” He went further and straightened out a wrinkle in Thaddeus’s robe. Thaddeus’s emotions weren’t hidden and it was easy to see by the man’s expression that he flat out didn’t want to, to which Amiti paid no attention. He knew the feeling well enough himself. No one wanted to marry. You just...did. It was how alliances were made, children were born, houses were taken care of. The world would positively stop spinning if not for the union between man and woman. It was their command, given in the torah, decreed by the one true God; go forth and multiply. It was necessary and if he, who practically detested the thought, would do his duty, then by heaven, Thaddeus and Shiloh would too. Shiloh was getting off easy for now because it was only right that the brothers marry in order. As Amiti had now seen to his own duties, it was his younger brother’s turn. Once that was fixed, then they could see about Shiloh.
“I don’t want to,” Thaddeus whispered and Amiti detected heat behind it.
“No one does,” he hissed back, trying to keep his voice low so that it wouldn’t echo. Amiti relaxed his hold completely as Thaddeus frowned, then the expression softened into resignation, at which point, Amiti let go. He took to straightening his own robes while Thaddeus turned to speak to their father. He paid no more attention to the conversation that Thaddeus and his father had, but was definitely the first to notice Simeon of Nissim’s entrance. Moving swiftly to his father and brother, Amiti gave a single touch to his father’s elbow and one to Thaddeus’s back.
“It’s time,” he said softly and moved promptly to his own seat without looking back to see if anyone else had complied. While he’d have liked to police his brother, he knew better than to do it while his father was looking. The man was patriarch and never let his eldest forget it.
“Now? Today?” The alarm on Thaddeus’s face didn’t deter Amiti in the slightest.
“Of course now,” he said briskly, brushing invisible dust off Thaddeus’s shoulder. “Today.” He went further and straightened out a wrinkle in Thaddeus’s robe. Thaddeus’s emotions weren’t hidden and it was easy to see by the man’s expression that he flat out didn’t want to, to which Amiti paid no attention. He knew the feeling well enough himself. No one wanted to marry. You just...did. It was how alliances were made, children were born, houses were taken care of. The world would positively stop spinning if not for the union between man and woman. It was their command, given in the torah, decreed by the one true God; go forth and multiply. It was necessary and if he, who practically detested the thought, would do his duty, then by heaven, Thaddeus and Shiloh would too. Shiloh was getting off easy for now because it was only right that the brothers marry in order. As Amiti had now seen to his own duties, it was his younger brother’s turn. Once that was fixed, then they could see about Shiloh.
“I don’t want to,” Thaddeus whispered and Amiti detected heat behind it.
“No one does,” he hissed back, trying to keep his voice low so that it wouldn’t echo. Amiti relaxed his hold completely as Thaddeus frowned, then the expression softened into resignation, at which point, Amiti let go. He took to straightening his own robes while Thaddeus turned to speak to their father. He paid no more attention to the conversation that Thaddeus and his father had, but was definitely the first to notice Simeon of Nissim’s entrance. Moving swiftly to his father and brother, Amiti gave a single touch to his father’s elbow and one to Thaddeus’s back.
“It’s time,” he said softly and moved promptly to his own seat without looking back to see if anyone else had complied. While he’d have liked to police his brother, he knew better than to do it while his father was looking. The man was patriarch and never let his eldest forget it.
As unhurried now as he was when they’d arrived in Jerusalem. Tzephaniah moved at a holy pace; one of calm, serene reflection. He held none of the manic energy his eldest son had, nor any of the levity that infected his middle son, nor the naivety that his youngest still held onto. He was a man who lived in the world of books, though nothing so silly as fiction. Their study back home held philosophy, religious texts, books on the biology and politics. Things that mattered. He was a little more pleased than Amiti about Maeri of Yonita, not having quite the same level of mistrust of women, but definitely sharing in the distaste. It was he who had pressed his eldest son into looking for a woman in the first place. Amiti had been dragging his feet for far too long in that area.
He’d been standing a little apart from his sons, hands clasped across his abdomen, absently listening to a conversation near him, when he heard Thaddeus’s voice. “Father?”
Tzephaniah did not immediately answer Thaddeus. His prominent nose remained pointed in the direction of the four men who were gathered together merely two arm’s lengths away. Their discussion was heated and Tzephaniah had no wish to join in, though he was working on forming his own opinion on their topic of conversation. They were discussing the recent rise in stonings, and how the current generation of young people seemed more prone to the evils of the world than previous generations. Tzephaniah frowned, deep in thought, carefully cataloging all the men and women he knew, or knew of, looking for patterns to support that claim. He thought of texts he read, and of experiences he’d had. All of this, of course, was interrupted by his middle son and Tzephaniah slowly closed his eyes, sighed at being interrupted, but smiled and opened his eyes, and turned to Thaddeus.
“Yes, my son?” he asked calmly.
“Do you have a moment to speak with me?” Thaddeus asked, adding, “It is important.”
Tzephaniah opened his mouth to answer, but paused at the soft touch to his elbow and turned to find Amiti directing their attention towards the doorway. The Jaffe patriarch looked to where his son pointed and found Simeon of Nissim and his son, Abir, entering into the public hall. The noon bells rang and Tzephaniah nodded to Amiti, only to find the other already gone. Turning to Thaddeus, he drew in a deep breath, and said through a sigh, “It appears we will speak about this important matter later.” Offering his son a reassuring, single pat, he made his way to his seat beside Amiti, the one that designated him head of the Jaffe, and sat down. Dressed in black robes, he was a contrast to Amiti, who had dressed in a still sombre, but arguably more alluring gray. Alluring in that it was lighter in color and mood, though Amiti’s stoney expression indicated he’d have been better suited to the black widower colors his father wore. Though his wife was not dead, Tzephaniah definitely acted like it and was content for people to forget she wasn’t.
Simeon took his place and Tzephaniah was neither shocked, nor perturbed, to be called upon first. He stood, hands still fixed just below his chest, and looked around at his brethren, men he knew well enough, and nodded to them briefly before giving his report in his unhurried, perfunctory manner. Damascus, all in all by the end, had nothing of interest to note: except that an Egyptian of apparently some import had attended the university, that the freak storm that had flown up had not damaged anything not fixable, and that affairs were calm and peaceful, for the present.
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As unhurried now as he was when they’d arrived in Jerusalem. Tzephaniah moved at a holy pace; one of calm, serene reflection. He held none of the manic energy his eldest son had, nor any of the levity that infected his middle son, nor the naivety that his youngest still held onto. He was a man who lived in the world of books, though nothing so silly as fiction. Their study back home held philosophy, religious texts, books on the biology and politics. Things that mattered. He was a little more pleased than Amiti about Maeri of Yonita, not having quite the same level of mistrust of women, but definitely sharing in the distaste. It was he who had pressed his eldest son into looking for a woman in the first place. Amiti had been dragging his feet for far too long in that area.
He’d been standing a little apart from his sons, hands clasped across his abdomen, absently listening to a conversation near him, when he heard Thaddeus’s voice. “Father?”
Tzephaniah did not immediately answer Thaddeus. His prominent nose remained pointed in the direction of the four men who were gathered together merely two arm’s lengths away. Their discussion was heated and Tzephaniah had no wish to join in, though he was working on forming his own opinion on their topic of conversation. They were discussing the recent rise in stonings, and how the current generation of young people seemed more prone to the evils of the world than previous generations. Tzephaniah frowned, deep in thought, carefully cataloging all the men and women he knew, or knew of, looking for patterns to support that claim. He thought of texts he read, and of experiences he’d had. All of this, of course, was interrupted by his middle son and Tzephaniah slowly closed his eyes, sighed at being interrupted, but smiled and opened his eyes, and turned to Thaddeus.
“Yes, my son?” he asked calmly.
“Do you have a moment to speak with me?” Thaddeus asked, adding, “It is important.”
Tzephaniah opened his mouth to answer, but paused at the soft touch to his elbow and turned to find Amiti directing their attention towards the doorway. The Jaffe patriarch looked to where his son pointed and found Simeon of Nissim and his son, Abir, entering into the public hall. The noon bells rang and Tzephaniah nodded to Amiti, only to find the other already gone. Turning to Thaddeus, he drew in a deep breath, and said through a sigh, “It appears we will speak about this important matter later.” Offering his son a reassuring, single pat, he made his way to his seat beside Amiti, the one that designated him head of the Jaffe, and sat down. Dressed in black robes, he was a contrast to Amiti, who had dressed in a still sombre, but arguably more alluring gray. Alluring in that it was lighter in color and mood, though Amiti’s stoney expression indicated he’d have been better suited to the black widower colors his father wore. Though his wife was not dead, Tzephaniah definitely acted like it and was content for people to forget she wasn’t.
Simeon took his place and Tzephaniah was neither shocked, nor perturbed, to be called upon first. He stood, hands still fixed just below his chest, and looked around at his brethren, men he knew well enough, and nodded to them briefly before giving his report in his unhurried, perfunctory manner. Damascus, all in all by the end, had nothing of interest to note: except that an Egyptian of apparently some import had attended the university, that the freak storm that had flown up had not damaged anything not fixable, and that affairs were calm and peaceful, for the present.
