The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
The Grecian soldiers of Judea have been summoned to aid their brethren. The message from King Achilleas has arrived and the Grecian soldiers are ready to pack their things and head out across the savannah dunes that divide Egypt from Judea. As the dark shadow of their crowds of unit disappears upon the horizon, the people of Israel are called to action. For the Elders of the Council had spoken and many Councilmen have arrived to see the order carried out... the gates will be barred. And no Greek, injured or in good health, will again cross their threshold.
As a mass, the Judeans are called to enact the will of their leaders. The belongings of Grecians are to be packed and bound. The doors of Israel are to be affixed with heavier beams and cross guards to be lowered in defence of those who are defined as unwelcome. The verdict from the Council is simple. The Grecians shall be permitted a day to enter the city, collect their pre-packed belongings, and then leave the Judeans to continue their existence sheltered and protected from the wars of foreign lands. Even the defenders of the faith from Jerusalem - the only force of any militant skill in Judea - have been summoned to protect the main gates of Israel. One visit more is all the Grecians will get - as a show of good faith. Beyond that... Judea is no longer the home of those that bear Grecian blood or spill that of Egyptians...
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
The Grecian soldiers of Judea have been summoned to aid their brethren. The message from King Achilleas has arrived and the Grecian soldiers are ready to pack their things and head out across the savannah dunes that divide Egypt from Judea. As the dark shadow of their crowds of unit disappears upon the horizon, the people of Israel are called to action. For the Elders of the Council had spoken and many Councilmen have arrived to see the order carried out... the gates will be barred. And no Greek, injured or in good health, will again cross their threshold.
As a mass, the Judeans are called to enact the will of their leaders. The belongings of Grecians are to be packed and bound. The doors of Israel are to be affixed with heavier beams and cross guards to be lowered in defence of those who are defined as unwelcome. The verdict from the Council is simple. The Grecians shall be permitted a day to enter the city, collect their pre-packed belongings, and then leave the Judeans to continue their existence sheltered and protected from the wars of foreign lands. Even the defenders of the faith from Jerusalem - the only force of any militant skill in Judea - have been summoned to protect the main gates of Israel. One visit more is all the Grecians will get - as a show of good faith. Beyond that... Judea is no longer the home of those that bear Grecian blood or spill that of Egyptians...
The Way Is Shut Event - Judea
The Grecian soldiers of Judea have been summoned to aid their brethren. The message from King Achilleas has arrived and the Grecian soldiers are ready to pack their things and head out across the savannah dunes that divide Egypt from Judea. As the dark shadow of their crowds of unit disappears upon the horizon, the people of Israel are called to action. For the Elders of the Council had spoken and many Councilmen have arrived to see the order carried out... the gates will be barred. And no Greek, injured or in good health, will again cross their threshold.
As a mass, the Judeans are called to enact the will of their leaders. The belongings of Grecians are to be packed and bound. The doors of Israel are to be affixed with heavier beams and cross guards to be lowered in defence of those who are defined as unwelcome. The verdict from the Council is simple. The Grecians shall be permitted a day to enter the city, collect their pre-packed belongings, and then leave the Judeans to continue their existence sheltered and protected from the wars of foreign lands. Even the defenders of the faith from Jerusalem - the only force of any militant skill in Judea - have been summoned to protect the main gates of Israel. One visit more is all the Grecians will get - as a show of good faith. Beyond that... Judea is no longer the home of those that bear Grecian blood or spill that of Egyptians...
Hannah had been outside of life for so long in recent years. The life of a slave was one that lacked any degree of significance to the world as a whole - an extension only of the master that held the chain. You were not your own individual and therefore could not be a point of change or affectation upon the world around you.
Yet, it seemed these days that everything happened in proximity to her, even if she herself was not an active or important party to its creation.
In part, this was perhaps to do with her own mental state. For years after she had entered into slavery there had been the difficulties of acceptance and understanding. The struggle of realising that her life as an individual - as a wife - was now over. Then there was the loss of her child, the changing of hands between masters, the learning of new towns and geography and dialects. So many traumatic shifts and sways in her life that had eaten away at all her energy and recognition of the world around her.
Now, however, he ownership papers had led her back to Israel - a city that she knew, that she did not have to learn, with a dialect and people that were familiar - including that of the Greeks that had been in long stay there. She was in the ownership of a man who dealt in fabrics which was something she knew reasonably well and it had been some time since her own personal tragedies had passed into her history, if not from her mind.
It was only now, perhaps, that Hannah had had the opportunity to look up from the wading workload that had given her purpose for the last seven years - only now that she recognised the series of global events that were occurring.
Perhaps, on the other hand, it was simple geography that was to blame; that Ammun was too far removed from the activities and dramatics of the world for her to truly be a part of such a thing whilst she had been owned there. Or maybe it was her latest owner and his desire to be at the centre of things, to increase his business' reach and to hopefully marry a noble lady of Judea that had her always at the centre of attentions that she neither wanted nor sought.
And yet, here she was.
