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It is Hoshana Rabbah; on the seventh day of the Pilgrimage Festival of Sukkot, the judgement of New Years is passed upon the Chosen People. From the first to the seventh, the Hebrews watch for a sign that their note of judgement will be positive. On the seventh day the people culminate to the synagogue of Jerusalem, making pilgrimage from wherever they are to join in seven concentric circles and pray and recite the Hoshanot with their lulav and etrog in hand.
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It is Hoshana Rabbah; on the seventh day of the Pilgrimage Festival of Sukkot, the judgement of New Years is passed upon the Chosen People. From the first to the seventh, the Hebrews watch for a sign that their note of judgement will be positive. On the seventh day the people culminate to the synagogue of Jerusalem, making pilgrimage from wherever they are to join in seven concentric circles and pray and recite the Hoshanot with their lulav and etrog in hand.
May Your Future Be Bright Event - Judea
It is Hoshana Rabbah; on the seventh day of the Pilgrimage Festival of Sukkot, the judgement of New Years is passed upon the Chosen People. From the first to the seventh, the Hebrews watch for a sign that their note of judgement will be positive. On the seventh day the people culminate to the synagogue of Jerusalem, making pilgrimage from wherever they are to join in seven concentric circles and pray and recite the Hoshanot with their lulav and etrog in hand.
Had Hannah been told that she would be attending the great Temple of Jerusalem during the Festival of Tabernacles, she would have held mixed feelings on the planned journey.
For one, it was a wondrous experience. Not in all her years of youth in Greece - not in its most heightened and beloved celebrations and festivals - had she ever felt the sense of community that she had the first and only time she had attended pilgrimage to the Holy Sanctuary Temple. The Hebrew people were a skilled community at keeping out those who they deemed did not belong. But they were just as masterful at creating an environment of brotherhood and connection that transcended faith and blood and body and moved into the very soul of those who progressed to worship the great and awful Yahweh.
If the celebrations themselves - the festivities that marked the end of the harvest and brought together all those who wished for good blessings for the year to come - was not in itself enough of a spectacle, the fact that it was held at the Temple of Jerusalem was marked still further. A building of might and fearsome glory, the temple was comprised of several wings for prayer, worship and study of scripture, housed two synagogues and at its very centre offered an impressive dome. Atop the glowing bronze of its spherical centre was a single mark of the church. On the central hill of Judea's religious capitol, it was the highest point for all to see. To witness, to herald and to kneel before in penitence of the Almighty.
To say that the Temple was impressive was a statement within itself when Jerusalem was the city in which it rested. Whilst not the political capital of the kingdom, it was the epicentre of the faith so integral to its people. When your God defined your life more than your legal rulers, those who occupied the central hub of religion were in fact the true power. And Jerusalem was an imposing physical reminder of such things.
As Hannah moved through the streets in the wake of her master, she was careful not to look left and right too often. For she could not risk a Hebrew glancing back at her for a second look and spotting the foreign colouring in her eyes.
Whilst her mitzpahath covered most of her face and she herself was a practicing Jew, it would not matter to some on the sacred days of Sukkot, in their most holy of places. To some, regardless of whether she had been holding the mitzvah's and traditions of their culture and religion for over seven years now, the fact that she was not formally Converted - that she held not the Jewish blood and soul - would anger many in the populace to violence or cruelty. And so, she kept her eyes cast downwards for the entire walk from the city gates to the Temple, where crowds of people were already forming the seven rings of prayer around the hill that occupied the Temple.
To walk the circumference of such a circle would take at least an hour. So many had come from so far that the rings upon rings could no longer see the opposing side of their brothers. Instead, it appeared from a singular perspective to be a long line, disappearing gently off to one side in either direction. One would only know them to be connected if they were to journey its length and return to those that they recognised without witnessing a break in shoulders.
Whilst the Hebrews did not hold hands during such a practice, there were enough in the crowds to ensure that all were touching, shoulder-to-shoulder, arm-to-arm...
A sharp bark of instruction came from Hannah's master and she hurried to catch him up, reminding herself not to stare.
To some extent, she did not need to stare. For she had witnessed such a celebration before. Only the once. After her marriage to Isaiah there had been a single Sukkot celebration before they were torn apart by a moment of violence. During it, her new husband had taken her to Jerusalem, shown her the beating heart of his faith and life. She had witnessed it as one of the Chosen People, married not Converted true, but connected nonetheless. It had been a time of hope and prosperity and love.
It was too sad to have hoped that Yahweh might have forewarned them of the future year to come.
For she could not wish for a good omen now...
During her years as a slave in Ammun, Hannah had transferred from master to master. Several of them had been foreign or Arabian in origin and others Hebrew yet not so devout, or devout enough to make pilgrimage but not to take a Greek slave in their company for the journey. This, with her most recent master, was the first opportunity she had had to come to the great Temple for Tabernacle since the last.
Hence, the mixed emotions that the arrival to such a place was sparking within her mind and heart.
Yet, her latest master was one of great faith and charity. At least on particular times of year.
Suspecting that Yosef was more fearful than he was devout, praising Yahweh in an attempt to please the potentially wrathful Lord at significant points in the year, Hannah could neither criticise nor complain against her superior. She could only reap the benefits of his sudden guilty conscience when he packed her up and brought her with him to the capitol of the faith.
Perhaps Yosef had been feeling particularly fearful of retribution that year for within their personal possessions and requirements for the journey, he had also purchased and grown supplies for the Four Species. Which was how Hannah had come to be useful in such a journey.
The man held no wife, nor children and could only afford herself as a second pair of hands. Hands that were now encumbered by large wicker baskets and satchels over each shoulder. Within the four containers rested stacks of necessary bundles for the Hoshanot and with several jerking hand motions and an angry comment in Hebrew, Hannah was instructed to offer them to the circles of men, handing over the left-over plants that some may have forgotten or been unable to purchase in time for the celebrations.
She did not charge for the items, for Yosef clearly hoped to make peace with whatever sin he had committed that year, and simply moved along the line, offering up the lulav, etrog and other requirements, attempting to keep her head bowed, her gaze low and her origin hidden from prying and discarding eyes...
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Check out their information page here.
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Had Hannah been told that she would be attending the great Temple of Jerusalem during the Festival of Tabernacles, she would have held mixed feelings on the planned journey.
For one, it was a wondrous experience. Not in all her years of youth in Greece - not in its most heightened and beloved celebrations and festivals - had she ever felt the sense of community that she had the first and only time she had attended pilgrimage to the Holy Sanctuary Temple. The Hebrew people were a skilled community at keeping out those who they deemed did not belong. But they were just as masterful at creating an environment of brotherhood and connection that transcended faith and blood and body and moved into the very soul of those who progressed to worship the great and awful Yahweh.
If the celebrations themselves - the festivities that marked the end of the harvest and brought together all those who wished for good blessings for the year to come - was not in itself enough of a spectacle, the fact that it was held at the Temple of Jerusalem was marked still further. A building of might and fearsome glory, the temple was comprised of several wings for prayer, worship and study of scripture, housed two synagogues and at its very centre offered an impressive dome. Atop the glowing bronze of its spherical centre was a single mark of the church. On the central hill of Judea's religious capitol, it was the highest point for all to see. To witness, to herald and to kneel before in penitence of the Almighty.
To say that the Temple was impressive was a statement within itself when Jerusalem was the city in which it rested. Whilst not the political capital of the kingdom, it was the epicentre of the faith so integral to its people. When your God defined your life more than your legal rulers, those who occupied the central hub of religion were in fact the true power. And Jerusalem was an imposing physical reminder of such things.
As Hannah moved through the streets in the wake of her master, she was careful not to look left and right too often. For she could not risk a Hebrew glancing back at her for a second look and spotting the foreign colouring in her eyes.
Whilst her mitzpahath covered most of her face and she herself was a practicing Jew, it would not matter to some on the sacred days of Sukkot, in their most holy of places. To some, regardless of whether she had been holding the mitzvah's and traditions of their culture and religion for over seven years now, the fact that she was not formally Converted - that she held not the Jewish blood and soul - would anger many in the populace to violence or cruelty. And so, she kept her eyes cast downwards for the entire walk from the city gates to the Temple, where crowds of people were already forming the seven rings of prayer around the hill that occupied the Temple.
To walk the circumference of such a circle would take at least an hour. So many had come from so far that the rings upon rings could no longer see the opposing side of their brothers. Instead, it appeared from a singular perspective to be a long line, disappearing gently off to one side in either direction. One would only know them to be connected if they were to journey its length and return to those that they recognised without witnessing a break in shoulders.
Whilst the Hebrews did not hold hands during such a practice, there were enough in the crowds to ensure that all were touching, shoulder-to-shoulder, arm-to-arm...
A sharp bark of instruction came from Hannah's master and she hurried to catch him up, reminding herself not to stare.
To some extent, she did not need to stare. For she had witnessed such a celebration before. Only the once. After her marriage to Isaiah there had been a single Sukkot celebration before they were torn apart by a moment of violence. During it, her new husband had taken her to Jerusalem, shown her the beating heart of his faith and life. She had witnessed it as one of the Chosen People, married not Converted true, but connected nonetheless. It had been a time of hope and prosperity and love.
It was too sad to have hoped that Yahweh might have forewarned them of the future year to come.
For she could not wish for a good omen now...
During her years as a slave in Ammun, Hannah had transferred from master to master. Several of them had been foreign or Arabian in origin and others Hebrew yet not so devout, or devout enough to make pilgrimage but not to take a Greek slave in their company for the journey. This, with her most recent master, was the first opportunity she had had to come to the great Temple for Tabernacle since the last.
Hence, the mixed emotions that the arrival to such a place was sparking within her mind and heart.
Yet, her latest master was one of great faith and charity. At least on particular times of year.
Suspecting that Yosef was more fearful than he was devout, praising Yahweh in an attempt to please the potentially wrathful Lord at significant points in the year, Hannah could neither criticise nor complain against her superior. She could only reap the benefits of his sudden guilty conscience when he packed her up and brought her with him to the capitol of the faith.
Perhaps Yosef had been feeling particularly fearful of retribution that year for within their personal possessions and requirements for the journey, he had also purchased and grown supplies for the Four Species. Which was how Hannah had come to be useful in such a journey.
The man held no wife, nor children and could only afford herself as a second pair of hands. Hands that were now encumbered by large wicker baskets and satchels over each shoulder. Within the four containers rested stacks of necessary bundles for the Hoshanot and with several jerking hand motions and an angry comment in Hebrew, Hannah was instructed to offer them to the circles of men, handing over the left-over plants that some may have forgotten or been unable to purchase in time for the celebrations.
She did not charge for the items, for Yosef clearly hoped to make peace with whatever sin he had committed that year, and simply moved along the line, offering up the lulav, etrog and other requirements, attempting to keep her head bowed, her gaze low and her origin hidden from prying and discarding eyes...
Had Hannah been told that she would be attending the great Temple of Jerusalem during the Festival of Tabernacles, she would have held mixed feelings on the planned journey.
For one, it was a wondrous experience. Not in all her years of youth in Greece - not in its most heightened and beloved celebrations and festivals - had she ever felt the sense of community that she had the first and only time she had attended pilgrimage to the Holy Sanctuary Temple. The Hebrew people were a skilled community at keeping out those who they deemed did not belong. But they were just as masterful at creating an environment of brotherhood and connection that transcended faith and blood and body and moved into the very soul of those who progressed to worship the great and awful Yahweh.
If the celebrations themselves - the festivities that marked the end of the harvest and brought together all those who wished for good blessings for the year to come - was not in itself enough of a spectacle, the fact that it was held at the Temple of Jerusalem was marked still further. A building of might and fearsome glory, the temple was comprised of several wings for prayer, worship and study of scripture, housed two synagogues and at its very centre offered an impressive dome. Atop the glowing bronze of its spherical centre was a single mark of the church. On the central hill of Judea's religious capitol, it was the highest point for all to see. To witness, to herald and to kneel before in penitence of the Almighty.