As unhurried now as he was when they’d arrived in Jerusalem. Tzephaniah moved at a holy pace; one of calm, serene reflection. He held none of the manic energy his eldest son had, nor any of the levity that infected his middle son, nor the naivety that his youngest still held onto. He was a man who lived in the world of books, though nothing so silly as fiction. Their study back home held philosophy, religious texts, books on the biology and politics. Things that mattered. He was a little more pleased than Amiti about Maeri of Yonita, not having quite the same level of mistrust of women, but definitely sharing in the distaste. It was he who had pressed his eldest son into looking for a woman in the first place. Amiti had been dragging his feet for far too long in that area.
He’d been standing a little apart from his sons, hands clasped across his abdomen, absently listening to a conversation near him, when he heard Thaddeus’s voice. “Father?”
Tzephaniah did not immediately answer Thaddeus. His prominent nose remained pointed in the direction of the four men who were gathered together merely two arm’s lengths away. Their discussion was heated and Tzephaniah had no wish to join in, though he was working on forming his own opinion on their topic of conversation. They were discussing the recent rise in stonings, and how the current generation of young people seemed more prone to the evils of the world than previous generations. Tzephaniah frowned, deep in thought, carefully cataloging all the men and women he knew, or knew of, looking for patterns to support that claim. He thought of texts he read, and of experiences he’d had. All of this, of course, was interrupted by his middle son and Tzephaniah slowly closed his eyes, sighed at being interrupted, but smiled and opened his eyes, and turned to Thaddeus.
“Yes, my son?” he asked calmly.
“Do you have a moment to speak with me?” Thaddeus asked, adding, “It is important.”
Tzephaniah opened his mouth to answer, but paused at the soft touch to his elbow and turned to find Amiti directing their attention towards the doorway. The Jaffe patriarch looked to where his son pointed and found Simeon of Nissim and his son, Abir, entering into the public hall. The noon bells rang and Tzephaniah nodded to Amiti, only to find the other already gone. Turning to Thaddeus, he drew in a deep breath, and said through a sigh, “It appears we will speak about this important matter later.” Offering his son a reassuring, single pat, he made his way to his seat beside Amiti, the one that designated him head of the Jaffe, and sat down. Dressed in black robes, he was a contrast to Amiti, who had dressed in a still sombre, but arguably more alluring gray. Alluring in that it was lighter in color and mood, though Amiti’s stoney expression indicated he’d have been better suited to the black widower colors his father wore. Though his wife was not dead, Tzephaniah definitely acted like it and was content for people to forget she wasn’t.
Simeon took his place and Tzephaniah was neither shocked, nor perturbed, to be called upon first. He stood, hands still fixed just below his chest, and looked around at his brethren, men he knew well enough, and nodded to them briefly before giving his report in his unhurried, perfunctory manner. Damascus, all in all by the end, had nothing of interest to note: except that an Egyptian of apparently some import had attended the university, that the freak storm that had flown up had not damaged anything not fixable, and that affairs were calm and peaceful, for the present.
Simeon waited with patience, never interrupting the old man of Damascus. A man that Simeon admired the devout serenity of but whose speed of life grated a little, he was able to maintain his calm as Head Councilman at this particular meeting. It was the height of foolishness to insult or disrespect a Councilman simply because you held authority upon them for one in every six turn of months. You were only to cripple yourself when it came around to their turn running the session. It was a clever and ingenious system that stopped any one man from claiming supremacy over another. Which, for all his self-certainty in his own abilities, was approved of by Simeon to his heart's core. For no man should hold true authority over God's land.
When the old man - as dusty and slow to change as the tomes and scrolls in his library - was finished with his report, it was Lord Gabriel who spoke before being given the opportunity by his father.
"You should watch your Egyptian." He stated, in a tone that was not quite snapping enough to be considered an order, but certainly cold enough to be given the reality of a statement of fact - one that gave no benefit (and rightly so) to the heretics of the south. "He caused disturbance in Israel only a few weeks ago. An act of barbarism and the spreading of contagion." The man's eyes looked across the room, personal pain and trauma in his eyes. "I should not have to remind this Council of the horrors Egyptians leave in their arrogant wake."
Simeon huffed a low noise of agreement and others of the council nodded softly, not strong or opinionated enough on the matter to demand the exile of the Egyptian in question, but certainly remembering a time of great violence that Egypt had brought upon the Judean people before.
As far as Simeon was concerned, there was to be no acceptance of those outside of the Faith. For those who did not follow the power and judgement of Yahweh could not be trusted to not stab a man in the back without honour or dignity. All those who were not Chosen had chosen a way of life that would taint all they touched. It was why his own family had remained purely Judean for nine generations. It was a struggle to witness Councilman Elhanan take a foreign wife. Even when the woman in question was one of repute and trust within their community.... they were not Jewish. And neither were their tainted offspring.
"You'll have your chance to speak, Councilman Gabriel." Simeon stated, his voice quiet and icy. Yet such a timbre had nothing to do with disapproval for his words and was simply the rigid and ordered manner in which Simeon always spoke - a manner that those around the room would be more than familiar with.
"Councilman Elhanan." He said, instead, turning to the man in question with the heretic wife. "Report please."
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Simeon waited with patience, never interrupting the old man of Damascus. A man that Simeon admired the devout serenity of but whose speed of life grated a little, he was able to maintain his calm as Head Councilman at this particular meeting. It was the height of foolishness to insult or disrespect a Councilman simply because you held authority upon them for one in every six turn of months. You were only to cripple yourself when it came around to their turn running the session. It was a clever and ingenious system that stopped any one man from claiming supremacy over another. Which, for all his self-certainty in his own abilities, was approved of by Simeon to his heart's core. For no man should hold true authority over God's land.
When the old man - as dusty and slow to change as the tomes and scrolls in his library - was finished with his report, it was Lord Gabriel who spoke before being given the opportunity by his father.
"You should watch your Egyptian." He stated, in a tone that was not quite snapping enough to be considered an order, but certainly cold enough to be given the reality of a statement of fact - one that gave no benefit (and rightly so) to the heretics of the south. "He caused disturbance in Israel only a few weeks ago. An act of barbarism and the spreading of contagion." The man's eyes looked across the room, personal pain and trauma in his eyes. "I should not have to remind this Council of the horrors Egyptians leave in their arrogant wake."
Simeon huffed a low noise of agreement and others of the council nodded softly, not strong or opinionated enough on the matter to demand the exile of the Egyptian in question, but certainly remembering a time of great violence that Egypt had brought upon the Judean people before.
As far as Simeon was concerned, there was to be no acceptance of those outside of the Faith. For those who did not follow the power and judgement of Yahweh could not be trusted to not stab a man in the back without honour or dignity. All those who were not Chosen had chosen a way of life that would taint all they touched. It was why his own family had remained purely Judean for nine generations. It was a struggle to witness Councilman Elhanan take a foreign wife. Even when the woman in question was one of repute and trust within their community.... they were not Jewish. And neither were their tainted offspring.
"You'll have your chance to speak, Councilman Gabriel." Simeon stated, his voice quiet and icy. Yet such a timbre had nothing to do with disapproval for his words and was simply the rigid and ordered manner in which Simeon always spoke - a manner that those around the room would be more than familiar with.
"Councilman Elhanan." He said, instead, turning to the man in question with the heretic wife. "Report please."
Simeon waited with patience, never interrupting the old man of Damascus. A man that Simeon admired the devout serenity of but whose speed of life grated a little, he was able to maintain his calm as Head Councilman at this particular meeting. It was the height of foolishness to insult or disrespect a Councilman simply because you held authority upon them for one in every six turn of months. You were only to cripple yourself when it came around to their turn running the session. It was a clever and ingenious system that stopped any one man from claiming supremacy over another. Which, for all his self-certainty in his own abilities, was approved of by Simeon to his heart's core. For no man should hold true authority over God's land.
When the old man - as dusty and slow to change as the tomes and scrolls in his library - was finished with his report, it was Lord Gabriel who spoke before being given the opportunity by his father.
"You should watch your Egyptian." He stated, in a tone that was not quite snapping enough to be considered an order, but certainly cold enough to be given the reality of a statement of fact - one that gave no benefit (and rightly so) to the heretics of the south. "He caused disturbance in Israel only a few weeks ago. An act of barbarism and the spreading of contagion." The man's eyes looked across the room, personal pain and trauma in his eyes. "I should not have to remind this Council of the horrors Egyptians leave in their arrogant wake."
Simeon huffed a low noise of agreement and others of the council nodded softly, not strong or opinionated enough on the matter to demand the exile of the Egyptian in question, but certainly remembering a time of great violence that Egypt had brought upon the Judean people before.
As far as Simeon was concerned, there was to be no acceptance of those outside of the Faith. For those who did not follow the power and judgement of Yahweh could not be trusted to not stab a man in the back without honour or dignity. All those who were not Chosen had chosen a way of life that would taint all they touched. It was why his own family had remained purely Judean for nine generations. It was a struggle to witness Councilman Elhanan take a foreign wife. Even when the woman in question was one of repute and trust within their community.... they were not Jewish. And neither were their tainted offspring.