Looking about herself, as she straightened, Hannah felt her back crack a little with the movement and winced against the ache in her shoulders. She placed a hand on either side of her hips, her fingers stretching towards the small of her back and leaned with an elegant bow to her frame as she straightened out the tensions of labour from her muscles. Again, she rolled up the sleeves of her simlah, unable to discard it entirely for propriety's sake but needing it to rest at her elbows not her wrists. It kept falling down and she kept folding it back, the edges of the sleeves tucked into the tie at her waist.
When she was done, she bent back over and resumed her work.
As the slave girl of a man who worked with fabrics, she had been given to the Cause of removing the Grecian inhabitants from Israel and had been set the task of cleaning all of the materials that came from the homes the Judeans were systematically cleaning out. As possessions and items were taken from slaves and servants that didn't know what to do, standing awkwardly in their Grecian masters' homes, anything that was perhaps sheets for bedding or hanging shades or awnings for the sun were given to her. She then washed them within the large wooden basin she stood over, beating dust, sand and dirt from the items with the ribbed washboard beneath the suds. Once the items were clean, she then passed them to the next slave in the line who hung them on a string across the street, allowing them to dry before they would be re-appropriated by the Council House and dispensed with as they saw fit.
The items in question were never the personal possessions of the Greeks. The areas that the Grecians had taken on as their own had been houses before they arrived. And items that they could not bring from Greece had been provided for them. Such information, Hannah knew from a Grecian Commander way back when. Before her life had changed forever. A steward of the house of Azari - more than one, in fact - wandered the streets with sheets of information, recording and confirming which items were free to be taken, washed or stored and then shipped to the Council House and which were the personal effects of the Grecian tenants and needed to be carefully packed or folded or boxed ready for their return.
Hannah felt a growing unease over it all and found her eye wandering to the horizon that she could see beyond the gates of the city that currently stood open as their hollow patches were measured for reinforcement wood. If the Grecians were to turn around, to come back for some reason and witness what was happening here before the Azari were to send them the formal information... It did not bear thinking on.
Some might have called such a manoeuvre cowardly. But when the Judean cities had no military, there were limited options that could be taken at such times. This was the one that the Council of Elders had decided was the safest for all... All Judeans, at least.
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Hannah had been outside of life for so long in recent years. The life of a slave was one that lacked any degree of significance to the world as a whole - an extension only of the master that held the chain. You were not your own individual and therefore could not be a point of change or affectation upon the world around you.
Yet, it seemed these days that everything happened in proximity to her, even if she herself was not an active or important party to its creation.
In part, this was perhaps to do with her own mental state. For years after she had entered into slavery there had been the difficulties of acceptance and understanding. The struggle of realising that her life as an individual - as a wife - was now over. Then there was the loss of her child, the changing of hands between masters, the learning of new towns and geography and dialects. So many traumatic shifts and sways in her life that had eaten away at all her energy and recognition of the world around her.
Now, however, he ownership papers had led her back to Israel - a city that she knew, that she did not have to learn, with a dialect and people that were familiar - including that of the Greeks that had been in long stay there. She was in the ownership of a man who dealt in fabrics which was something she knew reasonably well and it had been some time since her own personal tragedies had passed into her history, if not from her mind.
It was only now, perhaps, that Hannah had had the opportunity to look up from the wading workload that had given her purpose for the last seven years - only now that she recognised the series of global events that were occurring.
Perhaps, on the other hand, it was simple geography that was to blame; that Ammun was too far removed from the activities and dramatics of the world for her to truly be a part of such a thing whilst she had been owned there. Or maybe it was her latest owner and his desire to be at the centre of things, to increase his business' reach and to hopefully marry a noble lady of Judea that had her always at the centre of attentions that she neither wanted nor sought.
And yet, here she was.
Looking about herself, as she straightened, Hannah felt her back crack a little with the movement and winced against the ache in her shoulders. She placed a hand on either side of her hips, her fingers stretching towards the small of her back and leaned with an elegant bow to her frame as she straightened out the tensions of labour from her muscles. Again, she rolled up the sleeves of her simlah, unable to discard it entirely for propriety's sake but needing it to rest at her elbows not her wrists. It kept falling down and she kept folding it back, the edges of the sleeves tucked into the tie at her waist.
When she was done, she bent back over and resumed her work.
As the slave girl of a man who worked with fabrics, she had been given to the Cause of removing the Grecian inhabitants from Israel and had been set the task of cleaning all of the materials that came from the homes the Judeans were systematically cleaning out. As possessions and items were taken from slaves and servants that didn't know what to do, standing awkwardly in their Grecian masters' homes, anything that was perhaps sheets for bedding or hanging shades or awnings for the sun were given to her. She then washed them within the large wooden basin she stood over, beating dust, sand and dirt from the items with the ribbed washboard beneath the suds. Once the items were clean, she then passed them to the next slave in the line who hung them on a string across the street, allowing them to dry before they would be re-appropriated by the Council House and dispensed with as they saw fit.
The items in question were never the personal possessions of the Greeks. The areas that the Grecians had taken on as their own had been houses before they arrived. And items that they could not bring from Greece had been provided for them. Such information, Hannah knew from a Grecian Commander way back when. Before her life had changed forever. A steward of the house of Azari - more than one, in fact - wandered the streets with sheets of information, recording and confirming which items were free to be taken, washed or stored and then shipped to the Council House and which were the personal effects of the Grecian tenants and needed to be carefully packed or folded or boxed ready for their return.