To say that the Temple was impressive was a statement within itself when Jerusalem was the city in which it rested. Whilst not the political capital of the kingdom, it was the epicentre of the faith so integral to its people. When your God defined your life more than your legal rulers, those who occupied the central hub of religion were in fact the true power. And Jerusalem was an imposing physical reminder of such things.
As Hannah moved through the streets in the wake of her master, she was careful not to look left and right too often. For she could not risk a Hebrew glancing back at her for a second look and spotting the foreign colouring in her eyes.
Whilst her mitzpahath covered most of her face and she herself was a practicing Jew, it would not matter to some on the sacred days of Sukkot, in their most holy of places. To some, regardless of whether she had been holding the mitzvah's and traditions of their culture and religion for over seven years now, the fact that she was not formally Converted - that she held not the Jewish blood and soul - would anger many in the populace to violence or cruelty. And so, she kept her eyes cast downwards for the entire walk from the city gates to the Temple, where crowds of people were already forming the seven rings of prayer around the hill that occupied the Temple.
To walk the circumference of such a circle would take at least an hour. So many had come from so far that the rings upon rings could no longer see the opposing side of their brothers. Instead, it appeared from a singular perspective to be a long line, disappearing gently off to one side in either direction. One would only know them to be connected if they were to journey its length and return to those that they recognised without witnessing a break in shoulders.
Whilst the Hebrews did not hold hands during such a practice, there were enough in the crowds to ensure that all were touching, shoulder-to-shoulder, arm-to-arm...
A sharp bark of instruction came from Hannah's master and she hurried to catch him up, reminding herself not to stare.
To some extent, she did not need to stare. For she had witnessed such a celebration before. Only the once. After her marriage to Isaiah there had been a single Sukkot celebration before they were torn apart by a moment of violence. During it, her new husband had taken her to Jerusalem, shown her the beating heart of his faith and life. She had witnessed it as one of the Chosen People, married not Converted true, but connected nonetheless. It had been a time of hope and prosperity and love.
It was too sad to have hoped that Yahweh might have forewarned them of the future year to come.
For she could not wish for a good omen now...
During her years as a slave in Ammun, Hannah had transferred from master to master. Several of them had been foreign or Arabian in origin and others Hebrew yet not so devout, or devout enough to make pilgrimage but not to take a Greek slave in their company for the journey. This, with her most recent master, was the first opportunity she had had to come to the great Temple for Tabernacle since the last.
Hence, the mixed emotions that the arrival to such a place was sparking within her mind and heart.
Yet, her latest master was one of great faith and charity. At least on particular times of year.
Suspecting that Yosef was more fearful than he was devout, praising Yahweh in an attempt to please the potentially wrathful Lord at significant points in the year, Hannah could neither criticise nor complain against her superior. She could only reap the benefits of his sudden guilty conscience when he packed her up and brought her with him to the capitol of the faith.
Perhaps Yosef had been feeling particularly fearful of retribution that year for within their personal possessions and requirements for the journey, he had also purchased and grown supplies for the Four Species. Which was how Hannah had come to be useful in such a journey.
The man held no wife, nor children and could only afford herself as a second pair of hands. Hands that were now encumbered by large wicker baskets and satchels over each shoulder. Within the four containers rested stacks of necessary bundles for the Hoshanot and with several jerking hand motions and an angry comment in Hebrew, Hannah was instructed to offer them to the circles of men, handing over the left-over plants that some may have forgotten or been unable to purchase in time for the celebrations.
She did not charge for the items, for Yosef clearly hoped to make peace with whatever sin he had committed that year, and simply moved along the line, offering up the lulav, etrog and other requirements, attempting to keep her head bowed, her gaze low and her origin hidden from prying and discarding eyes...
The Festival of Tabernacles was not a choice: it was a commandment. Not from on high, per say, but if you didn’t go, there had better be a reason; illness, pregnancy, death. Any of those would do. Otherwise? The camels were loaded up, donkeys prepared, walking staffs checked, and families made the trek. Despite the necessity of going, it was not a sombre occasion. This was a celebration, and one which Amiti was more than ready for. It celebrated their people’s wanderings through the desert for forty years before coming to the Promised Land - this land. It commemorated their independence from Egypt and because of the time of year, with harvests, it was a time of feasts and thanking Yahweh for His bountiful gifts.
They were to live in tents for seven days to symbolize their trek through the desert. Amiti emerged from his tent that he was sharing with his father and brothers, stretching, and no longer quite in the same festive mood he had been at the beginning of the festival. Gwyn was off somewhere, having the great fortune of being provided her own tent, since she was a servant and a woman on top of it. Amit rubbed his nose where Shiloh’s foot had slammed into it as he slept. That had been an unpleasant way to awaken.
Not really wanting to spend the entire morning cooped up with men who were growing less and less cordial the longer they had to share a small tent, he opted to go into the city. Thank Yahweh that they could disband with this tent after tonight. He was more than ready to go back to his cousin’s house, which was where they usually stayed while here.
The streets leading towards the magnificent temple were cramped and Amiti had to shoulder his way through, occasionally waving Thaddeus and Shiloh ahead of him. Their father they’d long lost somewhere in the crowd. In a few years, Amiti probably would not feel comfortable leaving Tzephaniah on his own, but the man hadn’t shown any signs of confusion; just being terribly, terribly slow - a thing Amiti had very little patience for. At last, he and his brothers were standing together and hadn’t been doing so very long when he heard a feminine voice from somewhere near his elbow. Glancing down, Amiti half turned to find Hannah offering him a few items.
“What?” his words were gruff at first because he’d taken her for a beggar, but closer inspection revealed she was a little better than that - a servant - but that wasn’t much better. “Here, give some to my brothers as well,” he said and half turned, waving briefly to get the attention of the other two. “Shiloh, Thaddeus. Here, take these.” Turning back to Hannah, he said, “How much?”
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The Festival of Tabernacles was not a choice: it was a commandment. Not from on high, per say, but if you didn’t go, there had better be a reason; illness, pregnancy, death. Any of those would do. Otherwise? The camels were loaded up, donkeys prepared, walking staffs checked, and families made the trek. Despite the necessity of going, it was not a sombre occasion. This was a celebration, and one which Amiti was more than ready for. It celebrated their people’s wanderings through the desert for forty years before coming to the Promised Land - this land. It commemorated their independence from Egypt and because of the time of year, with harvests, it was a time of feasts and thanking Yahweh for His bountiful gifts.
They were to live in tents for seven days to symbolize their trek through the desert. Amiti emerged from his tent that he was sharing with his father and brothers, stretching, and no longer quite in the same festive mood he had been at the beginning of the festival. Gwyn was off somewhere, having the great fortune of being provided her own tent, since she was a servant and a woman on top of it. Amit rubbed his nose where Shiloh’s foot had slammed into it as he slept. That had been an unpleasant way to awaken.
Not really wanting to spend the entire morning cooped up with men who were growing less and less cordial the longer they had to share a small tent, he opted to go into the city. Thank Yahweh that they could disband with this tent after tonight. He was more than ready to go back to his cousin’s house, which was where they usually stayed while here.
The streets leading towards the magnificent temple were cramped and Amiti had to shoulder his way through, occasionally waving Thaddeus and Shiloh ahead of him. Their father they’d long lost somewhere in the crowd. In a few years, Amiti probably would not feel comfortable leaving Tzephaniah on his own, but the man hadn’t shown any signs of confusion; just being terribly, terribly slow - a thing Amiti had very little patience for. At last, he and his brothers were standing together and hadn’t been doing so very long when he heard a feminine voice from somewhere near his elbow. Glancing down, Amiti half turned to find Hannah offering him a few items.
“What?” his words were gruff at first because he’d taken her for a beggar, but closer inspection revealed she was a little better than that - a servant - but that wasn’t much better. “Here, give some to my brothers as well,” he said and half turned, waving briefly to get the attention of the other two. “Shiloh, Thaddeus. Here, take these.” Turning back to Hannah, he said, “How much?”
The Festival of Tabernacles was not a choice: it was a commandment. Not from on high, per say, but if you didn’t go, there had better be a reason; illness, pregnancy, death. Any of those would do. Otherwise? The camels were loaded up, donkeys prepared, walking staffs checked, and families made the trek. Despite the necessity of going, it was not a sombre occasion. This was a celebration, and one which Amiti was more than ready for. It celebrated their people’s wanderings through the desert for forty years before coming to the Promised Land - this land. It commemorated their independence from Egypt and because of the time of year, with harvests, it was a time of feasts and thanking Yahweh for His bountiful gifts.
They were to live in tents for seven days to symbolize their trek through the desert. Amiti emerged from his tent that he was sharing with his father and brothers, stretching, and no longer quite in the same festive mood he had been at the beginning of the festival. Gwyn was off somewhere, having the great fortune of being provided her own tent, since she was a servant and a woman on top of it. Amit rubbed his nose where Shiloh’s foot had slammed into it as he slept. That had been an unpleasant way to awaken.
Not really wanting to spend the entire morning cooped up with men who were growing less and less cordial the longer they had to share a small tent, he opted to go into the city. Thank Yahweh that they could disband with this tent after tonight. He was more than ready to go back to his cousin’s house, which was where they usually stayed while here.
The streets leading towards the magnificent temple were cramped and Amiti had to shoulder his way through, occasionally waving Thaddeus and Shiloh ahead of him. Their father they’d long lost somewhere in the crowd. In a few years, Amiti probably would not feel comfortable leaving Tzephaniah on his own, but the man hadn’t shown any signs of confusion; just being terribly, terribly slow - a thing Amiti had very little patience for. At last, he and his brothers were standing together and hadn’t been doing so very long when he heard a feminine voice from somewhere near his elbow. Glancing down, Amiti half turned to find Hannah offering him a few items.
“What?” his words were gruff at first because he’d taken her for a beggar, but closer inspection revealed she was a little better than that - a servant - but that wasn’t much better. “Here, give some to my brothers as well,” he said and half turned, waving briefly to get the attention of the other two. “Shiloh, Thaddeus. Here, take these.” Turning back to Hannah, he said, “How much?”
She had always enjoyed the Festival of Tabernacles, back when her sister was around and her family was complete. As a child, it was the best time for she got to spend a whole week with her parents, without the nagging feeling that they had to return to work at any given moment. It was a time where Gwyneth could freely play and have long conversations with Ayala, and Qiana would hold her on her lap, braiding her hair whilst her father cooked their meal over a campfire, and shared stories of their people and how, through Yahweh's glory and power, that their people now had the Promised Land to call their home, and that they no longer live oppressed under the rule of Egypt.
But truly, most of that flew over her head. For Gwyneth, it was simply a time she got her family altogether, and now as she awoke in her own tent shared by two other maids of the Jaffe Manheeg, it was bittersweet for her to recall those memories as she did her morning ablutions to ensure she had plenty of time to prepare before the family awakened. She had been given the choice to attend the festival with her own family, but Valence had not been in good shape to go, and as such was under the care of the infirmed neighbor she paid, whilst Gwyneth worked to earn the extra coin even on a day of festivities.
Unlike waking up feeling warm as she curled to her mother's side, her sister on the other end, waking up now as a servant of the household meant it was a quick a fuss-free process. It was a tight squeeze, for three women in a tent, but they made do with what they could, before hurrying to prepare the morning day meals they would deliver to the men in their own tent, before finally having time for their own repast.
The sun was high in the sky before they finally could find the time to make their trek to the temple where respects should be paid, and the family of men had long left before them. Gwyneth had to ensure the washup had been done before she changed into her respectable outfit, a golden sheer over her dark hair atop her head to complete the look. Her skirts were long, layered one over the other in a manner necessary for the festivities, and a few coins jingled in the small pouch that Gwyneth wore tied to her waist, to buy the lulov and etrog necessary to complete the Hoshanot as she made her way scaling the staircase to the temple. Packed with people as it was, the small sized girl found herself easily jostled as she tried to fight her way up.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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She had always enjoyed the Festival of Tabernacles, back when her sister was around and her family was complete. As a child, it was the best time for she got to spend a whole week with her parents, without the nagging feeling that they had to return to work at any given moment. It was a time where Gwyneth could freely play and have long conversations with Ayala, and Qiana would hold her on her lap, braiding her hair whilst her father cooked their meal over a campfire, and shared stories of their people and how, through Yahweh's glory and power, that their people now had the Promised Land to call their home, and that they no longer live oppressed under the rule of Egypt.