"You'll have your chance to speak, Councilman Gabriel." Simeon stated, his voice quiet and icy. Yet such a timbre had nothing to do with disapproval for his words and was simply the rigid and ordered manner in which Simeon always spoke - a manner that those around the room would be more than familiar with.
"Councilman Elhanan." He said, instead, turning to the man in question with the heretic wife. "Report please."
Elhanan watched the men around him carefully and quietly. His wife and daughter were off shopping in the city as was proper and his sons. Caleb had gone to the Temple instead of coming to the meeting and Cane had somehow managed to make himself scarce. Elhanan could not fault his second son his excitement nor devotion to the torah but his first. His first was nearing the end of his father's grace. Perhaps war would be good for the boy.
So it was that Elhanan found himself one of the least attended participants of the meeting and with the rising tensions with Egypt and increasing suspicion of outsiders, he felt old wounds about his choice of wife in the looks cast his way.
Elhanan's concerns at this meeting were purely financial. Regardless of what the rest of the world was doing, trade must not be affected if they were to continue to flourish. While not wholly approving of his younger brother's proclivity to spoiling his daughters, Elhanan's main concern was insuring the Haviv family's survival and continued growth. Speaking of growth, matches also needed to be made.
Having insured his brother's marriage and his own two marriages, Elhanan had relaxed a little on that aspect of the family business as the children grew but now all were young men and women and marriages would need to be arranged soon if they were to be kept out of sin.
While technically his brother's daughters were Rechavia’s concern and not Elhanan’s, as head of the family, all potential alliances and business deals were part of Elhanan’s purview. Yet Elhanan was not ignorant to the fact that Rechavia’s daughters were as one might say, less than ideal wife material if one spoke plainly as a merchant. Elhanan’s eyes scanned the men around him and wondered whose son’s might make good matches for such women. Who would keep them from straying into sin but also be tolerant enough to not divorce them? It would take some thought.
And then there was his own sons. Cane. Was the boy a suitable husband for any woman? It would need to be someone meek and long suffering that was for sure. Maeri of Yonita was now taken from the sound of it. Perhaps one of her older sisters. It was very odd that the family was marrying off the younger before her elder sisters. And Caleb. Well that boy would have to take his nose out of the scrolls long enough to notice a woman. No that would definitely have to be arranged by Elhanan. The boy would never find a woman among those dusty aisles he lived in.
Amarissa. His sweet desert flower. She looked so much like her mother and her strong will was clearly from non-Jewish stock. Would any of the men around him even let their sons marry someone such as her? He never showed it in his words but his eyes would take on a certain softness around her and his chastisements regarding her wanderings were perhaps less strong than they should have been considering how frequently they occurred. Yes it would take a special man to handle that young arabian mare.
His thoughts were interrupted as the men started shuffling over to their cushions and the meeting was called to order. Moving at a pace understandable for a man of 64 years, he was the oldest by a year of the men gathered there. He had seen conflicts come and go and the best strategy he had seen so far was to simply hunker down and let it pass. Trade was what sustained a nation, it mattered not who occupied it as long as trade was allowed to continue relatively unhindered.
He tried to listen as Tzephaniah droned on about this and that in Damascus. Nothing of note ever happened in Damascus. This month would be no different. He glanced at the boys beside him and considered them briefly. Amiti was betrothed it appeared and it was probably for the best. That man would definitely not tolerate the likes of his brother’s daughters. Now Thaddeus or young Shiloh. Yes those were young men who might be able to tolerate the whims of such women. The question was whether they would be rich enough to sustain their appetites.
He was pulled by his thoughts by the talk of an egyptian and this made him consider Tzephaniah carefully. He had not thought him tolerant enough to consider the contributions of an outsider such as an Egyptian but was impressed nonetheless. Yes perhaps there was the possibilities of marriage and trade with this family. Damascus was out of the way but not unimportant in regards to trade routes. Having family there could be very...useful. At Gabriel’s words Elhanan made note to stay away from him in regards to any potential matches.
Soon enough the discussion came around to him. Taking his time to stand, there really wasn’t much other option in truth given his age, Elhanan spoke in quiet but confident tone as his spoke of the current affairs in Ammun. Trade for the moment remained relatively unaffected by the wars though more metals, woods, fabrics and leathers had been traveling both to Greece and Egypt. It was not Elhanan’s place to speculate as to what these materials would be used for but he certainly was not one to ignore the possibility for gain and had made appropriate measures to keep his family in play. He did not speak on his own actions to these men as they were not businessmen of similar caliber in his mind and so would have little grasp of how the world worked outside of their religious enclaves. So his report was vague but positive. Speaking only of increased trade possibilities and potential new routes that could be more advantageous and potential security measures for the camel trains to ensure there would be no disruption to this kingdom’s business life line. While his body may have been showing the signs of the years Yahweh had blessed him with, his mind was still as sharp and calculating as ever.
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Elhanan watched the men around him carefully and quietly. His wife and daughter were off shopping in the city as was proper and his sons. Caleb had gone to the Temple instead of coming to the meeting and Cane had somehow managed to make himself scarce. Elhanan could not fault his second son his excitement nor devotion to the torah but his first. His first was nearing the end of his father's grace. Perhaps war would be good for the boy.
So it was that Elhanan found himself one of the least attended participants of the meeting and with the rising tensions with Egypt and increasing suspicion of outsiders, he felt old wounds about his choice of wife in the looks cast his way.
Elhanan's concerns at this meeting were purely financial. Regardless of what the rest of the world was doing, trade must not be affected if they were to continue to flourish. While not wholly approving of his younger brother's proclivity to spoiling his daughters, Elhanan's main concern was insuring the Haviv family's survival and continued growth. Speaking of growth, matches also needed to be made.
Having insured his brother's marriage and his own two marriages, Elhanan had relaxed a little on that aspect of the family business as the children grew but now all were young men and women and marriages would need to be arranged soon if they were to be kept out of sin.
While technically his brother's daughters were Rechavia’s concern and not Elhanan’s, as head of the family, all potential alliances and business deals were part of Elhanan’s purview. Yet Elhanan was not ignorant to the fact that Rechavia’s daughters were as one might say, less than ideal wife material if one spoke plainly as a merchant. Elhanan’s eyes scanned the men around him and wondered whose son’s might make good matches for such women. Who would keep them from straying into sin but also be tolerant enough to not divorce them? It would take some thought.
And then there was his own sons. Cane. Was the boy a suitable husband for any woman? It would need to be someone meek and long suffering that was for sure. Maeri of Yonita was now taken from the sound of it. Perhaps one of her older sisters. It was very odd that the family was marrying off the younger before her elder sisters. And Caleb. Well that boy would have to take his nose out of the scrolls long enough to notice a woman. No that would definitely have to be arranged by Elhanan. The boy would never find a woman among those dusty aisles he lived in.
Amarissa. His sweet desert flower. She looked so much like her mother and her strong will was clearly from non-Jewish stock. Would any of the men around him even let their sons marry someone such as her? He never showed it in his words but his eyes would take on a certain softness around her and his chastisements regarding her wanderings were perhaps less strong than they should have been considering how frequently they occurred. Yes it would take a special man to handle that young arabian mare.
His thoughts were interrupted as the men started shuffling over to their cushions and the meeting was called to order. Moving at a pace understandable for a man of 64 years, he was the oldest by a year of the men gathered there. He had seen conflicts come and go and the best strategy he had seen so far was to simply hunker down and let it pass. Trade was what sustained a nation, it mattered not who occupied it as long as trade was allowed to continue relatively unhindered.
He tried to listen as Tzephaniah droned on about this and that in Damascus. Nothing of note ever happened in Damascus. This month would be no different. He glanced at the boys beside him and considered them briefly. Amiti was betrothed it appeared and it was probably for the best. That man would definitely not tolerate the likes of his brother’s daughters. Now Thaddeus or young Shiloh. Yes those were young men who might be able to tolerate the whims of such women. The question was whether they would be rich enough to sustain their appetites.
He was pulled by his thoughts by the talk of an egyptian and this made him consider Tzephaniah carefully. He had not thought him tolerant enough to consider the contributions of an outsider such as an Egyptian but was impressed nonetheless. Yes perhaps there was the possibilities of marriage and trade with this family. Damascus was out of the way but not unimportant in regards to trade routes. Having family there could be very...useful. At Gabriel’s words Elhanan made note to stay away from him in regards to any potential matches.