Hannah felt a growing unease over it all and found her eye wandering to the horizon that she could see beyond the gates of the city that currently stood open as their hollow patches were measured for reinforcement wood. If the Grecians were to turn around, to come back for some reason and witness what was happening here before the Azari were to send them the formal information... It did not bear thinking on.
Some might have called such a manoeuvre cowardly. But when the Judean cities had no military, there were limited options that could be taken at such times. This was the one that the Council of Elders had decided was the safest for all... All Judeans, at least.
Hannah had been outside of life for so long in recent years. The life of a slave was one that lacked any degree of significance to the world as a whole - an extension only of the master that held the chain. You were not your own individual and therefore could not be a point of change or affectation upon the world around you.
Yet, it seemed these days that everything happened in proximity to her, even if she herself was not an active or important party to its creation.
In part, this was perhaps to do with her own mental state. For years after she had entered into slavery there had been the difficulties of acceptance and understanding. The struggle of realising that her life as an individual - as a wife - was now over. Then there was the loss of her child, the changing of hands between masters, the learning of new towns and geography and dialects. So many traumatic shifts and sways in her life that had eaten away at all her energy and recognition of the world around her.
Now, however, he ownership papers had led her back to Israel - a city that she knew, that she did not have to learn, with a dialect and people that were familiar - including that of the Greeks that had been in long stay there. She was in the ownership of a man who dealt in fabrics which was something she knew reasonably well and it had been some time since her own personal tragedies had passed into her history, if not from her mind.
It was only now, perhaps, that Hannah had had the opportunity to look up from the wading workload that had given her purpose for the last seven years - only now that she recognised the series of global events that were occurring.
Perhaps, on the other hand, it was simple geography that was to blame; that Ammun was too far removed from the activities and dramatics of the world for her to truly be a part of such a thing whilst she had been owned there. Or maybe it was her latest owner and his desire to be at the centre of things, to increase his business' reach and to hopefully marry a noble lady of Judea that had her always at the centre of attentions that she neither wanted nor sought.
And yet, here she was.
Looking about herself, as she straightened, Hannah felt her back crack a little with the movement and winced against the ache in her shoulders. She placed a hand on either side of her hips, her fingers stretching towards the small of her back and leaned with an elegant bow to her frame as she straightened out the tensions of labour from her muscles. Again, she rolled up the sleeves of her simlah, unable to discard it entirely for propriety's sake but needing it to rest at her elbows not her wrists. It kept falling down and she kept folding it back, the edges of the sleeves tucked into the tie at her waist.
When she was done, she bent back over and resumed her work.
As the slave girl of a man who worked with fabrics, she had been given to the Cause of removing the Grecian inhabitants from Israel and had been set the task of cleaning all of the materials that came from the homes the Judeans were systematically cleaning out. As possessions and items were taken from slaves and servants that didn't know what to do, standing awkwardly in their Grecian masters' homes, anything that was perhaps sheets for bedding or hanging shades or awnings for the sun were given to her. She then washed them within the large wooden basin she stood over, beating dust, sand and dirt from the items with the ribbed washboard beneath the suds. Once the items were clean, she then passed them to the next slave in the line who hung them on a string across the street, allowing them to dry before they would be re-appropriated by the Council House and dispensed with as they saw fit.
The items in question were never the personal possessions of the Greeks. The areas that the Grecians had taken on as their own had been houses before they arrived. And items that they could not bring from Greece had been provided for them. Such information, Hannah knew from a Grecian Commander way back when. Before her life had changed forever. A steward of the house of Azari - more than one, in fact - wandered the streets with sheets of information, recording and confirming which items were free to be taken, washed or stored and then shipped to the Council House and which were the personal effects of the Grecian tenants and needed to be carefully packed or folded or boxed ready for their return.
Hannah felt a growing unease over it all and found her eye wandering to the horizon that she could see beyond the gates of the city that currently stood open as their hollow patches were measured for reinforcement wood. If the Grecians were to turn around, to come back for some reason and witness what was happening here before the Azari were to send them the formal information... It did not bear thinking on.
Some might have called such a manoeuvre cowardly. But when the Judean cities had no military, there were limited options that could be taken at such times. This was the one that the Council of Elders had decided was the safest for all... All Judeans, at least.
The news had spread through Israel like wildfire. Hazael wasn’t even sure if the rumors were even true at first. Had the Azari really just announce that the gates to the city would be closed to the Greeks forever? Could it possibly be true that their city would soon be permanently rid of those Greecian murderers who slaughtered the Israelis in the dead of night? Would they finally be gone from Judea forever?
It just couldn’t be true, could it?
This was the question that was at the forefront of Hazael’s mind as he worked alongside his father and brothers, Tiras and Benaiah. Their father was deadset on not reacting to the news until the family knew for sure what was occurring. After all, Judeans were supposed to be above such a trivial thing as rumors. This was Avriam’s reasoning anyway, but the merchant’s son knew that there was a deeper explanation as to why he was forcing everyone to treat this as business as usual. His father was downright furious that after ten long years the Azari finally had the nerve to do what the xenophobic Israelis had been asking for years for them to do.