But truly, most of that flew over her head. For Gwyneth, it was simply a time she got her family altogether, and now as she awoke in her own tent shared by two other maids of the Jaffe Manheeg, it was bittersweet for her to recall those memories as she did her morning ablutions to ensure she had plenty of time to prepare before the family awakened. She had been given the choice to attend the festival with her own family, but Valence had not been in good shape to go, and as such was under the care of the infirmed neighbor she paid, whilst Gwyneth worked to earn the extra coin even on a day of festivities.
Unlike waking up feeling warm as she curled to her mother's side, her sister on the other end, waking up now as a servant of the household meant it was a quick a fuss-free process. It was a tight squeeze, for three women in a tent, but they made do with what they could, before hurrying to prepare the morning day meals they would deliver to the men in their own tent, before finally having time for their own repast.
The sun was high in the sky before they finally could find the time to make their trek to the temple where respects should be paid, and the family of men had long left before them. Gwyneth had to ensure the washup had been done before she changed into her respectable outfit, a golden sheer over her dark hair atop her head to complete the look. Her skirts were long, layered one over the other in a manner necessary for the festivities, and a few coins jingled in the small pouch that Gwyneth wore tied to her waist, to buy the lulov and etrog necessary to complete the Hoshanot as she made her way scaling the staircase to the temple. Packed with people as it was, the small sized girl found herself easily jostled as she tried to fight her way up.
She had always enjoyed the Festival of Tabernacles, back when her sister was around and her family was complete. As a child, it was the best time for she got to spend a whole week with her parents, without the nagging feeling that they had to return to work at any given moment. It was a time where Gwyneth could freely play and have long conversations with Ayala, and Qiana would hold her on her lap, braiding her hair whilst her father cooked their meal over a campfire, and shared stories of their people and how, through Yahweh's glory and power, that their people now had the Promised Land to call their home, and that they no longer live oppressed under the rule of Egypt.
But truly, most of that flew over her head. For Gwyneth, it was simply a time she got her family altogether, and now as she awoke in her own tent shared by two other maids of the Jaffe Manheeg, it was bittersweet for her to recall those memories as she did her morning ablutions to ensure she had plenty of time to prepare before the family awakened. She had been given the choice to attend the festival with her own family, but Valence had not been in good shape to go, and as such was under the care of the infirmed neighbor she paid, whilst Gwyneth worked to earn the extra coin even on a day of festivities.
Unlike waking up feeling warm as she curled to her mother's side, her sister on the other end, waking up now as a servant of the household meant it was a quick a fuss-free process. It was a tight squeeze, for three women in a tent, but they made do with what they could, before hurrying to prepare the morning day meals they would deliver to the men in their own tent, before finally having time for their own repast.
The sun was high in the sky before they finally could find the time to make their trek to the temple where respects should be paid, and the family of men had long left before them. Gwyneth had to ensure the washup had been done before she changed into her respectable outfit, a golden sheer over her dark hair atop her head to complete the look. Her skirts were long, layered one over the other in a manner necessary for the festivities, and a few coins jingled in the small pouch that Gwyneth wore tied to her waist, to buy the lulov and etrog necessary to complete the Hoshanot as she made her way scaling the staircase to the temple. Packed with people as it was, the small sized girl found herself easily jostled as she tried to fight her way up.
Handing out the lulav and the etrogs to those who reached for them, Hannah was pleased at the smiles and thanks that she was given at their receipt. A woman of simply pleasures now - for that was all she could master in her world but all that was so integrally important to it - she found herself smiling behind her mitzpahath, the edges of her eyes narrowing, revealing the expression that was hidden behind cloth. Not that she ever looked at anyone long enough for them to notice such clues.
Instead, she kept her gaze down, her head penitent and the set of her shoulders unthreatening as she moved along the lines and through the crowds of the faithful.
When a voice bit out an angry - 'What?' - something in Hannah sparked recognition and she looked up to witness a face she had seen only a few weeks prior in the lands of Israel. Glancing immediately back down and bowing with exaggerated respect so as not to incur his annoyance further, Hannah repeated her words of offering.
"Lulav, for prayer?"
The words were simple and pitched just loud enough so that they could not be considered a shout but also were able to be heard over the noise of the crowd. When the Councilman realised what she was offering, his features and tone shifted and she was instructed to offer the items to the two men beside him who bore a superficial resemblance to the speaker. Hannah was quick to offer up one of her baskets to them each in turn.
"No charge, Councilman." She told the man, glancing up from around the edge of her headscarf. "Free in honour of the festivities."
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Handing out the lulav and the etrogs to those who reached for them, Hannah was pleased at the smiles and thanks that she was given at their receipt. A woman of simply pleasures now - for that was all she could master in her world but all that was so integrally important to it - she found herself smiling behind her mitzpahath, the edges of her eyes narrowing, revealing the expression that was hidden behind cloth. Not that she ever looked at anyone long enough for them to notice such clues.
Instead, she kept her gaze down, her head penitent and the set of her shoulders unthreatening as she moved along the lines and through the crowds of the faithful.
When a voice bit out an angry - 'What?' - something in Hannah sparked recognition and she looked up to witness a face she had seen only a few weeks prior in the lands of Israel. Glancing immediately back down and bowing with exaggerated respect so as not to incur his annoyance further, Hannah repeated her words of offering.
"Lulav, for prayer?"
The words were simple and pitched just loud enough so that they could not be considered a shout but also were able to be heard over the noise of the crowd. When the Councilman realised what she was offering, his features and tone shifted and she was instructed to offer the items to the two men beside him who bore a superficial resemblance to the speaker. Hannah was quick to offer up one of her baskets to them each in turn.
"No charge, Councilman." She told the man, glancing up from around the edge of her headscarf. "Free in honour of the festivities."
Handing out the lulav and the etrogs to those who reached for them, Hannah was pleased at the smiles and thanks that she was given at their receipt. A woman of simply pleasures now - for that was all she could master in her world but all that was so integrally important to it - she found herself smiling behind her mitzpahath, the edges of her eyes narrowing, revealing the expression that was hidden behind cloth. Not that she ever looked at anyone long enough for them to notice such clues.
Instead, she kept her gaze down, her head penitent and the set of her shoulders unthreatening as she moved along the lines and through the crowds of the faithful.
When a voice bit out an angry - 'What?' - something in Hannah sparked recognition and she looked up to witness a face she had seen only a few weeks prior in the lands of Israel. Glancing immediately back down and bowing with exaggerated respect so as not to incur his annoyance further, Hannah repeated her words of offering.
"Lulav, for prayer?"
The words were simple and pitched just loud enough so that they could not be considered a shout but also were able to be heard over the noise of the crowd. When the Councilman realised what she was offering, his features and tone shifted and she was instructed to offer the items to the two men beside him who bore a superficial resemblance to the speaker. Hannah was quick to offer up one of her baskets to them each in turn.
"No charge, Councilman." She told the man, glancing up from around the edge of her headscarf. "Free in honour of the festivities."
With such a large family, the tents had never been a comfortable experience for Hazael. He couldn’t remember a time where he had enjoyed the makeshift living quarters, not even when he was little. Back then, Uncle Oren’s family had piled with them into the same two tents. Now the families were too large to allow that to happen. Especially when the men’s tent that Hazael slept in had to fit six people: his grandfather Mahlon, his father Avriam, and then all four of the boys. They were lucky in the fact that all of Levana’s brood was thin and lanky, allowing for this configuration to even be possible, but it was still such a tight squeeze that everyone woke up with aches and pains. It wasn’t like the girls faired any better as they also had to fit six people into such a tiny space.
Hazael, in particular, was rather stiff when everyone stumbled out of their dwelling and congregated around the women’s tent for food. The boy had spent the night between Tiras and Benaiah. Or more accurately, Hazael had spent the night curled around the nine-year-old in order to protect him the rough bumps and jostles that Tiras dished out during the course of the night. He was restless in his sleep, constantly shifting and turning about with flailing limbs -- which didn’t fare well for the others as he was much bigger than those around him. Hazael was afraid that Tiras might accidentally hurt the youngest brother f there wasn’t some sort of shield between him and the oldest.
It wasn’t a misplaced concern either as Hazael was certain that he was black and blue from how many times he had been knee-ed and accidentally slapped by the broader man. He hurt so badly that the dog breeder didn’t want to move. It also didn’t hurt that every time Tiras accidentally struck him, it would wake Hazael up. It had been exactly seven days since Haz had gotten a good night’s sleep. So, he was clearly tired and very grumpy, not to mention, completely stressed beyond belief.
He hadn’t been allowed to bring Bracha with him as her presence had been strictly forbidden by his father. Hazael was so used to the sand-colored Saluki by his side that her not being here just made every little bad thing infinitely worse as he was worried about being so far from her. Then, as if things could not be any more miserable, one of his other dogs was nearing her due date. Hazael had secretly wanted to stay behind for this reason alone as he wanted he didn’t want her to be alone if she went into early labor, but that was expressly forbidden as well. His only option was to trust that Uncle Oren’s heavily pregnant wife would be able to help the momma dog if the worst-case scenario did happen when she stopped by to feed the creatures that were frowned upon by the faith he was celebrating.
Clearly, Hazael had every reason in the world to complain. He was miserable and there was a lot on his mind during this festival. However, there hadn’t been so much as a peep out of him as the final day approached. Not only did he just not have the energy for such a thing, but he knew that any negativity would not be tolerated by his family. Not from his strict father or more annoyingly from his younger brother Jorah. It was no secret that the sixteen-year-old was highly dedicated to the faith and was on the path to becoming a rabbi. Festivals like this seemed to be the highlight of his year and quite frankly, Hazael didn’t want to deal with his judgmental brother that morning. The younger boy didn’t like Hazael because of the dogs that he raised and had lectured Haz on them more than once. However, he didn’t care. Haz loved his dogs and he could very easily shape his own faith to allow for the animals. Jorah seemed unwilling to do the same. In fact, it seemed like Jorah was so attached to the literal interpretation of everything that he had become aloof to his own family as they partook in their own sins. Hazael just didn’t want to deal with it. Not when he was already tired, stressed, and just ready to go home.
However, the family couldn’t leave until the festival completed, so after the morning meal was eaten, the Avriam brood made their way towards the temple for the final day. He tried to think positively so that Yahweh wouldn’t be displeased with him, but that was a very difficult thing to do as he found a place next to his pious brother in the march to the temple.
“ I bet you’re excited.” Hazael muttered as the group started climbing the steps, trying to play nice and make some sort of light conversation. Who knew? Maybe Jorah’s happiness might rub off on Haz? Or maybe his brother was just as annoyed with his brother’s presence as Hazael was his… especially as Jorah knew something that the older boy had thought that he had kept a secret as several days ago, when the family was packing to leave, Jorah had seen Hazael empty a rather full coin purse into a small bag filled with money to be given to the temple. Hazael had thought no one had seen and his own rotten eyesight had kept him into the dark to the fact that this wasn’t true.
Now surely Jorah had questions that Hazael didn’t want to answer. Such as how did Hazael come across that much money? And why was he hiding it from the rest of the family? Most importantly, if asked directly, would Hazael divulge just how lucrative his business had become to a brother that might turn around tell their father; landing Haz in a lot of trouble?
Well, there was only one way for Jorah to find out…
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With such a large family, the tents had never been a comfortable experience for Hazael. He couldn’t remember a time where he had enjoyed the makeshift living quarters, not even when he was little. Back then, Uncle Oren’s family had piled with them into the same two tents. Now the families were too large to allow that to happen. Especially when the men’s tent that Hazael slept in had to fit six people: his grandfather Mahlon, his father Avriam, and then all four of the boys. They were lucky in the fact that all of Levana’s brood was thin and lanky, allowing for this configuration to even be possible, but it was still such a tight squeeze that everyone woke up with aches and pains. It wasn’t like the girls faired any better as they also had to fit six people into such a tiny space.