Soon enough the discussion came around to him. Taking his time to stand, there really wasn’t much other option in truth given his age, Elhanan spoke in quiet but confident tone as his spoke of the current affairs in Ammun. Trade for the moment remained relatively unaffected by the wars though more metals, woods, fabrics and leathers had been traveling both to Greece and Egypt. It was not Elhanan’s place to speculate as to what these materials would be used for but he certainly was not one to ignore the possibility for gain and had made appropriate measures to keep his family in play. He did not speak on his own actions to these men as they were not businessmen of similar caliber in his mind and so would have little grasp of how the world worked outside of their religious enclaves. So his report was vague but positive. Speaking only of increased trade possibilities and potential new routes that could be more advantageous and potential security measures for the camel trains to ensure there would be no disruption to this kingdom’s business life line. While his body may have been showing the signs of the years Yahweh had blessed him with, his mind was still as sharp and calculating as ever.
Elhanan watched the men around him carefully and quietly. His wife and daughter were off shopping in the city as was proper and his sons. Caleb had gone to the Temple instead of coming to the meeting and Cane had somehow managed to make himself scarce. Elhanan could not fault his second son his excitement nor devotion to the torah but his first. His first was nearing the end of his father's grace. Perhaps war would be good for the boy.
So it was that Elhanan found himself one of the least attended participants of the meeting and with the rising tensions with Egypt and increasing suspicion of outsiders, he felt old wounds about his choice of wife in the looks cast his way.
Elhanan's concerns at this meeting were purely financial. Regardless of what the rest of the world was doing, trade must not be affected if they were to continue to flourish. While not wholly approving of his younger brother's proclivity to spoiling his daughters, Elhanan's main concern was insuring the Haviv family's survival and continued growth. Speaking of growth, matches also needed to be made.
Having insured his brother's marriage and his own two marriages, Elhanan had relaxed a little on that aspect of the family business as the children grew but now all were young men and women and marriages would need to be arranged soon if they were to be kept out of sin.
While technically his brother's daughters were Rechavia’s concern and not Elhanan’s, as head of the family, all potential alliances and business deals were part of Elhanan’s purview. Yet Elhanan was not ignorant to the fact that Rechavia’s daughters were as one might say, less than ideal wife material if one spoke plainly as a merchant. Elhanan’s eyes scanned the men around him and wondered whose son’s might make good matches for such women. Who would keep them from straying into sin but also be tolerant enough to not divorce them? It would take some thought.
And then there was his own sons. Cane. Was the boy a suitable husband for any woman? It would need to be someone meek and long suffering that was for sure. Maeri of Yonita was now taken from the sound of it. Perhaps one of her older sisters. It was very odd that the family was marrying off the younger before her elder sisters. And Caleb. Well that boy would have to take his nose out of the scrolls long enough to notice a woman. No that would definitely have to be arranged by Elhanan. The boy would never find a woman among those dusty aisles he lived in.
Amarissa. His sweet desert flower. She looked so much like her mother and her strong will was clearly from non-Jewish stock. Would any of the men around him even let their sons marry someone such as her? He never showed it in his words but his eyes would take on a certain softness around her and his chastisements regarding her wanderings were perhaps less strong than they should have been considering how frequently they occurred. Yes it would take a special man to handle that young arabian mare.
His thoughts were interrupted as the men started shuffling over to their cushions and the meeting was called to order. Moving at a pace understandable for a man of 64 years, he was the oldest by a year of the men gathered there. He had seen conflicts come and go and the best strategy he had seen so far was to simply hunker down and let it pass. Trade was what sustained a nation, it mattered not who occupied it as long as trade was allowed to continue relatively unhindered.
He tried to listen as Tzephaniah droned on about this and that in Damascus. Nothing of note ever happened in Damascus. This month would be no different. He glanced at the boys beside him and considered them briefly. Amiti was betrothed it appeared and it was probably for the best. That man would definitely not tolerate the likes of his brother’s daughters. Now Thaddeus or young Shiloh. Yes those were young men who might be able to tolerate the whims of such women. The question was whether they would be rich enough to sustain their appetites.
He was pulled by his thoughts by the talk of an egyptian and this made him consider Tzephaniah carefully. He had not thought him tolerant enough to consider the contributions of an outsider such as an Egyptian but was impressed nonetheless. Yes perhaps there was the possibilities of marriage and trade with this family. Damascus was out of the way but not unimportant in regards to trade routes. Having family there could be very...useful. At Gabriel’s words Elhanan made note to stay away from him in regards to any potential matches.
Soon enough the discussion came around to him. Taking his time to stand, there really wasn’t much other option in truth given his age, Elhanan spoke in quiet but confident tone as his spoke of the current affairs in Ammun. Trade for the moment remained relatively unaffected by the wars though more metals, woods, fabrics and leathers had been traveling both to Greece and Egypt. It was not Elhanan’s place to speculate as to what these materials would be used for but he certainly was not one to ignore the possibility for gain and had made appropriate measures to keep his family in play. He did not speak on his own actions to these men as they were not businessmen of similar caliber in his mind and so would have little grasp of how the world worked outside of their religious enclaves. So his report was vague but positive. Speaking only of increased trade possibilities and potential new routes that could be more advantageous and potential security measures for the camel trains to ensure there would be no disruption to this kingdom’s business life line. While his body may have been showing the signs of the years Yahweh had blessed him with, his mind was still as sharp and calculating as ever.
Tzephaniah was no more ruffled by Gabriel of Gurion’s remark than he would have been by the man abruptly spouting off word that the sun was shining. The patriarch’s eyes had been on Simeon’s the entire time he gave his report, but now, they wandered from the Head Councilman, passing over the heads of several other men until they came to rest of Gabriel’s pinched, haggard face. Or, he seemed that way to Tzephaniah, at least. He almost envied the man the loss of his wife. It was an easier burden to bear than the burden he lived with. But he supposed within himself, that it is easier to imagine that someone else’s pain is a thing one would manage better than one’s own.
"You should watch your Egyptian. He caused disturbance in Israel only a few weeks ago. An act of barbarism and the spreading of contagion. I should not have to remind this Council of the horrors Egyptians leave in their arrogant wake."
Amiti shifted in his seat and crossed one arm over his body, while setting the fist of his other hand against his mouth. It was the only indication he gave of his immense irritation with Lord Gabriel’s impertinence. Tzephaniah knew well enough that his eldest would have loved nothing more than to argue that, but he’d trained Amiti better than to act on that impulse. The older man smiled, hands still clasped over his chest in the same way people did for a great belly laugh, though this was more his habit of simply resting them their so that they did not look under utilized by his sides. He detested idleness.
“And so it was,” he agreed placidly, slowly, ponderously. “My own son was unfortunate enough to witness the barbarism first hand, and Damascus shares the contempt we all have of Egypt and her people. Hedonistic, godless heathens that they may be. The only point I feel it incumbent upon me to remind you, is that the Egpytian does not belong to Manheeg Jaffe. His movements were not unknown to us, but we will take no responsibility for his sin that took place in Israel, rather than our own fair city.”
This entire speech was said in such a languid, unobtrusive manner, that even if the words themselves inflamed Gabriel, the tone was too civil and too monotonous as to rouse anyone to fight. Tzephaniah’s steady gaze remained wholly on Gabriel the entire time. Unlike Amiti, Tzephaniah was mostly unwilling to fight someone. He didn’t care enough about correcting their errant opinions to do so. Amiti would argue with a camel if it meant that someone finally saw his line of thinking. To avoid undoing his father’s intentions, Amiti closed his eyes the entire time, counting backwards from two hundred in his head, but his father spoke so slowly, that he’d had to start again before the man’s words were finished. Sitting down, Tzephaniah once more returned his gaze forward, no more thinking on what had just happened as he had been doing prior to the event. It was done and gone.
"You'll have your chance to speak, Councilman Gabriel." Simeon stated and that was that. Amiti shifted in his seat, dropping his fist, and shot a single look toward Gabriel. ‘Your Egyptian’ indeed. That remark had so irritated him that he started to lean over to whisper something to his father, who merely turned his ear away. Drawing in a loud breath through his nose, Amiti jerked his attention to Elhanan, who spoke next. He briefly thought of Amarissa the second he laid eyes on the older man. They had the same way of speaking and he found that distracting. Amarissa was a distracting person in every sense of the word and she was managing to keep his mind off this meeting without even being here. Tzephaniah made a loud sniffing sound, cleared his throat as though no one else was in the room, and lapsed into silence again. That was enough of a distraction for Amiti’s thoughts not to wander toward pleasanter avenues. They were now firmly on embarrassment. He would find ways not to bring his aging father out into public anymore.
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Check out their information page here.
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Tzephaniah was no more ruffled by Gabriel of Gurion’s remark than he would have been by the man abruptly spouting off word that the sun was shining. The patriarch’s eyes had been on Simeon’s the entire time he gave his report, but now, they wandered from the Head Councilman, passing over the heads of several other men until they came to rest of Gabriel’s pinched, haggard face. Or, he seemed that way to Tzephaniah, at least. He almost envied the man the loss of his wife. It was an easier burden to bear than the burden he lived with. But he supposed within himself, that it is easier to imagine that someone else’s pain is a thing one would manage better than one’s own.
"You should watch your Egyptian. He caused disturbance in Israel only a few weeks ago. An act of barbarism and the spreading of contagion. I should not have to remind this Council of the horrors Egyptians leave in their arrogant wake."