It was a strange thing to be enraged at. Hazael couldn’t deny that on the surface his father had no real justification to be mad like this. However, that completely ignored the fact that Avriam’s reasoning for most things did not normally lie on the surface. This was never the case for the older Israeli. The ambitious man had always had something brewing beneath his hardened gaze. Most of the time though, Hazael was not given the privilege of being privy to these hidden inclinations due to this own blundering incompetence. He could not be trusted like Tiras was. The motivations for this veiled anger was quite obvious to everyone in the family.
Even though it was a sin, Avriam coveted the seat of power that the Azari held. The man had been basing his quiet campaign of having his family replace them upon the promise that he would rid Israel of the Greecian scum. The council’s decision to do this, no matter how badly it was needed, completely knocked the wind out of his father’s sails. If this idea of the Greeks calmly collecting their things went well, it would not only put Avriam back at square one but also the man would lose the little support that he had. The Azari would steal them away on account of these backers no longer having a reason to support Avriam.
If everything went well.
Somehow Hazael couldn’t shake the gut feeling that it wouldn’t.
Perhaps he was only having his doubts on account of the tense energy that was practically radiating off of his father and brother as the hours slowly ticked by. Or at least until the feeling of anxiety and anger was so thick in the air that it could probably be cut with a knife. Hazael wished that here was a way to get the two older men to release their anger without bringing the whole shop down around them. (Though at the same time he didn’t because that method would probably entail his father and brother screaming at him.) There was little that he could do besides keeping his head down and making sure that both he and his little brother, who was only nine, stayed out of the way of the two explosive men.
This was how the family managed to get through the first hour or two before the natural curiosity that came with this unknown grew to an almost unbearable level; causing Avriam to angrily snap at Benaiah and order him to rush home, taking the route that passed by the Greek Quarter to see if anything was happening in the section of the city that was supposed to be empty. Not wanting to incur the wrath of his father, the nine-year-old had quickly scurried off, but not before Hazael was able to quietly ask the boy that if something was happening if he could bring Bracha to the shop for Haz. That way, at least, if the men were to leave the safety of the shop and right into history unfolding before all of them, Hazael would be prepared and wouldn’t be his usual klutzy self if he had his dog at his side.
The few minutes that had passed since the boy had run off had been excruciating. The seconds felt like minutes, the minutes went by as slowly as full hours as all three of the men that were still in the shop nervously glanced out the window for any sign of the nine-year-old bounding down the street. It had barely been twenty minutes before Benaiah had come bursting into the shop, proclaiming the news to be true and that the women in their family were headed to the Greek Quarter to help sort and pack the soldier’s belongings.
This was the release valve that they had needed as Tiras was quick to jump up from his seat and Avriam quickly barked out the other that Hazael was to take that ‘mange-riddled dog’ out of his shop and go to the temple to collect Jorah while the others would head to the gates. There Avriam was expecting a crowd to form in reaction to the news and the older man wanted to be right in the thick of it. Never one to question his father’s orders, Hazael was quick to lead up and head out the door in a flash as well, only pausing for a moment to collect the leash from his brother. Once this was in hand, Hazael was quick to head in the direction of the temple where his brother would be studying with the rabbis like he always did.
In many ways, Hazael was jealous that his brother had such an easy way to escape the chaos of their family by hiding away in the temple. Not only did it get Jorah out of the house, but it also kept him safe from their father’s ire as the path of a religious leader was a well-respected one. Hazael didn’t have the same luxury, Even though Hazael’s pastimes were more profitable than Jorah’s, his father thought that the whole dog raising thing was a stupid waste of time and resources. This meant that more often than not he was often looked down upon for this love of his and was treated as the family buffoon as he apparently didn’t have the common sense to have more practical interests. What wouldn’t he give for his family to look upon his interests within the same light that they did for Jorah?
It took the boy almost no time at all to reach the temple, which was almost bursting with activity after such an announcement. seeing this many people milling about, waiting for some sort of direction for what they could do, made Hazael nervous. The boy had planned to leave Bracha outside, but that didn’t seem to be the safest option If anyone was so inclined, the chaos could be the perfect opportunity to take Bracha, and Hazael had already lost her once before. He didn’t want to let that happen again. So, he hovered worriedly outside the doors, asking anyone who went inside to send Jorah out for him.
Luckily, he did not need to wait long as he saw a blur of pale skin and dark appear from the interior of the religious house. Even though the dog handler was practically blind and could barely pick out one different person from the next in this crowd; he could recognize the colorful smear of his brother anywhere.
“Jorah” Hazael shouted, calling out to the boy as he hurried over to him with Bracha trotting at his heels, “I’m guessing you heard, it’s finally happening!” Being outside of the presence of Tiras and Avriam now meant that he didn’t need to hide how he really felt about this turn of events. His family might be irked at the decision, but Hazael welcomed it with open arms as it meant that peace could finally come to Israel… if all went well, of course.