Hazael, in particular, was rather stiff when everyone stumbled out of their dwelling and congregated around the women’s tent for food. The boy had spent the night between Tiras and Benaiah. Or more accurately, Hazael had spent the night curled around the nine-year-old in order to protect him the rough bumps and jostles that Tiras dished out during the course of the night. He was restless in his sleep, constantly shifting and turning about with flailing limbs -- which didn’t fare well for the others as he was much bigger than those around him. Hazael was afraid that Tiras might accidentally hurt the youngest brother f there wasn’t some sort of shield between him and the oldest.
It wasn’t a misplaced concern either as Hazael was certain that he was black and blue from how many times he had been knee-ed and accidentally slapped by the broader man. He hurt so badly that the dog breeder didn’t want to move. It also didn’t hurt that every time Tiras accidentally struck him, it would wake Hazael up. It had been exactly seven days since Haz had gotten a good night’s sleep. So, he was clearly tired and very grumpy, not to mention, completely stressed beyond belief.
He hadn’t been allowed to bring Bracha with him as her presence had been strictly forbidden by his father. Hazael was so used to the sand-colored Saluki by his side that her not being here just made every little bad thing infinitely worse as he was worried about being so far from her. Then, as if things could not be any more miserable, one of his other dogs was nearing her due date. Hazael had secretly wanted to stay behind for this reason alone as he wanted he didn’t want her to be alone if she went into early labor, but that was expressly forbidden as well. His only option was to trust that Uncle Oren’s heavily pregnant wife would be able to help the momma dog if the worst-case scenario did happen when she stopped by to feed the creatures that were frowned upon by the faith he was celebrating.
Clearly, Hazael had every reason in the world to complain. He was miserable and there was a lot on his mind during this festival. However, there hadn’t been so much as a peep out of him as the final day approached. Not only did he just not have the energy for such a thing, but he knew that any negativity would not be tolerated by his family. Not from his strict father or more annoyingly from his younger brother Jorah. It was no secret that the sixteen-year-old was highly dedicated to the faith and was on the path to becoming a rabbi. Festivals like this seemed to be the highlight of his year and quite frankly, Hazael didn’t want to deal with his judgmental brother that morning. The younger boy didn’t like Hazael because of the dogs that he raised and had lectured Haz on them more than once. However, he didn’t care. Haz loved his dogs and he could very easily shape his own faith to allow for the animals. Jorah seemed unwilling to do the same. In fact, it seemed like Jorah was so attached to the literal interpretation of everything that he had become aloof to his own family as they partook in their own sins. Hazael just didn’t want to deal with it. Not when he was already tired, stressed, and just ready to go home.
However, the family couldn’t leave until the festival completed, so after the morning meal was eaten, the Avriam brood made their way towards the temple for the final day. He tried to think positively so that Yahweh wouldn’t be displeased with him, but that was a very difficult thing to do as he found a place next to his pious brother in the march to the temple.
“ I bet you’re excited.” Hazael muttered as the group started climbing the steps, trying to play nice and make some sort of light conversation. Who knew? Maybe Jorah’s happiness might rub off on Haz? Or maybe his brother was just as annoyed with his brother’s presence as Hazael was his… especially as Jorah knew something that the older boy had thought that he had kept a secret as several days ago, when the family was packing to leave, Jorah had seen Hazael empty a rather full coin purse into a small bag filled with money to be given to the temple. Hazael had thought no one had seen and his own rotten eyesight had kept him into the dark to the fact that this wasn’t true.
Now surely Jorah had questions that Hazael didn’t want to answer. Such as how did Hazael come across that much money? And why was he hiding it from the rest of the family? Most importantly, if asked directly, would Hazael divulge just how lucrative his business had become to a brother that might turn around tell their father; landing Haz in a lot of trouble?
Well, there was only one way for Jorah to find out…
With such a large family, the tents had never been a comfortable experience for Hazael. He couldn’t remember a time where he had enjoyed the makeshift living quarters, not even when he was little. Back then, Uncle Oren’s family had piled with them into the same two tents. Now the families were too large to allow that to happen. Especially when the men’s tent that Hazael slept in had to fit six people: his grandfather Mahlon, his father Avriam, and then all four of the boys. They were lucky in the fact that all of Levana’s brood was thin and lanky, allowing for this configuration to even be possible, but it was still such a tight squeeze that everyone woke up with aches and pains. It wasn’t like the girls faired any better as they also had to fit six people into such a tiny space.
Hazael, in particular, was rather stiff when everyone stumbled out of their dwelling and congregated around the women’s tent for food. The boy had spent the night between Tiras and Benaiah. Or more accurately, Hazael had spent the night curled around the nine-year-old in order to protect him the rough bumps and jostles that Tiras dished out during the course of the night. He was restless in his sleep, constantly shifting and turning about with flailing limbs -- which didn’t fare well for the others as he was much bigger than those around him. Hazael was afraid that Tiras might accidentally hurt the youngest brother f there wasn’t some sort of shield between him and the oldest.
It wasn’t a misplaced concern either as Hazael was certain that he was black and blue from how many times he had been knee-ed and accidentally slapped by the broader man. He hurt so badly that the dog breeder didn’t want to move. It also didn’t hurt that every time Tiras accidentally struck him, it would wake Hazael up. It had been exactly seven days since Haz had gotten a good night’s sleep. So, he was clearly tired and very grumpy, not to mention, completely stressed beyond belief.
He hadn’t been allowed to bring Bracha with him as her presence had been strictly forbidden by his father. Hazael was so used to the sand-colored Saluki by his side that her not being here just made every little bad thing infinitely worse as he was worried about being so far from her. Then, as if things could not be any more miserable, one of his other dogs was nearing her due date. Hazael had secretly wanted to stay behind for this reason alone as he wanted he didn’t want her to be alone if she went into early labor, but that was expressly forbidden as well. His only option was to trust that Uncle Oren’s heavily pregnant wife would be able to help the momma dog if the worst-case scenario did happen when she stopped by to feed the creatures that were frowned upon by the faith he was celebrating.
Clearly, Hazael had every reason in the world to complain. He was miserable and there was a lot on his mind during this festival. However, there hadn’t been so much as a peep out of him as the final day approached. Not only did he just not have the energy for such a thing, but he knew that any negativity would not be tolerated by his family. Not from his strict father or more annoyingly from his younger brother Jorah. It was no secret that the sixteen-year-old was highly dedicated to the faith and was on the path to becoming a rabbi. Festivals like this seemed to be the highlight of his year and quite frankly, Hazael didn’t want to deal with his judgmental brother that morning. The younger boy didn’t like Hazael because of the dogs that he raised and had lectured Haz on them more than once. However, he didn’t care. Haz loved his dogs and he could very easily shape his own faith to allow for the animals. Jorah seemed unwilling to do the same. In fact, it seemed like Jorah was so attached to the literal interpretation of everything that he had become aloof to his own family as they partook in their own sins. Hazael just didn’t want to deal with it. Not when he was already tired, stressed, and just ready to go home.
However, the family couldn’t leave until the festival completed, so after the morning meal was eaten, the Avriam brood made their way towards the temple for the final day. He tried to think positively so that Yahweh wouldn’t be displeased with him, but that was a very difficult thing to do as he found a place next to his pious brother in the march to the temple.
“ I bet you’re excited.” Hazael muttered as the group started climbing the steps, trying to play nice and make some sort of light conversation. Who knew? Maybe Jorah’s happiness might rub off on Haz? Or maybe his brother was just as annoyed with his brother’s presence as Hazael was his… especially as Jorah knew something that the older boy had thought that he had kept a secret as several days ago, when the family was packing to leave, Jorah had seen Hazael empty a rather full coin purse into a small bag filled with money to be given to the temple. Hazael had thought no one had seen and his own rotten eyesight had kept him into the dark to the fact that this wasn’t true.
Now surely Jorah had questions that Hazael didn’t want to answer. Such as how did Hazael come across that much money? And why was he hiding it from the rest of the family? Most importantly, if asked directly, would Hazael divulge just how lucrative his business had become to a brother that might turn around tell their father; landing Haz in a lot of trouble?
Well, there was only one way for Jorah to find out…
Not even halfway up, and Gwyneth had already stumbled a few times as she tried to make her way up. Her small stature meant people easily overlooked her, and it was all she could do to not get her fingers stepped on as the people of Judea moved as one to pay their respects to Yahweh in the spiritual core of the city. Gwyneth can try to get people to watch where they were going, but was there really a point in her wasting her breathe? They barely even heard each other, she doubted they would hear her over the mess of people.
So instead, the brunette merely pushed on, giving up on ensuring her headscarf stayed in place at least until she got to her destination. Hearing a clear voice offering what she needed, Gwyneth turned to the source of the voice, and then the brunette paused when she saw the woman offering the necessities for prayer.
Her brows knitted together, trying to place where she had seen that face before, but Gwyneth's line of thought was jostled when someone pushed into her, causing her to pitch forward, her knees scraping the edges of the step. The girl cursed under her breath but quickly picked herself up lest she got stepped upon, before making her way to the pleasant looking lady, and held out a handful of coin.
"Lulav and etrogs please, and do accept my small token of thanks. Not payment, just thanks." she murmured when the items were offered for free. After spending some time in Jerusalem with the family just a few months prior, Gwyneth found it hard to take anything for free when she knew there may be people who may be homeless or unable to earn coin. While she was not the best off, she at leas could earn her own livelihood. "Are you heading up to offer prayers yourself?"
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Not even halfway up, and Gwyneth had already stumbled a few times as she tried to make her way up. Her small stature meant people easily overlooked her, and it was all she could do to not get her fingers stepped on as the people of Judea moved as one to pay their respects to Yahweh in the spiritual core of the city. Gwyneth can try to get people to watch where they were going, but was there really a point in her wasting her breathe? They barely even heard each other, she doubted they would hear her over the mess of people.
So instead, the brunette merely pushed on, giving up on ensuring her headscarf stayed in place at least until she got to her destination. Hearing a clear voice offering what she needed, Gwyneth turned to the source of the voice, and then the brunette paused when she saw the woman offering the necessities for prayer.
Her brows knitted together, trying to place where she had seen that face before, but Gwyneth's line of thought was jostled when someone pushed into her, causing her to pitch forward, her knees scraping the edges of the step. The girl cursed under her breath but quickly picked herself up lest she got stepped upon, before making her way to the pleasant looking lady, and held out a handful of coin.
"Lulav and etrogs please, and do accept my small token of thanks. Not payment, just thanks." she murmured when the items were offered for free. After spending some time in Jerusalem with the family just a few months prior, Gwyneth found it hard to take anything for free when she knew there may be people who may be homeless or unable to earn coin. While she was not the best off, she at leas could earn her own livelihood. "Are you heading up to offer prayers yourself?"
Not even halfway up, and Gwyneth had already stumbled a few times as she tried to make her way up. Her small stature meant people easily overlooked her, and it was all she could do to not get her fingers stepped on as the people of Judea moved as one to pay their respects to Yahweh in the spiritual core of the city. Gwyneth can try to get people to watch where they were going, but was there really a point in her wasting her breathe? They barely even heard each other, she doubted they would hear her over the mess of people.
So instead, the brunette merely pushed on, giving up on ensuring her headscarf stayed in place at least until she got to her destination. Hearing a clear voice offering what she needed, Gwyneth turned to the source of the voice, and then the brunette paused when she saw the woman offering the necessities for prayer.
Her brows knitted together, trying to place where she had seen that face before, but Gwyneth's line of thought was jostled when someone pushed into her, causing her to pitch forward, her knees scraping the edges of the step. The girl cursed under her breath but quickly picked herself up lest she got stepped upon, before making her way to the pleasant looking lady, and held out a handful of coin.
"Lulav and etrogs please, and do accept my small token of thanks. Not payment, just thanks." she murmured when the items were offered for free. After spending some time in Jerusalem with the family just a few months prior, Gwyneth found it hard to take anything for free when she knew there may be people who may be homeless or unable to earn coin. While she was not the best off, she at leas could earn her own livelihood. "Are you heading up to offer prayers yourself?"
Gossip May Your Future Be Bright
"Look there! Look there! It is the young men from the Jaffe family in Damascus!"