Amiti shifted in his seat and crossed one arm over his body, while setting the fist of his other hand against his mouth. It was the only indication he gave of his immense irritation with Lord Gabriel’s impertinence. Tzephaniah knew well enough that his eldest would have loved nothing more than to argue that, but he’d trained Amiti better than to act on that impulse. The older man smiled, hands still clasped over his chest in the same way people did for a great belly laugh, though this was more his habit of simply resting them their so that they did not look under utilized by his sides. He detested idleness.
“And so it was,” he agreed placidly, slowly, ponderously. “My own son was unfortunate enough to witness the barbarism first hand, and Damascus shares the contempt we all have of Egypt and her people. Hedonistic, godless heathens that they may be. The only point I feel it incumbent upon me to remind you, is that the Egpytian does not belong to Manheeg Jaffe. His movements were not unknown to us, but we will take no responsibility for his sin that took place in Israel, rather than our own fair city.”
This entire speech was said in such a languid, unobtrusive manner, that even if the words themselves inflamed Gabriel, the tone was too civil and too monotonous as to rouse anyone to fight. Tzephaniah’s steady gaze remained wholly on Gabriel the entire time. Unlike Amiti, Tzephaniah was mostly unwilling to fight someone. He didn’t care enough about correcting their errant opinions to do so. Amiti would argue with a camel if it meant that someone finally saw his line of thinking. To avoid undoing his father’s intentions, Amiti closed his eyes the entire time, counting backwards from two hundred in his head, but his father spoke so slowly, that he’d had to start again before the man’s words were finished. Sitting down, Tzephaniah once more returned his gaze forward, no more thinking on what had just happened as he had been doing prior to the event. It was done and gone.
"You'll have your chance to speak, Councilman Gabriel." Simeon stated and that was that. Amiti shifted in his seat, dropping his fist, and shot a single look toward Gabriel. ‘Your Egyptian’ indeed. That remark had so irritated him that he started to lean over to whisper something to his father, who merely turned his ear away. Drawing in a loud breath through his nose, Amiti jerked his attention to Elhanan, who spoke next. He briefly thought of Amarissa the second he laid eyes on the older man. They had the same way of speaking and he found that distracting. Amarissa was a distracting person in every sense of the word and she was managing to keep his mind off this meeting without even being here. Tzephaniah made a loud sniffing sound, cleared his throat as though no one else was in the room, and lapsed into silence again. That was enough of a distraction for Amiti’s thoughts not to wander toward pleasanter avenues. They were now firmly on embarrassment. He would find ways not to bring his aging father out into public anymore.
Tzephaniah was no more ruffled by Gabriel of Gurion’s remark than he would have been by the man abruptly spouting off word that the sun was shining. The patriarch’s eyes had been on Simeon’s the entire time he gave his report, but now, they wandered from the Head Councilman, passing over the heads of several other men until they came to rest of Gabriel’s pinched, haggard face. Or, he seemed that way to Tzephaniah, at least. He almost envied the man the loss of his wife. It was an easier burden to bear than the burden he lived with. But he supposed within himself, that it is easier to imagine that someone else’s pain is a thing one would manage better than one’s own.
"You should watch your Egyptian. He caused disturbance in Israel only a few weeks ago. An act of barbarism and the spreading of contagion. I should not have to remind this Council of the horrors Egyptians leave in their arrogant wake."
Amiti shifted in his seat and crossed one arm over his body, while setting the fist of his other hand against his mouth. It was the only indication he gave of his immense irritation with Lord Gabriel’s impertinence. Tzephaniah knew well enough that his eldest would have loved nothing more than to argue that, but he’d trained Amiti better than to act on that impulse. The older man smiled, hands still clasped over his chest in the same way people did for a great belly laugh, though this was more his habit of simply resting them their so that they did not look under utilized by his sides. He detested idleness.
“And so it was,” he agreed placidly, slowly, ponderously. “My own son was unfortunate enough to witness the barbarism first hand, and Damascus shares the contempt we all have of Egypt and her people. Hedonistic, godless heathens that they may be. The only point I feel it incumbent upon me to remind you, is that the Egpytian does not belong to Manheeg Jaffe. His movements were not unknown to us, but we will take no responsibility for his sin that took place in Israel, rather than our own fair city.”
This entire speech was said in such a languid, unobtrusive manner, that even if the words themselves inflamed Gabriel, the tone was too civil and too monotonous as to rouse anyone to fight. Tzephaniah’s steady gaze remained wholly on Gabriel the entire time. Unlike Amiti, Tzephaniah was mostly unwilling to fight someone. He didn’t care enough about correcting their errant opinions to do so. Amiti would argue with a camel if it meant that someone finally saw his line of thinking. To avoid undoing his father’s intentions, Amiti closed his eyes the entire time, counting backwards from two hundred in his head, but his father spoke so slowly, that he’d had to start again before the man’s words were finished. Sitting down, Tzephaniah once more returned his gaze forward, no more thinking on what had just happened as he had been doing prior to the event. It was done and gone.
"You'll have your chance to speak, Councilman Gabriel." Simeon stated and that was that. Amiti shifted in his seat, dropping his fist, and shot a single look toward Gabriel. ‘Your Egyptian’ indeed. That remark had so irritated him that he started to lean over to whisper something to his father, who merely turned his ear away. Drawing in a loud breath through his nose, Amiti jerked his attention to Elhanan, who spoke next. He briefly thought of Amarissa the second he laid eyes on the older man. They had the same way of speaking and he found that distracting. Amarissa was a distracting person in every sense of the word and she was managing to keep his mind off this meeting without even being here. Tzephaniah made a loud sniffing sound, cleared his throat as though no one else was in the room, and lapsed into silence again. That was enough of a distraction for Amiti’s thoughts not to wander toward pleasanter avenues. They were now firmly on embarrassment. He would find ways not to bring his aging father out into public anymore.
Old misers the lot of them.
Simeon admitted that he was far from the youngest man within the Council of Elders. And yet he always saw himself as far more youthful than the chomping has-beens that sat around the room. Set in their ways, focused on what they deemed to be the most important - be it trade or books - none of them heralded themselves as the religious leaders of their areas. They did not remember the main focus of their purpose. To lead their people in a righteous way of life. And to lead, you led by example.
It was why Simeon was so exact, so specific, so calculating in exactly how he did everything. So judging and unyielding when it came to what was right and wrong. His own son, Abir was a thriving example of his teachings and whilst his daughter was a little too opinionated for a woman's position in life, she was pretty enough and devout enough to make up for it. His wife was occasionally a let-down but given that she had produced him with two such children - particularly so proper a son, Simeon could forgive a few mistakes once he had made sure that the lesson from such errors had been understood. Forgiveness was the way of the Lord after all. Forgiveness and wrath.
Allowing Elhanan to make his report, Simeon listened hard and intently but he made no comment or reaction over the news. He preferred to keep his thoughts inside and to voice then with arrogance would be the sin of pride. Instead, he simply nodded when the man was done and then looked expectantly to Elder Moshehh and Elder Gurion in turn.
Whilst the leader of Moabb's report was similar to that of Elhanan's - the positivity of trade and the comments of progress - and therefore the same one he made every month; Simeon was more interested in that of Gurion's information.
The city of Moab was one that was isolated from all external factors and operated as a trading port used almost exclusively by Judeans. A sort of fake opening to the world that was only ever used by natives. A sham of internationality. The reports were never any different than what was to be expected and only necessary to ensure that all business was conducted as the expected and that records matched with other cities. Else it was possible that thieves or pirates were occupying the waters between.
What was of more interest was the discussion that Gurion could bring to the table from Israel.
With murmurs of war in the distance to the south of Judea, Israel was the closest to such potential combat. They housed Grecian soldiers for this very reason. They, the Elder family, had lost all of the women in two generations of their name to the effects of the last war. And Simeon was not interested in seeing the fate of Judea fall once again into the hands of Egypt.
When Gurion reported of unrest and disquiet between the Hebrews and the Greeks, Simeon's lip wrinkled back in disgust. Ten years the heathens had been in the land of the Chosen and yet they still brewed anguish and discontent. Would they never learn to just exist in peace with those benevolent enough to offer them the lands they needed for their protective detail?
"I'm sure I speak for the Council when I advise the withdrawal of Judea from as much of this violence as possible. Let the Greeks have their little war but keep it far from our lands. I put to the Council that we do not permit injured soldiers back inside the walls of Israel. We all know the horror that plague can cause and the disease that is so likely in regards to those that are injured. Wounds breed illness. And it is not for our sake that such wounds were inflicted. What say you, Elders?"
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Old misers the lot of them.
Simeon admitted that he was far from the youngest man within the Council of Elders. And yet he always saw himself as far more youthful than the chomping has-beens that sat around the room. Set in their ways, focused on what they deemed to be the most important - be it trade or books - none of them heralded themselves as the religious leaders of their areas. They did not remember the main focus of their purpose. To lead their people in a righteous way of life. And to lead, you led by example.