That was still a very big if given that it was likely that the Taengeans would not take kindly to the news and they were quite the formidable fighting force while the Judeans were not.
However, there was something that could be dealt with at a later time as the boys to make a decision-- or more accurately, Jorah had to make. “Father took Tiras and Benaiah to the gates, but the girls are headed to the Greek Quarter to help gather up their belongings.” Hazael already knew what he wanted to do in order to respond to this news, but there was no way that their father would react kindly to his choice if he found out that it had been Hazael who suggested that they took what Avriam would clearly see as a cowardly option. However, if it was Jorah who suggested in on religious grounds… well, surely Avriam wouldn’t be mad that the boys had quietly put as much distance between themselves and the irate man as possible…
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The news had spread through Israel like wildfire. Hazael wasn’t even sure if the rumors were even true at first. Had the Azari really just announce that the gates to the city would be closed to the Greeks forever? Could it possibly be true that their city would soon be permanently rid of those Greecian murderers who slaughtered the Israelis in the dead of night? Would they finally be gone from Judea forever?
It just couldn’t be true, could it?
This was the question that was at the forefront of Hazael’s mind as he worked alongside his father and brothers, Tiras and Benaiah. Their father was deadset on not reacting to the news until the family knew for sure what was occurring. After all, Judeans were supposed to be above such a trivial thing as rumors. This was Avriam’s reasoning anyway, but the merchant’s son knew that there was a deeper explanation as to why he was forcing everyone to treat this as business as usual. His father was downright furious that after ten long years the Azari finally had the nerve to do what the xenophobic Israelis had been asking for years for them to do.
It was a strange thing to be enraged at. Hazael couldn’t deny that on the surface his father had no real justification to be mad like this. However, that completely ignored the fact that Avriam’s reasoning for most things did not normally lie on the surface. This was never the case for the older Israeli. The ambitious man had always had something brewing beneath his hardened gaze. Most of the time though, Hazael was not given the privilege of being privy to these hidden inclinations due to this own blundering incompetence. He could not be trusted like Tiras was. The motivations for this veiled anger was quite obvious to everyone in the family.
Even though it was a sin, Avriam coveted the seat of power that the Azari held. The man had been basing his quiet campaign of having his family replace them upon the promise that he would rid Israel of the Greecian scum. The council’s decision to do this, no matter how badly it was needed, completely knocked the wind out of his father’s sails. If this idea of the Greeks calmly collecting their things went well, it would not only put Avriam back at square one but also the man would lose the little support that he had. The Azari would steal them away on account of these backers no longer having a reason to support Avriam.
If everything went well.
Somehow Hazael couldn’t shake the gut feeling that it wouldn’t.
Perhaps he was only having his doubts on account of the tense energy that was practically radiating off of his father and brother as the hours slowly ticked by. Or at least until the feeling of anxiety and anger was so thick in the air that it could probably be cut with a knife. Hazael wished that here was a way to get the two older men to release their anger without bringing the whole shop down around them. (Though at the same time he didn’t because that method would probably entail his father and brother screaming at him.) There was little that he could do besides keeping his head down and making sure that both he and his little brother, who was only nine, stayed out of the way of the two explosive men.
This was how the family managed to get through the first hour or two before the natural curiosity that came with this unknown grew to an almost unbearable level; causing Avriam to angrily snap at Benaiah and order him to rush home, taking the route that passed by the Greek Quarter to see if anything was happening in the section of the city that was supposed to be empty. Not wanting to incur the wrath of his father, the nine-year-old had quickly scurried off, but not before Hazael was able to quietly ask the boy that if something was happening if he could bring Bracha to the shop for Haz. That way, at least, if the men were to leave the safety of the shop and right into history unfolding before all of them, Hazael would be prepared and wouldn’t be his usual klutzy self if he had his dog at his side.
The few minutes that had passed since the boy had run off had been excruciating. The seconds felt like minutes, the minutes went by as slowly as full hours as all three of the men that were still in the shop nervously glanced out the window for any sign of the nine-year-old bounding down the street. It had barely been twenty minutes before Benaiah had come bursting into the shop, proclaiming the news to be true and that the women in their family were headed to the Greek Quarter to help sort and pack the soldier’s belongings.
This was the release valve that they had needed as Tiras was quick to jump up from his seat and Avriam quickly barked out the other that Hazael was to take that ‘mange-riddled dog’ out of his shop and go to the temple to collect Jorah while the others would head to the gates. There Avriam was expecting a crowd to form in reaction to the news and the older man wanted to be right in the thick of it. Never one to question his father’s orders, Hazael was quick to lead up and head out the door in a flash as well, only pausing for a moment to collect the leash from his brother. Once this was in hand, Hazael was quick to head in the direction of the temple where his brother would be studying with the rabbis like he always did.
In many ways, Hazael was jealous that his brother had such an easy way to escape the chaos of their family by hiding away in the temple. Not only did it get Jorah out of the house, but it also kept him safe from their father’s ire as the path of a religious leader was a well-respected one. Hazael didn’t have the same luxury, Even though Hazael’s pastimes were more profitable than Jorah’s, his father thought that the whole dog raising thing was a stupid waste of time and resources. This meant that more often than not he was often looked down upon for this love of his and was treated as the family buffoon as he apparently didn’t have the common sense to have more practical interests. What wouldn’t he give for his family to look upon his interests within the same light that they did for Jorah?