"Oh yes! My they do look pale. Perhaps it is true what they say - that those from Damascus prefer to be inside a book than out in the sunshine!"
"Hasn't done their social skills any harm though. I hear that Councilman Amiti is to wed!"
"I did too! Though stories seem to be confusing. Is he marrying two women?"
"Surely not! Remember? Their father hates anything that walks on two legs and calls itself female."
"Perhaps it is just the other way around and Elder Tzephaniah likes to lay blame elsewhere..."
JD
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JD
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"Look there! Look there! It is the young men from the Jaffe family in Damascus!"
"Oh yes! My they do look pale. Perhaps it is true what they say - that those from Damascus prefer to be inside a book than out in the sunshine!"
"Hasn't done their social skills any harm though. I hear that Councilman Amiti is to wed!"
"I did too! Though stories seem to be confusing. Is he marrying two women?"
"Surely not! Remember? Their father hates anything that walks on two legs and calls itself female."
"Perhaps it is just the other way around and Elder Tzephaniah likes to lay blame elsewhere..."
Gossip May Your Future Be Bright
"Look there! Look there! It is the young men from the Jaffe family in Damascus!"
"Oh yes! My they do look pale. Perhaps it is true what they say - that those from Damascus prefer to be inside a book than out in the sunshine!"
"Hasn't done their social skills any harm though. I hear that Councilman Amiti is to wed!"
"I did too! Though stories seem to be confusing. Is he marrying two women?"
"Surely not! Remember? Their father hates anything that walks on two legs and calls itself female."
"Perhaps it is just the other way around and Elder Tzephaniah likes to lay blame elsewhere..."
Hannah was quick in her work, distributing the items of worship to the crowds. Some offered her small tokens; some accepted the fact that the items were being offered without charge. Where a flower or a piece of fruit was offered in exchange for the holy plants, Hannah accepted them with thanks and a smile that could only be seen in her eyes as her mitzpahath stayed in place. And only then when she risked the glance of her fair stare. But when coins were offered, she shook her head, suggesting that they were made in offering to the temple instead. To which many were pleased at the suggestion and were happy to do so...
When a female voice spoke from her elbow and forced her to turn, Hannah smiled in order to ensure that her tone was a friendly one and raised the last basket that she still held. Despite arriving with four of them, the other three had been drained of their contents quickly enough over the first half hour of the festivities and she was now left with only a single basket to carry. The others had been taken by the temple in order to refill them with supplies given by other holy patrons.
When the voice requested a lulav and etrog, Hannah was quick to offer them out to the girl, choosing two of the least dented or bruised of the goods and offering them to her. A little coin was offered in exchange and dropped into the basket at the insistence that it was a gift over a payment.
Her tongue going dry as she looked down upon the little discs of metal, Hannah tried not to let her more selfish tendencies count the number of letters she might be able to send with such money. But she restrained herself. This was a celebration of faith. A festival of a new year. And a time to make wishes.
She could no displease God now.
With a mental promise to herself that she would offer them to the temple when she went to pray, relieving herself of the guilt, Hannah looked up at the question the young woman asked and spoke quickly before she noticed the girl's appearance-
"Yes, I am go-"
Her words trailed off in surprise, her eyes flying wide. For whilst she had her face covered and she was likely unrecognisable to the woman before her, the same was not true in reverse. And whilst nearly seven years had passed since she had witnessed this woman before her, it was not uncommon for such tender moments of kindness to leave more vivid marks upon one's memory.
For she remembered this girl. And her genuine act of altruism. In Damascus. Long ago...
"It is you!" Hannah spoke upon, the words leaving her lips before she could restrain them and her hand coming up to physically bar anything else that might leave her lips in a manner so humiliating as to confuse a perfect stranger...
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Hannah was quick in her work, distributing the items of worship to the crowds. Some offered her small tokens; some accepted the fact that the items were being offered without charge. Where a flower or a piece of fruit was offered in exchange for the holy plants, Hannah accepted them with thanks and a smile that could only be seen in her eyes as her mitzpahath stayed in place. And only then when she risked the glance of her fair stare. But when coins were offered, she shook her head, suggesting that they were made in offering to the temple instead. To which many were pleased at the suggestion and were happy to do so...
When a female voice spoke from her elbow and forced her to turn, Hannah smiled in order to ensure that her tone was a friendly one and raised the last basket that she still held. Despite arriving with four of them, the other three had been drained of their contents quickly enough over the first half hour of the festivities and she was now left with only a single basket to carry. The others had been taken by the temple in order to refill them with supplies given by other holy patrons.
When the voice requested a lulav and etrog, Hannah was quick to offer them out to the girl, choosing two of the least dented or bruised of the goods and offering them to her. A little coin was offered in exchange and dropped into the basket at the insistence that it was a gift over a payment.
Her tongue going dry as she looked down upon the little discs of metal, Hannah tried not to let her more selfish tendencies count the number of letters she might be able to send with such money. But she restrained herself. This was a celebration of faith. A festival of a new year. And a time to make wishes.
She could no displease God now.
With a mental promise to herself that she would offer them to the temple when she went to pray, relieving herself of the guilt, Hannah looked up at the question the young woman asked and spoke quickly before she noticed the girl's appearance-
"Yes, I am go-"
Her words trailed off in surprise, her eyes flying wide. For whilst she had her face covered and she was likely unrecognisable to the woman before her, the same was not true in reverse. And whilst nearly seven years had passed since she had witnessed this woman before her, it was not uncommon for such tender moments of kindness to leave more vivid marks upon one's memory.
For she remembered this girl. And her genuine act of altruism. In Damascus. Long ago...
"It is you!" Hannah spoke upon, the words leaving her lips before she could restrain them and her hand coming up to physically bar anything else that might leave her lips in a manner so humiliating as to confuse a perfect stranger...
Hannah was quick in her work, distributing the items of worship to the crowds. Some offered her small tokens; some accepted the fact that the items were being offered without charge. Where a flower or a piece of fruit was offered in exchange for the holy plants, Hannah accepted them with thanks and a smile that could only be seen in her eyes as her mitzpahath stayed in place. And only then when she risked the glance of her fair stare. But when coins were offered, she shook her head, suggesting that they were made in offering to the temple instead. To which many were pleased at the suggestion and were happy to do so...
When a female voice spoke from her elbow and forced her to turn, Hannah smiled in order to ensure that her tone was a friendly one and raised the last basket that she still held. Despite arriving with four of them, the other three had been drained of their contents quickly enough over the first half hour of the festivities and she was now left with only a single basket to carry. The others had been taken by the temple in order to refill them with supplies given by other holy patrons.
When the voice requested a lulav and etrog, Hannah was quick to offer them out to the girl, choosing two of the least dented or bruised of the goods and offering them to her. A little coin was offered in exchange and dropped into the basket at the insistence that it was a gift over a payment.
Her tongue going dry as she looked down upon the little discs of metal, Hannah tried not to let her more selfish tendencies count the number of letters she might be able to send with such money. But she restrained herself. This was a celebration of faith. A festival of a new year. And a time to make wishes.
She could no displease God now.
With a mental promise to herself that she would offer them to the temple when she went to pray, relieving herself of the guilt, Hannah looked up at the question the young woman asked and spoke quickly before she noticed the girl's appearance-
"Yes, I am go-"
Her words trailed off in surprise, her eyes flying wide. For whilst she had her face covered and she was likely unrecognisable to the woman before her, the same was not true in reverse. And whilst nearly seven years had passed since she had witnessed this woman before her, it was not uncommon for such tender moments of kindness to leave more vivid marks upon one's memory.
For she remembered this girl. And her genuine act of altruism. In Damascus. Long ago...
"It is you!" Hannah spoke upon, the words leaving her lips before she could restrain them and her hand coming up to physically bar anything else that might leave her lips in a manner so humiliating as to confuse a perfect stranger...
Once his brothers and father had this required objects, Amiti headed up with them towards the temple steps. He flatly ignored some of the whispers that made their way into his hearing. Two women indeed. But...that did bother him. Should he marry Amarissa? Would that flare the whispers more? Or less? No, he would ignore them for now. How else was he to put them to rest. Proving that he was not doing the very thing that people were gossiping about would surely absolve him, but he did hate that his father was being dragged through the mud. Again.
“Come father,” he said, taking Tzephaniah’s arm and hurrying him up the stairs, ahead of quite a few people. They passed Gwyneth speaking to the servant, past Hazael, a boy Amiti didn’t recognize as having helped several years before. Up, up, up he and his family climbed until they were on the temple porch and approaching the synagog. There were several spaces in the synagogs. One for women and children, one for foreigners, and one for men. It was into the male one that Amiti directed his entire family, so that they would be blissfully separated from the gossipers, whom he imagined to be all women. Women with their loose tongues and loose morals.
Bowing his head, Amiti waited for the High Priest to blow on the ram’s horn trumpet and to signal that all was ready. He was trying to recall if they’d brought the correct amount of sacrifices with them, if it would be enough to wash away the sins of the past year. If all was as it should be...he hoped so. Yahweh was forgiving, always, but did not love mistakes, and wouldn’t tolerate intentional ones without a contrite heart afterward. Amiti worked hard on humbling himself in the moment but it was so hard when he couldn’t remember doing anything terribly wrong. He wasn’t perfect, but he kinda was perfect. Ah well. A hard life to lead.
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Once his brothers and father had this required objects, Amiti headed up with them towards the temple steps. He flatly ignored some of the whispers that made their way into his hearing. Two women indeed. But...that did bother him. Should he marry Amarissa? Would that flare the whispers more? Or less? No, he would ignore them for now. How else was he to put them to rest. Proving that he was not doing the very thing that people were gossiping about would surely absolve him, but he did hate that his father was being dragged through the mud. Again.
“Come father,” he said, taking Tzephaniah’s arm and hurrying him up the stairs, ahead of quite a few people. They passed Gwyneth speaking to the servant, past Hazael, a boy Amiti didn’t recognize as having helped several years before. Up, up, up he and his family climbed until they were on the temple porch and approaching the synagog. There were several spaces in the synagogs. One for women and children, one for foreigners, and one for men. It was into the male one that Amiti directed his entire family, so that they would be blissfully separated from the gossipers, whom he imagined to be all women. Women with their loose tongues and loose morals.
Bowing his head, Amiti waited for the High Priest to blow on the ram’s horn trumpet and to signal that all was ready. He was trying to recall if they’d brought the correct amount of sacrifices with them, if it would be enough to wash away the sins of the past year. If all was as it should be...he hoped so. Yahweh was forgiving, always, but did not love mistakes, and wouldn’t tolerate intentional ones without a contrite heart afterward. Amiti worked hard on humbling himself in the moment but it was so hard when he couldn’t remember doing anything terribly wrong. He wasn’t perfect, but he kinda was perfect. Ah well. A hard life to lead.
Once his brothers and father had this required objects, Amiti headed up with them towards the temple steps. He flatly ignored some of the whispers that made their way into his hearing. Two women indeed. But...that did bother him. Should he marry Amarissa? Would that flare the whispers more? Or less? No, he would ignore them for now. How else was he to put them to rest. Proving that he was not doing the very thing that people were gossiping about would surely absolve him, but he did hate that his father was being dragged through the mud. Again.
“Come father,” he said, taking Tzephaniah’s arm and hurrying him up the stairs, ahead of quite a few people. They passed Gwyneth speaking to the servant, past Hazael, a boy Amiti didn’t recognize as having helped several years before. Up, up, up he and his family climbed until they were on the temple porch and approaching the synagog. There were several spaces in the synagogs. One for women and children, one for foreigners, and one for men. It was into the male one that Amiti directed his entire family, so that they would be blissfully separated from the gossipers, whom he imagined to be all women. Women with their loose tongues and loose morals.
Bowing his head, Amiti waited for the High Priest to blow on the ram’s horn trumpet and to signal that all was ready. He was trying to recall if they’d brought the correct amount of sacrifices with them, if it would be enough to wash away the sins of the past year. If all was as it should be...he hoped so. Yahweh was forgiving, always, but did not love mistakes, and wouldn’t tolerate intentional ones without a contrite heart afterward. Amiti worked hard on humbling himself in the moment but it was so hard when he couldn’t remember doing anything terribly wrong. He wasn’t perfect, but he kinda was perfect. Ah well. A hard life to lead.