It was why Simeon was so exact, so specific, so calculating in exactly how he did everything. So judging and unyielding when it came to what was right and wrong. His own son, Abir was a thriving example of his teachings and whilst his daughter was a little too opinionated for a woman's position in life, she was pretty enough and devout enough to make up for it. His wife was occasionally a let-down but given that she had produced him with two such children - particularly so proper a son, Simeon could forgive a few mistakes once he had made sure that the lesson from such errors had been understood. Forgiveness was the way of the Lord after all. Forgiveness and wrath.
Allowing Elhanan to make his report, Simeon listened hard and intently but he made no comment or reaction over the news. He preferred to keep his thoughts inside and to voice then with arrogance would be the sin of pride. Instead, he simply nodded when the man was done and then looked expectantly to Elder Moshehh and Elder Gurion in turn.
Whilst the leader of Moabb's report was similar to that of Elhanan's - the positivity of trade and the comments of progress - and therefore the same one he made every month; Simeon was more interested in that of Gurion's information.
The city of Moab was one that was isolated from all external factors and operated as a trading port used almost exclusively by Judeans. A sort of fake opening to the world that was only ever used by natives. A sham of internationality. The reports were never any different than what was to be expected and only necessary to ensure that all business was conducted as the expected and that records matched with other cities. Else it was possible that thieves or pirates were occupying the waters between.
What was of more interest was the discussion that Gurion could bring to the table from Israel.
With murmurs of war in the distance to the south of Judea, Israel was the closest to such potential combat. They housed Grecian soldiers for this very reason. They, the Elder family, had lost all of the women in two generations of their name to the effects of the last war. And Simeon was not interested in seeing the fate of Judea fall once again into the hands of Egypt.
When Gurion reported of unrest and disquiet between the Hebrews and the Greeks, Simeon's lip wrinkled back in disgust. Ten years the heathens had been in the land of the Chosen and yet they still brewed anguish and discontent. Would they never learn to just exist in peace with those benevolent enough to offer them the lands they needed for their protective detail?
"I'm sure I speak for the Council when I advise the withdrawal of Judea from as much of this violence as possible. Let the Greeks have their little war but keep it far from our lands. I put to the Council that we do not permit injured soldiers back inside the walls of Israel. We all know the horror that plague can cause and the disease that is so likely in regards to those that are injured. Wounds breed illness. And it is not for our sake that such wounds were inflicted. What say you, Elders?"
Old misers the lot of them.
Simeon admitted that he was far from the youngest man within the Council of Elders. And yet he always saw himself as far more youthful than the chomping has-beens that sat around the room. Set in their ways, focused on what they deemed to be the most important - be it trade or books - none of them heralded themselves as the religious leaders of their areas. They did not remember the main focus of their purpose. To lead their people in a righteous way of life. And to lead, you led by example.
It was why Simeon was so exact, so specific, so calculating in exactly how he did everything. So judging and unyielding when it came to what was right and wrong. His own son, Abir was a thriving example of his teachings and whilst his daughter was a little too opinionated for a woman's position in life, she was pretty enough and devout enough to make up for it. His wife was occasionally a let-down but given that she had produced him with two such children - particularly so proper a son, Simeon could forgive a few mistakes once he had made sure that the lesson from such errors had been understood. Forgiveness was the way of the Lord after all. Forgiveness and wrath.
Allowing Elhanan to make his report, Simeon listened hard and intently but he made no comment or reaction over the news. He preferred to keep his thoughts inside and to voice then with arrogance would be the sin of pride. Instead, he simply nodded when the man was done and then looked expectantly to Elder Moshehh and Elder Gurion in turn.
Whilst the leader of Moabb's report was similar to that of Elhanan's - the positivity of trade and the comments of progress - and therefore the same one he made every month; Simeon was more interested in that of Gurion's information.
The city of Moab was one that was isolated from all external factors and operated as a trading port used almost exclusively by Judeans. A sort of fake opening to the world that was only ever used by natives. A sham of internationality. The reports were never any different than what was to be expected and only necessary to ensure that all business was conducted as the expected and that records matched with other cities. Else it was possible that thieves or pirates were occupying the waters between.
What was of more interest was the discussion that Gurion could bring to the table from Israel.
With murmurs of war in the distance to the south of Judea, Israel was the closest to such potential combat. They housed Grecian soldiers for this very reason. They, the Elder family, had lost all of the women in two generations of their name to the effects of the last war. And Simeon was not interested in seeing the fate of Judea fall once again into the hands of Egypt.
When Gurion reported of unrest and disquiet between the Hebrews and the Greeks, Simeon's lip wrinkled back in disgust. Ten years the heathens had been in the land of the Chosen and yet they still brewed anguish and discontent. Would they never learn to just exist in peace with those benevolent enough to offer them the lands they needed for their protective detail?
"I'm sure I speak for the Council when I advise the withdrawal of Judea from as much of this violence as possible. Let the Greeks have their little war but keep it far from our lands. I put to the Council that we do not permit injured soldiers back inside the walls of Israel. We all know the horror that plague can cause and the disease that is so likely in regards to those that are injured. Wounds breed illness. And it is not for our sake that such wounds were inflicted. What say you, Elders?"
Amiti seemed to be pushy enough for Thaddeus to obey, though he certainly didn't want to. He didn't want to think about the possibility of marrying anyone right now. Amiti seemed to think it was a fine idea but… it just didn't seem very pleasant. Not only because it would mean marriage but because he knew father wasn't going to approve who he wanted to marry… Thaddeus wasn't even sure how he was going to tell them he liked a servant girl. Well, more than I liked, but that meant it was even worse. Thaddeus huffed as he looked at his brother, and thought about simply walking out. In the end, Thad respected Amiti and couldn't disobey his brother's wishes. This also wasn't the time to make a scene. With one last look towards his older brother, Thaddeus made his way towards their father, Tzephaniah. The young man approached the high ranking lord, trying to do it respectfully as he could. They were already in a heated argument, and while Thaddeus was having second thoughts, he knew as long as he tried it would get his brother off of his back. If he failed, well… then that was Father's doing, not his.
He watched as more people came into the room, and Thaddeus couldn't help but sigh out in relief. It was a welcome distraction, and he already could assume he wouldn't be able to talk about potential marriage. There was a war brewing. It was just enough for Thaddeus to get out of saying what he was hoping desperately not to say, and as soon as his father said the words, he saw the escape route. Perfect. He nodded at his father's response and gave him a grin. "Of course father, we will talk later." He replied quietly, before retreating from him. Ah yes, that had gone much better than expected. He paused a bit, stepping back to not be in the way. The discussion started, and he wasn't actually supposed to be involved. He just kind of felt a bit… so, Amiti had more of a place than him. He listened to the council, and while he agreed with the withdrawal of the war, he didn't say a word. Instead, he moved towards Amiti, leaning to whisper. "I am going to go outside for a moment." He wanted air, and most importantly, he wished to escape another opportunity to talk to his father about marriage. He turned away from his brother before walking over to where Gwyn was. People were too involved to really care where the servant went, and he'd rather have some company as he got air.
He leaned towards the servant, smiling over at her. "Would you like to go outside with me?" Thaddeus asked her quietly. He gestured towards the door that was the exit, and softly started walking towards it. He wanted to leave and, hopefully, his brother would let Gwyn go with him as well. Even if Thad hadn't exactly asked.
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Amiti seemed to be pushy enough for Thaddeus to obey, though he certainly didn't want to. He didn't want to think about the possibility of marrying anyone right now. Amiti seemed to think it was a fine idea but… it just didn't seem very pleasant. Not only because it would mean marriage but because he knew father wasn't going to approve who he wanted to marry… Thaddeus wasn't even sure how he was going to tell them he liked a servant girl. Well, more than I liked, but that meant it was even worse. Thaddeus huffed as he looked at his brother, and thought about simply walking out. In the end, Thad respected Amiti and couldn't disobey his brother's wishes. This also wasn't the time to make a scene. With one last look towards his older brother, Thaddeus made his way towards their father, Tzephaniah. The young man approached the high ranking lord, trying to do it respectfully as he could. They were already in a heated argument, and while Thaddeus was having second thoughts, he knew as long as he tried it would get his brother off of his back. If he failed, well… then that was Father's doing, not his.
He watched as more people came into the room, and Thaddeus couldn't help but sigh out in relief. It was a welcome distraction, and he already could assume he wouldn't be able to talk about potential marriage. There was a war brewing. It was just enough for Thaddeus to get out of saying what he was hoping desperately not to say, and as soon as his father said the words, he saw the escape route. Perfect. He nodded at his father's response and gave him a grin. "Of course father, we will talk later." He replied quietly, before retreating from him. Ah yes, that had gone much better than expected. He paused a bit, stepping back to not be in the way. The discussion started, and he wasn't actually supposed to be involved. He just kind of felt a bit… so, Amiti had more of a place than him. He listened to the council, and while he agreed with the withdrawal of the war, he didn't say a word. Instead, he moved towards Amiti, leaning to whisper. "I am going to go outside for a moment." He wanted air, and most importantly, he wished to escape another opportunity to talk to his father about marriage. He turned away from his brother before walking over to where Gwyn was. People were too involved to really care where the servant went, and he'd rather have some company as he got air.