It took the boy almost no time at all to reach the temple, which was almost bursting with activity after such an announcement. seeing this many people milling about, waiting for some sort of direction for what they could do, made Hazael nervous. The boy had planned to leave Bracha outside, but that didn’t seem to be the safest option If anyone was so inclined, the chaos could be the perfect opportunity to take Bracha, and Hazael had already lost her once before. He didn’t want to let that happen again. So, he hovered worriedly outside the doors, asking anyone who went inside to send Jorah out for him.
Luckily, he did not need to wait long as he saw a blur of pale skin and dark appear from the interior of the religious house. Even though the dog handler was practically blind and could barely pick out one different person from the next in this crowd; he could recognize the colorful smear of his brother anywhere.
“Jorah” Hazael shouted, calling out to the boy as he hurried over to him with Bracha trotting at his heels, “I’m guessing you heard, it’s finally happening!” Being outside of the presence of Tiras and Avriam now meant that he didn’t need to hide how he really felt about this turn of events. His family might be irked at the decision, but Hazael welcomed it with open arms as it meant that peace could finally come to Israel… if all went well, of course.
That was still a very big if given that it was likely that the Taengeans would not take kindly to the news and they were quite the formidable fighting force while the Judeans were not.
However, there was something that could be dealt with at a later time as the boys to make a decision-- or more accurately, Jorah had to make. “Father took Tiras and Benaiah to the gates, but the girls are headed to the Greek Quarter to help gather up their belongings.” Hazael already knew what he wanted to do in order to respond to this news, but there was no way that their father would react kindly to his choice if he found out that it had been Hazael who suggested that they took what Avriam would clearly see as a cowardly option. However, if it was Jorah who suggested in on religious grounds… well, surely Avriam wouldn’t be mad that the boys had quietly put as much distance between themselves and the irate man as possible…
The news had spread through Israel like wildfire. Hazael wasn’t even sure if the rumors were even true at first. Had the Azari really just announce that the gates to the city would be closed to the Greeks forever? Could it possibly be true that their city would soon be permanently rid of those Greecian murderers who slaughtered the Israelis in the dead of night? Would they finally be gone from Judea forever?
It just couldn’t be true, could it?
This was the question that was at the forefront of Hazael’s mind as he worked alongside his father and brothers, Tiras and Benaiah. Their father was deadset on not reacting to the news until the family knew for sure what was occurring. After all, Judeans were supposed to be above such a trivial thing as rumors. This was Avriam’s reasoning anyway, but the merchant’s son knew that there was a deeper explanation as to why he was forcing everyone to treat this as business as usual. His father was downright furious that after ten long years the Azari finally had the nerve to do what the xenophobic Israelis had been asking for years for them to do.
It was a strange thing to be enraged at. Hazael couldn’t deny that on the surface his father had no real justification to be mad like this. However, that completely ignored the fact that Avriam’s reasoning for most things did not normally lie on the surface. This was never the case for the older Israeli. The ambitious man had always had something brewing beneath his hardened gaze. Most of the time though, Hazael was not given the privilege of being privy to these hidden inclinations due to this own blundering incompetence. He could not be trusted like Tiras was. The motivations for this veiled anger was quite obvious to everyone in the family.
Even though it was a sin, Avriam coveted the seat of power that the Azari held. The man had been basing his quiet campaign of having his family replace them upon the promise that he would rid Israel of the Greecian scum. The council’s decision to do this, no matter how badly it was needed, completely knocked the wind out of his father’s sails. If this idea of the Greeks calmly collecting their things went well, it would not only put Avriam back at square one but also the man would lose the little support that he had. The Azari would steal them away on account of these backers no longer having a reason to support Avriam.
If everything went well.
Somehow Hazael couldn’t shake the gut feeling that it wouldn’t.
Perhaps he was only having his doubts on account of the tense energy that was practically radiating off of his father and brother as the hours slowly ticked by. Or at least until the feeling of anxiety and anger was so thick in the air that it could probably be cut with a knife. Hazael wished that here was a way to get the two older men to release their anger without bringing the whole shop down around them. (Though at the same time he didn’t because that method would probably entail his father and brother screaming at him.) There was little that he could do besides keeping his head down and making sure that both he and his little brother, who was only nine, stayed out of the way of the two explosive men.
This was how the family managed to get through the first hour or two before the natural curiosity that came with this unknown grew to an almost unbearable level; causing Avriam to angrily snap at Benaiah and order him to rush home, taking the route that passed by the Greek Quarter to see if anything was happening in the section of the city that was supposed to be empty. Not wanting to incur the wrath of his father, the nine-year-old had quickly scurried off, but not before Hazael was able to quietly ask the boy that if something was happening if he could bring Bracha to the shop for Haz. That way, at least, if the men were to leave the safety of the shop and right into history unfolding before all of them, Hazael would be prepared and wouldn’t be his usual klutzy self if he had his dog at his side.