Maeri always loved the religious festivals throughout the year. Especially when they involved traditions that meant doing something interesting, and very especially when they involved travel. Sleeping in tents outside, it was almost like they could pretend to be other people for a while. Well, she liked to pretend to be someone else for a while, Talora continued to be in the perpetual bad mood that she had been in for the last few months. Maeri supposed it must be hard for her to be as old as she was and to see her youngest sister married before her, so she tried to stay out of Talora’s way as much as possible. That was hard though when it was just the five of them and a very excitable dog sharing a tent together.
Today though, they were all going to the temple, to celebrate the final day of the festival. Everyone who was anyone would be there today. As long as you could afford it, you would come to the temple in Jerusalem for this event. Maeri was excited to see both friends and soon to be family. Not that she’d see much of her betrothed once they had entered the temple itself, where men and women prayed separately. But hopefully, she would have a chance to see him again afterward. Then there was Amarissa who she hadn’t seen since the engagement when she had left with her own family. She was surprised how much she had missed the companionship of her friend, and she was eager to see her again. Perhaps their families would be seated nearby once they had entered the temple.
As they passed through the courtyard of the temple, Maeri couldn’t help but grin a bit as she heard the gossip was about her. Yet, she found herself hiding her face with her Mitzpahath as well. She was glad that her impending marriage was the talk of the moment, but she had no desire to face the stares that came with it. Not that that did much good, her family was recognizable enough that they knew who she was whether or not they could see her face specifically. The best she could do was hide her own reaction to the news. Then she heard a bit of gossip that made her glad they couldn’t see her reaction. Amiti was supposed to marry two women? Who on earth could they be talking about?
Maeri frowned deeply and turned to her sister, Nedevah as they walked up the stairs into the temple. “What are they talking about? Amiti marrying two women? I didn’t think he was interested in anyone else.” But it was Talora who answered the question, her opinion uninvited. “Perhaps your fiance is a more interesting man than you thought.” The smirk on Talora’s face seemed to indicate a sort of secret knowledge that Maeri had always thought a bit dangerous. Quickly, Nedevah shushed their older sister. “Or more likely it's just talk. Not all rumors have any basis in fact. Amiti’s reputation has always been impeccable. I”m sure that’s why your mother matched you with him.”
Maeri sighed a bit in relief. “I’m sure you’re right, Nedevah.” Maeri responded, ignoring Talora’s response entirely. She didn’t like the implication that her new fiance was anything less than the perfect straight-laced man he presented to the world.
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Maeri always loved the religious festivals throughout the year. Especially when they involved traditions that meant doing something interesting, and very especially when they involved travel. Sleeping in tents outside, it was almost like they could pretend to be other people for a while. Well, she liked to pretend to be someone else for a while, Talora continued to be in the perpetual bad mood that she had been in for the last few months. Maeri supposed it must be hard for her to be as old as she was and to see her youngest sister married before her, so she tried to stay out of Talora’s way as much as possible. That was hard though when it was just the five of them and a very excitable dog sharing a tent together.
Today though, they were all going to the temple, to celebrate the final day of the festival. Everyone who was anyone would be there today. As long as you could afford it, you would come to the temple in Jerusalem for this event. Maeri was excited to see both friends and soon to be family. Not that she’d see much of her betrothed once they had entered the temple itself, where men and women prayed separately. But hopefully, she would have a chance to see him again afterward. Then there was Amarissa who she hadn’t seen since the engagement when she had left with her own family. She was surprised how much she had missed the companionship of her friend, and she was eager to see her again. Perhaps their families would be seated nearby once they had entered the temple.
As they passed through the courtyard of the temple, Maeri couldn’t help but grin a bit as she heard the gossip was about her. Yet, she found herself hiding her face with her Mitzpahath as well. She was glad that her impending marriage was the talk of the moment, but she had no desire to face the stares that came with it. Not that that did much good, her family was recognizable enough that they knew who she was whether or not they could see her face specifically. The best she could do was hide her own reaction to the news. Then she heard a bit of gossip that made her glad they couldn’t see her reaction. Amiti was supposed to marry two women? Who on earth could they be talking about?
Maeri frowned deeply and turned to her sister, Nedevah as they walked up the stairs into the temple. “What are they talking about? Amiti marrying two women? I didn’t think he was interested in anyone else.” But it was Talora who answered the question, her opinion uninvited. “Perhaps your fiance is a more interesting man than you thought.” The smirk on Talora’s face seemed to indicate a sort of secret knowledge that Maeri had always thought a bit dangerous. Quickly, Nedevah shushed their older sister. “Or more likely it's just talk. Not all rumors have any basis in fact. Amiti’s reputation has always been impeccable. I”m sure that’s why your mother matched you with him.”
Maeri sighed a bit in relief. “I’m sure you’re right, Nedevah.” Maeri responded, ignoring Talora’s response entirely. She didn’t like the implication that her new fiance was anything less than the perfect straight-laced man he presented to the world.
Maeri always loved the religious festivals throughout the year. Especially when they involved traditions that meant doing something interesting, and very especially when they involved travel. Sleeping in tents outside, it was almost like they could pretend to be other people for a while. Well, she liked to pretend to be someone else for a while, Talora continued to be in the perpetual bad mood that she had been in for the last few months. Maeri supposed it must be hard for her to be as old as she was and to see her youngest sister married before her, so she tried to stay out of Talora’s way as much as possible. That was hard though when it was just the five of them and a very excitable dog sharing a tent together.
Today though, they were all going to the temple, to celebrate the final day of the festival. Everyone who was anyone would be there today. As long as you could afford it, you would come to the temple in Jerusalem for this event. Maeri was excited to see both friends and soon to be family. Not that she’d see much of her betrothed once they had entered the temple itself, where men and women prayed separately. But hopefully, she would have a chance to see him again afterward. Then there was Amarissa who she hadn’t seen since the engagement when she had left with her own family. She was surprised how much she had missed the companionship of her friend, and she was eager to see her again. Perhaps their families would be seated nearby once they had entered the temple.
As they passed through the courtyard of the temple, Maeri couldn’t help but grin a bit as she heard the gossip was about her. Yet, she found herself hiding her face with her Mitzpahath as well. She was glad that her impending marriage was the talk of the moment, but she had no desire to face the stares that came with it. Not that that did much good, her family was recognizable enough that they knew who she was whether or not they could see her face specifically. The best she could do was hide her own reaction to the news. Then she heard a bit of gossip that made her glad they couldn’t see her reaction. Amiti was supposed to marry two women? Who on earth could they be talking about?
Maeri frowned deeply and turned to her sister, Nedevah as they walked up the stairs into the temple. “What are they talking about? Amiti marrying two women? I didn’t think he was interested in anyone else.” But it was Talora who answered the question, her opinion uninvited. “Perhaps your fiance is a more interesting man than you thought.” The smirk on Talora’s face seemed to indicate a sort of secret knowledge that Maeri had always thought a bit dangerous. Quickly, Nedevah shushed their older sister. “Or more likely it's just talk. Not all rumors have any basis in fact. Amiti’s reputation has always been impeccable. I”m sure that’s why your mother matched you with him.”
Maeri sighed a bit in relief. “I’m sure you’re right, Nedevah.” Maeri responded, ignoring Talora’s response entirely. She didn’t like the implication that her new fiance was anything less than the perfect straight-laced man he presented to the world.
Despite the physical discomfort of sharing a tent, Jorah found himself almost thrumming with nerves and a little excitement. His body ached from the hard ground on which they had placed tents down upon, and the suffocating heat that came from too many bodies in such a confined space. He'd had sleep, but it was fitful as Tiras tossed and turned. He mourned for the woman that would one day share a bed with him, with his restless kicking and jostling. Jorah was sure that Hazael had received the brunt of it since he'd been able to sleep through some of the nights. The swirling of anxiety in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with the headache he'd received from his lack of sleep and everything with the Hoshana Rabbah. No matter how many times they'd come to this festival, he always felt awed and almost cowed by the vast number of Judean citizens, and the glory of their faith.
He'd been eagerly awaiting this festival, pestering the local Rabbi for detailed descriptions of the ceremonies and prayers that would take place. Their judgement had already been set, but today was the day they'd receive it. Jorah trusted in himself that he was a good man, faithful and following the path that was allocated for him. Unfortunately, he was harbouring many secrets for the sake of his family. Tiras offer haunted him; the idea of turning their countrymen into warriors was a disturbing one. And his own brewing resentment towards his wrathful father was surely one that his Lord looked upon with much disapproval. He'd kept his lips firmly sealed on the topic of Hazael and his wealth too. Would this knowledge, unconfessed and kept secret, condemn him? Yahweh was a loving but stern God, Jorah just hoped he would be forgiving. Confessing would mean admitting to his guilt, keeping Tiras' rebellion secret was surely wasn't as bad as joining him and convincing the temple goers, but it still weighed on his conscience. His loyalties felt split, the Torah encouraging him to respect his parents and family but also to love Yahweh above all else.
As his family began to climb of the stairs, Jorah tried to drown out his oppressive thoughts with the reminder of what he was about to witness. He was grateful for Hazael's words, and he nodded his head once. "Excitement. Anticipation. Anxiety. We can only hope that his judgement is in our favour." he replied softly, not turning to look at the scruffier boy. It had been a few days since he'd seen Hazael with the bag of money, the one he'd seen at the temple. Although it did not surprise Jorah that his brother would give for charity, the sheer amount made him double take. Despite his flaws, one of them was compassion towards dogs. Surely if he could expend such adoration to a dirty animal, he'd donate to Israel's poorest citizens. No, it was not the intention he questioned at all. He'd run through many scenarios that Hazael could have obtained so much money, and come up with no answers. Jorah wondered if his brother kept any of it, These questions came rushing forth, and he couldn't help but ask.
"Are you keeping any of it? To, you know. Leave? Are you keeping any for yourself?" He hissed, carefully assessing how close his family stood. He didn't want to go into depth. He just needed to rest assured that his older brother had something to rely on if worst came to worst.
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Despite the physical discomfort of sharing a tent, Jorah found himself almost thrumming with nerves and a little excitement. His body ached from the hard ground on which they had placed tents down upon, and the suffocating heat that came from too many bodies in such a confined space. He'd had sleep, but it was fitful as Tiras tossed and turned. He mourned for the woman that would one day share a bed with him, with his restless kicking and jostling. Jorah was sure that Hazael had received the brunt of it since he'd been able to sleep through some of the nights. The swirling of anxiety in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with the headache he'd received from his lack of sleep and everything with the Hoshana Rabbah. No matter how many times they'd come to this festival, he always felt awed and almost cowed by the vast number of Judean citizens, and the glory of their faith.
He'd been eagerly awaiting this festival, pestering the local Rabbi for detailed descriptions of the ceremonies and prayers that would take place. Their judgement had already been set, but today was the day they'd receive it. Jorah trusted in himself that he was a good man, faithful and following the path that was allocated for him. Unfortunately, he was harbouring many secrets for the sake of his family. Tiras offer haunted him; the idea of turning their countrymen into warriors was a disturbing one. And his own brewing resentment towards his wrathful father was surely one that his Lord looked upon with much disapproval. He'd kept his lips firmly sealed on the topic of Hazael and his wealth too. Would this knowledge, unconfessed and kept secret, condemn him? Yahweh was a loving but stern God, Jorah just hoped he would be forgiving. Confessing would mean admitting to his guilt, keeping Tiras' rebellion secret was surely wasn't as bad as joining him and convincing the temple goers, but it still weighed on his conscience. His loyalties felt split, the Torah encouraging him to respect his parents and family but also to love Yahweh above all else.