He leaned towards the servant, smiling over at her. "Would you like to go outside with me?" Thaddeus asked her quietly. He gestured towards the door that was the exit, and softly started walking towards it. He wanted to leave and, hopefully, his brother would let Gwyn go with him as well. Even if Thad hadn't exactly asked.
Amiti seemed to be pushy enough for Thaddeus to obey, though he certainly didn't want to. He didn't want to think about the possibility of marrying anyone right now. Amiti seemed to think it was a fine idea but… it just didn't seem very pleasant. Not only because it would mean marriage but because he knew father wasn't going to approve who he wanted to marry… Thaddeus wasn't even sure how he was going to tell them he liked a servant girl. Well, more than I liked, but that meant it was even worse. Thaddeus huffed as he looked at his brother, and thought about simply walking out. In the end, Thad respected Amiti and couldn't disobey his brother's wishes. This also wasn't the time to make a scene. With one last look towards his older brother, Thaddeus made his way towards their father, Tzephaniah. The young man approached the high ranking lord, trying to do it respectfully as he could. They were already in a heated argument, and while Thaddeus was having second thoughts, he knew as long as he tried it would get his brother off of his back. If he failed, well… then that was Father's doing, not his.
He watched as more people came into the room, and Thaddeus couldn't help but sigh out in relief. It was a welcome distraction, and he already could assume he wouldn't be able to talk about potential marriage. There was a war brewing. It was just enough for Thaddeus to get out of saying what he was hoping desperately not to say, and as soon as his father said the words, he saw the escape route. Perfect. He nodded at his father's response and gave him a grin. "Of course father, we will talk later." He replied quietly, before retreating from him. Ah yes, that had gone much better than expected. He paused a bit, stepping back to not be in the way. The discussion started, and he wasn't actually supposed to be involved. He just kind of felt a bit… so, Amiti had more of a place than him. He listened to the council, and while he agreed with the withdrawal of the war, he didn't say a word. Instead, he moved towards Amiti, leaning to whisper. "I am going to go outside for a moment." He wanted air, and most importantly, he wished to escape another opportunity to talk to his father about marriage. He turned away from his brother before walking over to where Gwyn was. People were too involved to really care where the servant went, and he'd rather have some company as he got air.
He leaned towards the servant, smiling over at her. "Would you like to go outside with me?" Thaddeus asked her quietly. He gestured towards the door that was the exit, and softly started walking towards it. He wanted to leave and, hopefully, his brother would let Gwyn go with him as well. Even if Thad hadn't exactly asked.
Tzephaniah thought on the plan, going so far as to cross one arm over his chest, and pull at his beard with his other hand, stroking it in long, smooth motions. His brown eyes, rimmed by puffy skin that betrayed a lack of sleep, looked around at his brethren. Unlike his son, who he noticed was slouched down in his seat actively trying to avoid people, Tzephaniah didn’t have the same insecurities. It never entered his aged head that he spoke too slowly, thought too deeply, or was in any way an inconvenience. Just because he took his time did not mean that he was stupid. He saw the impatience that Simeon actively displayed. It simply didn’t bother him the way it might have bothered other people.
He thought on the reasons for withdraw - disease, wounds, trouble. His only real concern was if the Greeks would retaliate, but that was a problem more for Israel to handle, than Damascus. His city didn’t have to deal with these foreigners in quite the same way. Standing up again, he ignored his sons speaking quietly to one another and revolved slowly on the spot in order that his voice would be heard by the entire room.
“Damascus supports the withdraw,” he said in a long, drawn out breath, as though he was just waking up from sleep and being asked to contemplate the machinations of the universe. Again, ignoring the way Amiti sat straight up in his chair to look at him, Tzephaniah turned his full attention on Simeon. “I do wonder how you propose to make them leave,” he said. They had men enough in Judea, but a standing army? No. They didn’t have even the remotest hint of the kind of organization that Egypt and Greece could boast of. But, since he, Tzephaniah, hadn’t proposed the plan, he also didn’t feel any particular compulsion to offer a solution to it, either. Again, Damascus wouldn’t be very involved, being so far.
Amiti stared at his father and then at Simeon. Unlike his father, he wanted to offer something. “Perhaps for a short time?” he added, standing, resting just his fingertips on the chair in front of him. He was fighting the irked feeling of his brother walking out in the middle of a meeting, but there was little he could actually do about it. “Tell them we want no part of their war but once it’s over, borders reopen? Keep up good relations? I think we can all agree that we can ill afford to anger a stronger nation.”
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Tzephaniah thought on the plan, going so far as to cross one arm over his chest, and pull at his beard with his other hand, stroking it in long, smooth motions. His brown eyes, rimmed by puffy skin that betrayed a lack of sleep, looked around at his brethren. Unlike his son, who he noticed was slouched down in his seat actively trying to avoid people, Tzephaniah didn’t have the same insecurities. It never entered his aged head that he spoke too slowly, thought too deeply, or was in any way an inconvenience. Just because he took his time did not mean that he was stupid. He saw the impatience that Simeon actively displayed. It simply didn’t bother him the way it might have bothered other people.
He thought on the reasons for withdraw - disease, wounds, trouble. His only real concern was if the Greeks would retaliate, but that was a problem more for Israel to handle, than Damascus. His city didn’t have to deal with these foreigners in quite the same way. Standing up again, he ignored his sons speaking quietly to one another and revolved slowly on the spot in order that his voice would be heard by the entire room.
“Damascus supports the withdraw,” he said in a long, drawn out breath, as though he was just waking up from sleep and being asked to contemplate the machinations of the universe. Again, ignoring the way Amiti sat straight up in his chair to look at him, Tzephaniah turned his full attention on Simeon. “I do wonder how you propose to make them leave,” he said. They had men enough in Judea, but a standing army? No. They didn’t have even the remotest hint of the kind of organization that Egypt and Greece could boast of. But, since he, Tzephaniah, hadn’t proposed the plan, he also didn’t feel any particular compulsion to offer a solution to it, either. Again, Damascus wouldn’t be very involved, being so far.
Amiti stared at his father and then at Simeon. Unlike his father, he wanted to offer something. “Perhaps for a short time?” he added, standing, resting just his fingertips on the chair in front of him. He was fighting the irked feeling of his brother walking out in the middle of a meeting, but there was little he could actually do about it. “Tell them we want no part of their war but once it’s over, borders reopen? Keep up good relations? I think we can all agree that we can ill afford to anger a stronger nation.”
Tzephaniah thought on the plan, going so far as to cross one arm over his chest, and pull at his beard with his other hand, stroking it in long, smooth motions. His brown eyes, rimmed by puffy skin that betrayed a lack of sleep, looked around at his brethren. Unlike his son, who he noticed was slouched down in his seat actively trying to avoid people, Tzephaniah didn’t have the same insecurities. It never entered his aged head that he spoke too slowly, thought too deeply, or was in any way an inconvenience. Just because he took his time did not mean that he was stupid. He saw the impatience that Simeon actively displayed. It simply didn’t bother him the way it might have bothered other people.
He thought on the reasons for withdraw - disease, wounds, trouble. His only real concern was if the Greeks would retaliate, but that was a problem more for Israel to handle, than Damascus. His city didn’t have to deal with these foreigners in quite the same way. Standing up again, he ignored his sons speaking quietly to one another and revolved slowly on the spot in order that his voice would be heard by the entire room.
“Damascus supports the withdraw,” he said in a long, drawn out breath, as though he was just waking up from sleep and being asked to contemplate the machinations of the universe. Again, ignoring the way Amiti sat straight up in his chair to look at him, Tzephaniah turned his full attention on Simeon. “I do wonder how you propose to make them leave,” he said. They had men enough in Judea, but a standing army? No. They didn’t have even the remotest hint of the kind of organization that Egypt and Greece could boast of. But, since he, Tzephaniah, hadn’t proposed the plan, he also didn’t feel any particular compulsion to offer a solution to it, either. Again, Damascus wouldn’t be very involved, being so far.
Amiti stared at his father and then at Simeon. Unlike his father, he wanted to offer something. “Perhaps for a short time?” he added, standing, resting just his fingertips on the chair in front of him. He was fighting the irked feeling of his brother walking out in the middle of a meeting, but there was little he could actually do about it. “Tell them we want no part of their war but once it’s over, borders reopen? Keep up good relations? I think we can all agree that we can ill afford to anger a stronger nation.”
Simeon was unsurprised by Tzephaniah's support of his proposal. The man was a coward through to his bones and preferred to stay cloistered away with his tomes and scrolls than he did 'trifle' himself with the business of the world and his responsibilities as a religious leader of the people. Whilst Simeon had proposed the solution as a way of strengthening walls and borders - the boundaries that protected the Hebrews - he knew that Tzephaniah only supported it in an effort to remove such issues or concerns from the table that he would otherwise be littered with the dusty learnings of the past. Never did the man look to the future.