The few minutes that had passed since the boy had run off had been excruciating. The seconds felt like minutes, the minutes went by as slowly as full hours as all three of the men that were still in the shop nervously glanced out the window for any sign of the nine-year-old bounding down the street. It had barely been twenty minutes before Benaiah had come bursting into the shop, proclaiming the news to be true and that the women in their family were headed to the Greek Quarter to help sort and pack the soldier’s belongings.
This was the release valve that they had needed as Tiras was quick to jump up from his seat and Avriam quickly barked out the other that Hazael was to take that ‘mange-riddled dog’ out of his shop and go to the temple to collect Jorah while the others would head to the gates. There Avriam was expecting a crowd to form in reaction to the news and the older man wanted to be right in the thick of it. Never one to question his father’s orders, Hazael was quick to lead up and head out the door in a flash as well, only pausing for a moment to collect the leash from his brother. Once this was in hand, Hazael was quick to head in the direction of the temple where his brother would be studying with the rabbis like he always did.
In many ways, Hazael was jealous that his brother had such an easy way to escape the chaos of their family by hiding away in the temple. Not only did it get Jorah out of the house, but it also kept him safe from their father’s ire as the path of a religious leader was a well-respected one. Hazael didn’t have the same luxury, Even though Hazael’s pastimes were more profitable than Jorah’s, his father thought that the whole dog raising thing was a stupid waste of time and resources. This meant that more often than not he was often looked down upon for this love of his and was treated as the family buffoon as he apparently didn’t have the common sense to have more practical interests. What wouldn’t he give for his family to look upon his interests within the same light that they did for Jorah?
It took the boy almost no time at all to reach the temple, which was almost bursting with activity after such an announcement. seeing this many people milling about, waiting for some sort of direction for what they could do, made Hazael nervous. The boy had planned to leave Bracha outside, but that didn’t seem to be the safest option If anyone was so inclined, the chaos could be the perfect opportunity to take Bracha, and Hazael had already lost her once before. He didn’t want to let that happen again. So, he hovered worriedly outside the doors, asking anyone who went inside to send Jorah out for him.
Luckily, he did not need to wait long as he saw a blur of pale skin and dark appear from the interior of the religious house. Even though the dog handler was practically blind and could barely pick out one different person from the next in this crowd; he could recognize the colorful smear of his brother anywhere.
“Jorah” Hazael shouted, calling out to the boy as he hurried over to him with Bracha trotting at his heels, “I’m guessing you heard, it’s finally happening!” Being outside of the presence of Tiras and Avriam now meant that he didn’t need to hide how he really felt about this turn of events. His family might be irked at the decision, but Hazael welcomed it with open arms as it meant that peace could finally come to Israel… if all went well, of course.
That was still a very big if given that it was likely that the Taengeans would not take kindly to the news and they were quite the formidable fighting force while the Judeans were not.
However, there was something that could be dealt with at a later time as the boys to make a decision-- or more accurately, Jorah had to make. “Father took Tiras and Benaiah to the gates, but the girls are headed to the Greek Quarter to help gather up their belongings.” Hazael already knew what he wanted to do in order to respond to this news, but there was no way that their father would react kindly to his choice if he found out that it had been Hazael who suggested that they took what Avriam would clearly see as a cowardly option. However, if it was Jorah who suggested in on religious grounds… well, surely Avriam wouldn’t be mad that the boys had quietly put as much distance between themselves and the irate man as possible…
Thaddeus didn’t like war, and he also didn’t like foreigners gathering in large numbers in his kingdom. Amiti was more into politics, and perhaps even Shiloh knew more then he did. Even so, the dark-haired man still found out about the gates. At first, he didn’t believe it, having assumed the greeks would be there for much longer. That was the way it had seemed to Thaddeus, as no one seemed to like his ideas about throwing them out entirely. They didn’t need to greeks. He simply didn’t want them around. So the idea that they could be gone excited Thaddeus, and made him want to see for himself. Thaddeus arrived in Israel with his older brother Amiti, curious and interested in seeing if the gates had really closed.
Thaddeus arrived near Temple and glanced around. Thad noticed a familiar slave- one that he wasn’t about to talk to. He barely wanted to be around her, and he avoided the whole area. He wasn’t interested at all, because of what had happened before. He just didn’t trust Hannah. Instead, he tried to see if he saw others he knew, and eventually caught Hazael. Maybe he knew more? He saw the other with a dog - which excited him even more. Amiti didn’t have the same interests that Thaddeus did when it came to animals, but for Thad they were lovely. The man hurried over to the other, happy to see him. “Hazael!” He called over, glancing at his brother. “He’s the one I told you about! I saved his dogs once from sinners.” He explained, before moving to go talk to Haz. “It’s been so long!” Not quite long, but he hadn’t seen him nonetheless. “How have you been, friend?” He asked, not wasting any time at all. He remembered when he had helped the other with his dogs, and Thaddeus moved closer, interested in having a conversation. This was the perfect time to catch up.