As his family began to climb of the stairs, Jorah tried to drown out his oppressive thoughts with the reminder of what he was about to witness. He was grateful for Hazael's words, and he nodded his head once. "Excitement. Anticipation. Anxiety. We can only hope that his judgement is in our favour." he replied softly, not turning to look at the scruffier boy. It had been a few days since he'd seen Hazael with the bag of money, the one he'd seen at the temple. Although it did not surprise Jorah that his brother would give for charity, the sheer amount made him double take. Despite his flaws, one of them was compassion towards dogs. Surely if he could expend such adoration to a dirty animal, he'd donate to Israel's poorest citizens. No, it was not the intention he questioned at all. He'd run through many scenarios that Hazael could have obtained so much money, and come up with no answers. Jorah wondered if his brother kept any of it, These questions came rushing forth, and he couldn't help but ask.
"Are you keeping any of it? To, you know. Leave? Are you keeping any for yourself?" He hissed, carefully assessing how close his family stood. He didn't want to go into depth. He just needed to rest assured that his older brother had something to rely on if worst came to worst.
Despite the physical discomfort of sharing a tent, Jorah found himself almost thrumming with nerves and a little excitement. His body ached from the hard ground on which they had placed tents down upon, and the suffocating heat that came from too many bodies in such a confined space. He'd had sleep, but it was fitful as Tiras tossed and turned. He mourned for the woman that would one day share a bed with him, with his restless kicking and jostling. Jorah was sure that Hazael had received the brunt of it since he'd been able to sleep through some of the nights. The swirling of anxiety in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with the headache he'd received from his lack of sleep and everything with the Hoshana Rabbah. No matter how many times they'd come to this festival, he always felt awed and almost cowed by the vast number of Judean citizens, and the glory of their faith.
He'd been eagerly awaiting this festival, pestering the local Rabbi for detailed descriptions of the ceremonies and prayers that would take place. Their judgement had already been set, but today was the day they'd receive it. Jorah trusted in himself that he was a good man, faithful and following the path that was allocated for him. Unfortunately, he was harbouring many secrets for the sake of his family. Tiras offer haunted him; the idea of turning their countrymen into warriors was a disturbing one. And his own brewing resentment towards his wrathful father was surely one that his Lord looked upon with much disapproval. He'd kept his lips firmly sealed on the topic of Hazael and his wealth too. Would this knowledge, unconfessed and kept secret, condemn him? Yahweh was a loving but stern God, Jorah just hoped he would be forgiving. Confessing would mean admitting to his guilt, keeping Tiras' rebellion secret was surely wasn't as bad as joining him and convincing the temple goers, but it still weighed on his conscience. His loyalties felt split, the Torah encouraging him to respect his parents and family but also to love Yahweh above all else.
As his family began to climb of the stairs, Jorah tried to drown out his oppressive thoughts with the reminder of what he was about to witness. He was grateful for Hazael's words, and he nodded his head once. "Excitement. Anticipation. Anxiety. We can only hope that his judgement is in our favour." he replied softly, not turning to look at the scruffier boy. It had been a few days since he'd seen Hazael with the bag of money, the one he'd seen at the temple. Although it did not surprise Jorah that his brother would give for charity, the sheer amount made him double take. Despite his flaws, one of them was compassion towards dogs. Surely if he could expend such adoration to a dirty animal, he'd donate to Israel's poorest citizens. No, it was not the intention he questioned at all. He'd run through many scenarios that Hazael could have obtained so much money, and come up with no answers. Jorah wondered if his brother kept any of it, These questions came rushing forth, and he couldn't help but ask.
"Are you keeping any of it? To, you know. Leave? Are you keeping any for yourself?" He hissed, carefully assessing how close his family stood. He didn't want to go into depth. He just needed to rest assured that his older brother had something to rely on if worst came to worst.
Used to a life of poverty and a lack of food, Gwyneth was no stranger to going hungry to bed, or eating only just enough to not faint. It was far too often they had to ration their food, until Ayala went to work for the Jaffe Manheeg, and that was largely the reason why Gwyneth had been so angry when Ayala had been prosecuted. Her sister had been the sole breadwinner of the family by that time, after the death of their mother, and the ailing mind of their father, and her death basically guaranteed the downfall of both Gwyneth and her father.
But luckily, Gwyneth was a scrappy little thing.
Smiling when she saw the other's eyes go to the coin, a brief sense of gladness filled the young brunette's heart. The woman was kind, but kindness was often not begotten by the same in return, and Gwyneth was glad to at least offer some reprieve to the other's life. Perhaps they could sleep with a full belly that night at least. While the lulav and estrog was not of the finest quality, Gwyneth had never needed such things.It was the thought that counted, and surely Yahweh wouldn't hold it against her?
Eager to make a new friend as they joined the crowds ascending the stairs to the Holy Sanctuary, Gwyneth blinked in surprise when the other gasped and spoke in a manner that seemed almost as if she knew her. Did she forget something? She had not met many outside of Damascus, and before her employment with the Manheeg, had never even travelled outside the city before. "Do... I know you?" she murmured in return, blinking in genuine confusion as she tried and failed to place the pretty looking face she now saw before her.
Briefly, she glanced over her shoulders to see her employer's passing by, and a short frown furrowed her brows at the whispers that flew regarding the family of Tzephaniah and his sons. She would not correct them, for the masses were not wrong - even in the household, while they were not mistreated persay, the men of the household never did have a second glance for the women of the servant quarters, unless one discounted Thaddeus.
But she had been given time off to provide her prayers, as such Gwyneth was not required to follow after them. As such, she returned her attention to the pretty offerer of the etrog and lulav she now held in her hands, and cocked her head to the right. "I'm so sorry, but I cannot seem to recall." she murmured, just as the ram horn's trumpet blew in the distance, signally all was ready for the prayers to begin.
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Used to a life of poverty and a lack of food, Gwyneth was no stranger to going hungry to bed, or eating only just enough to not faint. It was far too often they had to ration their food, until Ayala went to work for the Jaffe Manheeg, and that was largely the reason why Gwyneth had been so angry when Ayala had been prosecuted. Her sister had been the sole breadwinner of the family by that time, after the death of their mother, and the ailing mind of their father, and her death basically guaranteed the downfall of both Gwyneth and her father.
But luckily, Gwyneth was a scrappy little thing.
Smiling when she saw the other's eyes go to the coin, a brief sense of gladness filled the young brunette's heart. The woman was kind, but kindness was often not begotten by the same in return, and Gwyneth was glad to at least offer some reprieve to the other's life. Perhaps they could sleep with a full belly that night at least. While the lulav and estrog was not of the finest quality, Gwyneth had never needed such things.It was the thought that counted, and surely Yahweh wouldn't hold it against her?
Eager to make a new friend as they joined the crowds ascending the stairs to the Holy Sanctuary, Gwyneth blinked in surprise when the other gasped and spoke in a manner that seemed almost as if she knew her. Did she forget something? She had not met many outside of Damascus, and before her employment with the Manheeg, had never even travelled outside the city before. "Do... I know you?" she murmured in return, blinking in genuine confusion as she tried and failed to place the pretty looking face she now saw before her.
Briefly, she glanced over her shoulders to see her employer's passing by, and a short frown furrowed her brows at the whispers that flew regarding the family of Tzephaniah and his sons. She would not correct them, for the masses were not wrong - even in the household, while they were not mistreated persay, the men of the household never did have a second glance for the women of the servant quarters, unless one discounted Thaddeus.
But she had been given time off to provide her prayers, as such Gwyneth was not required to follow after them. As such, she returned her attention to the pretty offerer of the etrog and lulav she now held in her hands, and cocked her head to the right. "I'm so sorry, but I cannot seem to recall." she murmured, just as the ram horn's trumpet blew in the distance, signally all was ready for the prayers to begin.
Used to a life of poverty and a lack of food, Gwyneth was no stranger to going hungry to bed, or eating only just enough to not faint. It was far too often they had to ration their food, until Ayala went to work for the Jaffe Manheeg, and that was largely the reason why Gwyneth had been so angry when Ayala had been prosecuted. Her sister had been the sole breadwinner of the family by that time, after the death of their mother, and the ailing mind of their father, and her death basically guaranteed the downfall of both Gwyneth and her father.
But luckily, Gwyneth was a scrappy little thing.
Smiling when she saw the other's eyes go to the coin, a brief sense of gladness filled the young brunette's heart. The woman was kind, but kindness was often not begotten by the same in return, and Gwyneth was glad to at least offer some reprieve to the other's life. Perhaps they could sleep with a full belly that night at least. While the lulav and estrog was not of the finest quality, Gwyneth had never needed such things.It was the thought that counted, and surely Yahweh wouldn't hold it against her?
Eager to make a new friend as they joined the crowds ascending the stairs to the Holy Sanctuary, Gwyneth blinked in surprise when the other gasped and spoke in a manner that seemed almost as if she knew her. Did she forget something? She had not met many outside of Damascus, and before her employment with the Manheeg, had never even travelled outside the city before. "Do... I know you?" she murmured in return, blinking in genuine confusion as she tried and failed to place the pretty looking face she now saw before her.
Briefly, she glanced over her shoulders to see her employer's passing by, and a short frown furrowed her brows at the whispers that flew regarding the family of Tzephaniah and his sons. She would not correct them, for the masses were not wrong - even in the household, while they were not mistreated persay, the men of the household never did have a second glance for the women of the servant quarters, unless one discounted Thaddeus.
But she had been given time off to provide her prayers, as such Gwyneth was not required to follow after them. As such, she returned her attention to the pretty offerer of the etrog and lulav she now held in her hands, and cocked her head to the right. "I'm so sorry, but I cannot seem to recall." she murmured, just as the ram horn's trumpet blew in the distance, signally all was ready for the prayers to begin.
Noticing the way that the young woman watched the crowd and clearly knew some of the lords and ladies that passed - but did not follow them in a manner that suggested her being a servant or a slave - Hannah assumed the pretty young lady to be a simple citizen. As she had once been during her short-lived marriage. And whilst that might sit her squarely in the central and average level in the social hierarchy of the world, it stated her as Hannah's superior by far. Regardless of what money, clothing or food she might be able to own and wield - or in fact, not - the woman before her clearly owned her own life. Which was more than could be said for Hannah and her current state of slavery.
And yet she had only three more years of it. This was what she continued to tell herself. Three more years and she would be free to go where she would, earn what she could and travel to the Grecian lands north of Judea where she could find her love once more.
Turning her focus back to the matter at hand, however, Hannah tried to shake off the quiet sense of sorrow that seeped into the backs of her mind and the corners of her heart whenever she thought of the man currently listed as dead in the Israeli City House. Instead, she looked back to the pretty girl who stared at her with a look of confusion that had her feeling thoroughly insignificant.
Smiling sadly to herself behind her mitzpahath, Hannah glanced down at her empty hands, wishing that she still had the basket to reposition awkwardly in her arms. But of course, this woman would not remember her. It was a moment in both their lives which was so fleeting that it would have been removed from both of their memories had it not been so vital an act in Hannah's world. In that moment, when she was at her most starved and most desperate, this woman had come to aid her and show her compassion. It was almost impossible not to remember such a thing. And yet, on the flipside of that interaction... it was probably just another day of random happenstance in her life, wiped clean from a long-term memory that had no reason to hold onto it.
"Of course..." Hannah muttered in a tone that sounded almost apologetic for confusing the lady before her. She bowed her head respectfully and kept her gaze low. "It was nothing to you, I'm sure, kind lady but I was shown kindness by you several years passed." Her knees bent in a soft curtsey of respect, her arm bending to fold her hand towards the centre of her chest. "I did not get the opportunity to thank you then but perhaps Yahweh has given me that chance now."
Her voice was calm behind her shawl but her eyes were tender as she looked up to meet the young woman's stare for a moment at the suggestion. Her pale orbs were drawn away quickly, however, when the low bugle was sounded that confirmed it to be the time for prayers.
Whilst there was no possible way that so many of the faithful - drawn to the religious centre of Judea on pilgrimage - would ever fit inside the temple, the call to prayer was not a summoning to enter the building. Instead, it was a calling for all to fall silent, for the chief rabbi to be given absolute quiet so that he might take his position upon a pedestal at the centre of the seven rings of bodies and call out the psalms in Hebrew. Those that surrounded him would be expected to chant with him, filling in their promises and vows to the faith for the year to come...