Tempted to let the man's acceptance be and move on to the next Elder's response, Simeon was distracted, however, by the comment made by the leader of Damascus. That Greece were a stronger nation than they. He felt the sparks of anger unfurl in his gut and his teeth clench.
"You believe us to be weak, Tzephaniah of Lazaros?" He demanded in a voice that did not rise in volume but turned deadly quiet instead. It was clear that his pride in his own kingdom had been severely nettled by such a remark. "We may not have a military force but we have the Almighty. I trust you do not presume that our Lord is weak in his support of his people?"
From the corner of his eye, Simeon noted Abir reach out to place a hand in the air, hovering above his arm. His son knew him well enough for any physical touch in the moment would only rankle his ire and turn it hotter.
'Father...' Abir's voice suggested in the awkward and pregnant stillness of the room. His tone was pacifying and calm. Yet he said nothing more, not wishing to show unfealty to his own patriarch...
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Simeon was unsurprised by Tzephaniah's support of his proposal. The man was a coward through to his bones and preferred to stay cloistered away with his tomes and scrolls than he did 'trifle' himself with the business of the world and his responsibilities as a religious leader of the people. Whilst Simeon had proposed the solution as a way of strengthening walls and borders - the boundaries that protected the Hebrews - he knew that Tzephaniah only supported it in an effort to remove such issues or concerns from the table that he would otherwise be littered with the dusty learnings of the past. Never did the man look to the future.
Tempted to let the man's acceptance be and move on to the next Elder's response, Simeon was distracted, however, by the comment made by the leader of Damascus. That Greece were a stronger nation than they. He felt the sparks of anger unfurl in his gut and his teeth clench.
"You believe us to be weak, Tzephaniah of Lazaros?" He demanded in a voice that did not rise in volume but turned deadly quiet instead. It was clear that his pride in his own kingdom had been severely nettled by such a remark. "We may not have a military force but we have the Almighty. I trust you do not presume that our Lord is weak in his support of his people?"
From the corner of his eye, Simeon noted Abir reach out to place a hand in the air, hovering above his arm. His son knew him well enough for any physical touch in the moment would only rankle his ire and turn it hotter.
'Father...' Abir's voice suggested in the awkward and pregnant stillness of the room. His tone was pacifying and calm. Yet he said nothing more, not wishing to show unfealty to his own patriarch...
Simeon was unsurprised by Tzephaniah's support of his proposal. The man was a coward through to his bones and preferred to stay cloistered away with his tomes and scrolls than he did 'trifle' himself with the business of the world and his responsibilities as a religious leader of the people. Whilst Simeon had proposed the solution as a way of strengthening walls and borders - the boundaries that protected the Hebrews - he knew that Tzephaniah only supported it in an effort to remove such issues or concerns from the table that he would otherwise be littered with the dusty learnings of the past. Never did the man look to the future.
Tempted to let the man's acceptance be and move on to the next Elder's response, Simeon was distracted, however, by the comment made by the leader of Damascus. That Greece were a stronger nation than they. He felt the sparks of anger unfurl in his gut and his teeth clench.
"You believe us to be weak, Tzephaniah of Lazaros?" He demanded in a voice that did not rise in volume but turned deadly quiet instead. It was clear that his pride in his own kingdom had been severely nettled by such a remark. "We may not have a military force but we have the Almighty. I trust you do not presume that our Lord is weak in his support of his people?"
From the corner of his eye, Simeon noted Abir reach out to place a hand in the air, hovering above his arm. His son knew him well enough for any physical touch in the moment would only rankle his ire and turn it hotter.
'Father...' Abir's voice suggested in the awkward and pregnant stillness of the room. His tone was pacifying and calm. Yet he said nothing more, not wishing to show unfealty to his own patriarch...
Simeon had turned away and did not see that it was Amiti who’d spoken. Both father and son did not expect the snarling demand that immediately came their way. And it was a snarl, despite Simeon’s lack of volume. The heat and barely subdued rage simmering just beneath the surface of the man’s flesh made the men from Damascus pause. Tzephaniah’s eyes widened in surprise and then his brows drew downward, the heavy folds of his eyelids obscuring the very tops of his eyes. His wide mouth opened in something between alarm and indignation. Amiti privately wondered what sort of man Simeon might be when not surrounded by so many. But that still left the jab thrown their way: Did they not trust The Almighty to protect them?
“I believe the Almighty would not wish us to be foolish,” Amiti, though not a brave man by any stretch, was not about to let Simeon drive his father into fits, which he could clearly see was about to happen. That alone made Amiti square his slim shoulders. He licked his lips and then pressed them together, trying to think quickly and summon words that wouldn’t exasperate Simeon further. That Abir didn’t seem to share his father’s aggressive nature also emboldened him to speak.
“The plan proposed is short term. The Almighty does not expect his chosen people to demonstrate a lack of care.” Amiti shot Tezphaniah a look and found his father was only just now closing his mouth. Good. Pulling at his beard for courage as much as anything else, Amiti gripped the back of the chair in front of him and continued. “It’s a valid question. What do we do about the Greeks after their war? Let them in or keep them out?”
He dearly hoped he wasn’t going to have to pay for this. It had been his own mouth, not his father’s, who’d given voice to the question in the first place, but he wasn’t about to make that known. It looked better to back up his father and let the older man take the fall for the question. Tzephaniah wouldn’t say anything to give away that Amiti spoke first. That wasn’t a lie, right? Just to make sure, Amiti planned to stop at the temple and see a priest. Couldn’t hurt to sacrifice a dove just in case.
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Simeon had turned away and did not see that it was Amiti who’d spoken. Both father and son did not expect the snarling demand that immediately came their way. And it was a snarl, despite Simeon’s lack of volume. The heat and barely subdued rage simmering just beneath the surface of the man’s flesh made the men from Damascus pause. Tzephaniah’s eyes widened in surprise and then his brows drew downward, the heavy folds of his eyelids obscuring the very tops of his eyes. His wide mouth opened in something between alarm and indignation. Amiti privately wondered what sort of man Simeon might be when not surrounded by so many. But that still left the jab thrown their way: Did they not trust The Almighty to protect them?
“I believe the Almighty would not wish us to be foolish,” Amiti, though not a brave man by any stretch, was not about to let Simeon drive his father into fits, which he could clearly see was about to happen. That alone made Amiti square his slim shoulders. He licked his lips and then pressed them together, trying to think quickly and summon words that wouldn’t exasperate Simeon further. That Abir didn’t seem to share his father’s aggressive nature also emboldened him to speak.
“The plan proposed is short term. The Almighty does not expect his chosen people to demonstrate a lack of care.” Amiti shot Tezphaniah a look and found his father was only just now closing his mouth. Good. Pulling at his beard for courage as much as anything else, Amiti gripped the back of the chair in front of him and continued. “It’s a valid question. What do we do about the Greeks after their war? Let them in or keep them out?”
He dearly hoped he wasn’t going to have to pay for this. It had been his own mouth, not his father’s, who’d given voice to the question in the first place, but he wasn’t about to make that known. It looked better to back up his father and let the older man take the fall for the question. Tzephaniah wouldn’t say anything to give away that Amiti spoke first. That wasn’t a lie, right? Just to make sure, Amiti planned to stop at the temple and see a priest. Couldn’t hurt to sacrifice a dove just in case.
Simeon had turned away and did not see that it was Amiti who’d spoken. Both father and son did not expect the snarling demand that immediately came their way. And it was a snarl, despite Simeon’s lack of volume. The heat and barely subdued rage simmering just beneath the surface of the man’s flesh made the men from Damascus pause. Tzephaniah’s eyes widened in surprise and then his brows drew downward, the heavy folds of his eyelids obscuring the very tops of his eyes. His wide mouth opened in something between alarm and indignation. Amiti privately wondered what sort of man Simeon might be when not surrounded by so many. But that still left the jab thrown their way: Did they not trust The Almighty to protect them?
“I believe the Almighty would not wish us to be foolish,” Amiti, though not a brave man by any stretch, was not about to let Simeon drive his father into fits, which he could clearly see was about to happen. That alone made Amiti square his slim shoulders. He licked his lips and then pressed them together, trying to think quickly and summon words that wouldn’t exasperate Simeon further. That Abir didn’t seem to share his father’s aggressive nature also emboldened him to speak.
“The plan proposed is short term. The Almighty does not expect his chosen people to demonstrate a lack of care.” Amiti shot Tezphaniah a look and found his father was only just now closing his mouth. Good. Pulling at his beard for courage as much as anything else, Amiti gripped the back of the chair in front of him and continued. “It’s a valid question. What do we do about the Greeks after their war? Let them in or keep them out?”
He dearly hoped he wasn’t going to have to pay for this. It had been his own mouth, not his father’s, who’d given voice to the question in the first place, but he wasn’t about to make that known. It looked better to back up his father and let the older man take the fall for the question. Tzephaniah wouldn’t say anything to give away that Amiti spoke first. That wasn’t a lie, right? Just to make sure, Amiti planned to stop at the temple and see a priest. Couldn’t hurt to sacrifice a dove just in case.