"We should enter into the circles..." Hannah murmured quietly, eager to take her place and pray for a good year in her future. She looked about herself unsure how to find a place where she might break the connection between two people in order to insert herself and the kind lady before her into the formation. As a slave, she could hardly push at her superiors...
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Noticing the way that the young woman watched the crowd and clearly knew some of the lords and ladies that passed - but did not follow them in a manner that suggested her being a servant or a slave - Hannah assumed the pretty young lady to be a simple citizen. As she had once been during her short-lived marriage. And whilst that might sit her squarely in the central and average level in the social hierarchy of the world, it stated her as Hannah's superior by far. Regardless of what money, clothing or food she might be able to own and wield - or in fact, not - the woman before her clearly owned her own life. Which was more than could be said for Hannah and her current state of slavery.
And yet she had only three more years of it. This was what she continued to tell herself. Three more years and she would be free to go where she would, earn what she could and travel to the Grecian lands north of Judea where she could find her love once more.
Turning her focus back to the matter at hand, however, Hannah tried to shake off the quiet sense of sorrow that seeped into the backs of her mind and the corners of her heart whenever she thought of the man currently listed as dead in the Israeli City House. Instead, she looked back to the pretty girl who stared at her with a look of confusion that had her feeling thoroughly insignificant.
Smiling sadly to herself behind her mitzpahath, Hannah glanced down at her empty hands, wishing that she still had the basket to reposition awkwardly in her arms. But of course, this woman would not remember her. It was a moment in both their lives which was so fleeting that it would have been removed from both of their memories had it not been so vital an act in Hannah's world. In that moment, when she was at her most starved and most desperate, this woman had come to aid her and show her compassion. It was almost impossible not to remember such a thing. And yet, on the flipside of that interaction... it was probably just another day of random happenstance in her life, wiped clean from a long-term memory that had no reason to hold onto it.
"Of course..." Hannah muttered in a tone that sounded almost apologetic for confusing the lady before her. She bowed her head respectfully and kept her gaze low. "It was nothing to you, I'm sure, kind lady but I was shown kindness by you several years passed." Her knees bent in a soft curtsey of respect, her arm bending to fold her hand towards the centre of her chest. "I did not get the opportunity to thank you then but perhaps Yahweh has given me that chance now."
Her voice was calm behind her shawl but her eyes were tender as she looked up to meet the young woman's stare for a moment at the suggestion. Her pale orbs were drawn away quickly, however, when the low bugle was sounded that confirmed it to be the time for prayers.
Whilst there was no possible way that so many of the faithful - drawn to the religious centre of Judea on pilgrimage - would ever fit inside the temple, the call to prayer was not a summoning to enter the building. Instead, it was a calling for all to fall silent, for the chief rabbi to be given absolute quiet so that he might take his position upon a pedestal at the centre of the seven rings of bodies and call out the psalms in Hebrew. Those that surrounded him would be expected to chant with him, filling in their promises and vows to the faith for the year to come...
"We should enter into the circles..." Hannah murmured quietly, eager to take her place and pray for a good year in her future. She looked about herself unsure how to find a place where she might break the connection between two people in order to insert herself and the kind lady before her into the formation. As a slave, she could hardly push at her superiors...
Noticing the way that the young woman watched the crowd and clearly knew some of the lords and ladies that passed - but did not follow them in a manner that suggested her being a servant or a slave - Hannah assumed the pretty young lady to be a simple citizen. As she had once been during her short-lived marriage. And whilst that might sit her squarely in the central and average level in the social hierarchy of the world, it stated her as Hannah's superior by far. Regardless of what money, clothing or food she might be able to own and wield - or in fact, not - the woman before her clearly owned her own life. Which was more than could be said for Hannah and her current state of slavery.
And yet she had only three more years of it. This was what she continued to tell herself. Three more years and she would be free to go where she would, earn what she could and travel to the Grecian lands north of Judea where she could find her love once more.
Turning her focus back to the matter at hand, however, Hannah tried to shake off the quiet sense of sorrow that seeped into the backs of her mind and the corners of her heart whenever she thought of the man currently listed as dead in the Israeli City House. Instead, she looked back to the pretty girl who stared at her with a look of confusion that had her feeling thoroughly insignificant.
Smiling sadly to herself behind her mitzpahath, Hannah glanced down at her empty hands, wishing that she still had the basket to reposition awkwardly in her arms. But of course, this woman would not remember her. It was a moment in both their lives which was so fleeting that it would have been removed from both of their memories had it not been so vital an act in Hannah's world. In that moment, when she was at her most starved and most desperate, this woman had come to aid her and show her compassion. It was almost impossible not to remember such a thing. And yet, on the flipside of that interaction... it was probably just another day of random happenstance in her life, wiped clean from a long-term memory that had no reason to hold onto it.
"Of course..." Hannah muttered in a tone that sounded almost apologetic for confusing the lady before her. She bowed her head respectfully and kept her gaze low. "It was nothing to you, I'm sure, kind lady but I was shown kindness by you several years passed." Her knees bent in a soft curtsey of respect, her arm bending to fold her hand towards the centre of her chest. "I did not get the opportunity to thank you then but perhaps Yahweh has given me that chance now."
Her voice was calm behind her shawl but her eyes were tender as she looked up to meet the young woman's stare for a moment at the suggestion. Her pale orbs were drawn away quickly, however, when the low bugle was sounded that confirmed it to be the time for prayers.
Whilst there was no possible way that so many of the faithful - drawn to the religious centre of Judea on pilgrimage - would ever fit inside the temple, the call to prayer was not a summoning to enter the building. Instead, it was a calling for all to fall silent, for the chief rabbi to be given absolute quiet so that he might take his position upon a pedestal at the centre of the seven rings of bodies and call out the psalms in Hebrew. Those that surrounded him would be expected to chant with him, filling in their promises and vows to the faith for the year to come...
"We should enter into the circles..." Hannah murmured quietly, eager to take her place and pray for a good year in her future. She looked about herself unsure how to find a place where she might break the connection between two people in order to insert herself and the kind lady before her into the formation. As a slave, she could hardly push at her superiors...
Thaddeus was out in public with his family, as required. Thaddeus was also on his best behavior, other than perhaps looking over at their servant, Gwyn, a little too often. He just could not help himself. He followed closely behind his older brother, and was quiteH quiet. It was Hoshana Rabbah and incredibly important- Thad recognized this. He smiled when his brother offered him the needed items, and he gratefully took it. He glanced over at his father, before helping Shiloh. He looked over at Hannah, and nodded his thanks towards her. Then the whisper’s came. They felt like ice against the back of his neck, and frowned deeply. His expression showed that he was outright bothered by them. He didn’t like people talking about his family-especially his brother. He glanced back, his eyes flickering this and that to try to find the source, but he couldn’t. He tried to gauge how Amiti felt, and didn’t find much of a reaction. In any other circumstance, thaddeus would have tried to call the voices out, but…. He had promised himself he wouldn’t embarrass his brother on this sacred day. Amiti wasn’t reacting, so he wouldn’t either.
He followed his family up to the temple porch, slowing when he saw Gwyn once more and then continuing forward. He saw Hazael, the boy whom he had helped with his dogs, and waved a friendly hand in hello. He wasn’t sure if he saw him, but if he did, he hoped to be able to say a proper greeting eventually. Perhaps, after prayer. Right now, they needed to get to a good spot. He stood next to Amiti and bowed his head along with him, to wash their sins away. Thaddeus knew that Yahweh was of reason, and forgiving… and he felt like he could have been better this year. Better for Amiti, better for… well, there were things he wished he had done differently. Thaddeus muttered under his breath, hoping only Amiti would hear. “Should have brought more.” He uttered, speaking of the sacrifices. Going through the year through his head, well… things kept popping up. He should have done more charity, should have been more grateful… He spent his time plumbing through his thoughts, sitting with them so to speak. He ignored what was around them, even Gwyn, who he had lost track of by then. Thaddeus closed his eyes before remembering again the whispers. He couldn’t stop himself from not being bothered by them. “I can’t stand when they talk about you like that, brother,” He uttered quietly, glancing over at Amiti.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Thaddeus was out in public with his family, as required. Thaddeus was also on his best behavior, other than perhaps looking over at their servant, Gwyn, a little too often. He just could not help himself. He followed closely behind his older brother, and was quiteH quiet. It was Hoshana Rabbah and incredibly important- Thad recognized this. He smiled when his brother offered him the needed items, and he gratefully took it. He glanced over at his father, before helping Shiloh. He looked over at Hannah, and nodded his thanks towards her. Then the whisper’s came. They felt like ice against the back of his neck, and frowned deeply. His expression showed that he was outright bothered by them. He didn’t like people talking about his family-especially his brother. He glanced back, his eyes flickering this and that to try to find the source, but he couldn’t. He tried to gauge how Amiti felt, and didn’t find much of a reaction. In any other circumstance, thaddeus would have tried to call the voices out, but…. He had promised himself he wouldn’t embarrass his brother on this sacred day. Amiti wasn’t reacting, so he wouldn’t either.
He followed his family up to the temple porch, slowing when he saw Gwyn once more and then continuing forward. He saw Hazael, the boy whom he had helped with his dogs, and waved a friendly hand in hello. He wasn’t sure if he saw him, but if he did, he hoped to be able to say a proper greeting eventually. Perhaps, after prayer. Right now, they needed to get to a good spot. He stood next to Amiti and bowed his head along with him, to wash their sins away. Thaddeus knew that Yahweh was of reason, and forgiving… and he felt like he could have been better this year. Better for Amiti, better for… well, there were things he wished he had done differently. Thaddeus muttered under his breath, hoping only Amiti would hear. “Should have brought more.” He uttered, speaking of the sacrifices. Going through the year through his head, well… things kept popping up. He should have done more charity, should have been more grateful… He spent his time plumbing through his thoughts, sitting with them so to speak. He ignored what was around them, even Gwyn, who he had lost track of by then. Thaddeus closed his eyes before remembering again the whispers. He couldn’t stop himself from not being bothered by them. “I can’t stand when they talk about you like that, brother,” He uttered quietly, glancing over at Amiti.
Thaddeus was out in public with his family, as required. Thaddeus was also on his best behavior, other than perhaps looking over at their servant, Gwyn, a little too often. He just could not help himself. He followed closely behind his older brother, and was quiteH quiet. It was Hoshana Rabbah and incredibly important- Thad recognized this. He smiled when his brother offered him the needed items, and he gratefully took it. He glanced over at his father, before helping Shiloh. He looked over at Hannah, and nodded his thanks towards her. Then the whisper’s came. They felt like ice against the back of his neck, and frowned deeply. His expression showed that he was outright bothered by them. He didn’t like people talking about his family-especially his brother. He glanced back, his eyes flickering this and that to try to find the source, but he couldn’t. He tried to gauge how Amiti felt, and didn’t find much of a reaction. In any other circumstance, thaddeus would have tried to call the voices out, but…. He had promised himself he wouldn’t embarrass his brother on this sacred day. Amiti wasn’t reacting, so he wouldn’t either.
He followed his family up to the temple porch, slowing when he saw Gwyn once more and then continuing forward. He saw Hazael, the boy whom he had helped with his dogs, and waved a friendly hand in hello. He wasn’t sure if he saw him, but if he did, he hoped to be able to say a proper greeting eventually. Perhaps, after prayer. Right now, they needed to get to a good spot. He stood next to Amiti and bowed his head along with him, to wash their sins away. Thaddeus knew that Yahweh was of reason, and forgiving… and he felt like he could have been better this year. Better for Amiti, better for… well, there were things he wished he had done differently. Thaddeus muttered under his breath, hoping only Amiti would hear. “Should have brought more.” He uttered, speaking of the sacrifices. Going through the year through his head, well… things kept popping up. He should have done more charity, should have been more grateful… He spent his time plumbing through his thoughts, sitting with them so to speak. He ignored what was around them, even Gwyn, who he had lost track of by then. Thaddeus closed his eyes before remembering again the whispers. He couldn’t stop himself from not being bothered by them. “I can’t stand when they talk about you like that, brother,” He uttered quietly, glancing over at Amiti.