He glanced down at his dog, smiling. “Has what I’ve been hearing true? Are the greeks really leaving?” He asked, hoping maybe Hazael knew more then he did. “Are they leaving for good? Never coming back?” He hoped so. He didn’t want them to come back. They didn’t add anything to Israel anyways. Thaddeus wasn’t political, but he wasn’t keen on foreigners he didn’t trust. He looked over at Hazael, and gave him a smile. “Are you here to watch, too?” He asked, wondering if they would be able to talk more, or if Hazael was busy. He glanced over to where Amiti was. “Did I ever introduce you to my older brother, Hazael? His name is Amiti.”
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Thaddeus didn’t like war, and he also didn’t like foreigners gathering in large numbers in his kingdom. Amiti was more into politics, and perhaps even Shiloh knew more then he did. Even so, the dark-haired man still found out about the gates. At first, he didn’t believe it, having assumed the greeks would be there for much longer. That was the way it had seemed to Thaddeus, as no one seemed to like his ideas about throwing them out entirely. They didn’t need to greeks. He simply didn’t want them around. So the idea that they could be gone excited Thaddeus, and made him want to see for himself. Thaddeus arrived in Israel with his older brother Amiti, curious and interested in seeing if the gates had really closed.
Thaddeus arrived near Temple and glanced around. Thad noticed a familiar slave- one that he wasn’t about to talk to. He barely wanted to be around her, and he avoided the whole area. He wasn’t interested at all, because of what had happened before. He just didn’t trust Hannah. Instead, he tried to see if he saw others he knew, and eventually caught Hazael. Maybe he knew more? He saw the other with a dog - which excited him even more. Amiti didn’t have the same interests that Thaddeus did when it came to animals, but for Thad they were lovely. The man hurried over to the other, happy to see him. “Hazael!” He called over, glancing at his brother. “He’s the one I told you about! I saved his dogs once from sinners.” He explained, before moving to go talk to Haz. “It’s been so long!” Not quite long, but he hadn’t seen him nonetheless. “How have you been, friend?” He asked, not wasting any time at all. He remembered when he had helped the other with his dogs, and Thaddeus moved closer, interested in having a conversation. This was the perfect time to catch up.
He glanced down at his dog, smiling. “Has what I’ve been hearing true? Are the greeks really leaving?” He asked, hoping maybe Hazael knew more then he did. “Are they leaving for good? Never coming back?” He hoped so. He didn’t want them to come back. They didn’t add anything to Israel anyways. Thaddeus wasn’t political, but he wasn’t keen on foreigners he didn’t trust. He looked over at Hazael, and gave him a smile. “Are you here to watch, too?” He asked, wondering if they would be able to talk more, or if Hazael was busy. He glanced over to where Amiti was. “Did I ever introduce you to my older brother, Hazael? His name is Amiti.”
Thaddeus didn’t like war, and he also didn’t like foreigners gathering in large numbers in his kingdom. Amiti was more into politics, and perhaps even Shiloh knew more then he did. Even so, the dark-haired man still found out about the gates. At first, he didn’t believe it, having assumed the greeks would be there for much longer. That was the way it had seemed to Thaddeus, as no one seemed to like his ideas about throwing them out entirely. They didn’t need to greeks. He simply didn’t want them around. So the idea that they could be gone excited Thaddeus, and made him want to see for himself. Thaddeus arrived in Israel with his older brother Amiti, curious and interested in seeing if the gates had really closed.
Thaddeus arrived near Temple and glanced around. Thad noticed a familiar slave- one that he wasn’t about to talk to. He barely wanted to be around her, and he avoided the whole area. He wasn’t interested at all, because of what had happened before. He just didn’t trust Hannah. Instead, he tried to see if he saw others he knew, and eventually caught Hazael. Maybe he knew more? He saw the other with a dog - which excited him even more. Amiti didn’t have the same interests that Thaddeus did when it came to animals, but for Thad they were lovely. The man hurried over to the other, happy to see him. “Hazael!” He called over, glancing at his brother. “He’s the one I told you about! I saved his dogs once from sinners.” He explained, before moving to go talk to Haz. “It’s been so long!” Not quite long, but he hadn’t seen him nonetheless. “How have you been, friend?” He asked, not wasting any time at all. He remembered when he had helped the other with his dogs, and Thaddeus moved closer, interested in having a conversation. This was the perfect time to catch up.
He glanced down at his dog, smiling. “Has what I’ve been hearing true? Are the greeks really leaving?” He asked, hoping maybe Hazael knew more then he did. “Are they leaving for good? Never coming back?” He hoped so. He didn’t want them to come back. They didn’t add anything to Israel anyways. Thaddeus wasn’t political, but he wasn’t keen on foreigners he didn’t trust. He looked over at Hazael, and gave him a smile. “Are you here to watch, too?” He asked, wondering if they would be able to talk more, or if Hazael was busy. He glanced over to where Amiti was. “Did I ever introduce you to my older brother, Hazael? His name is Amiti.”
Because of the last council meeting, Amiti had certainly known this was coming. It didn’t make him any less curious or less grim as he traveled the long miles with Thaddeus into Israel. The journey was a hurried one and as they approached the temple, they were still in their traveling clothes. Amiti had been dusting both himself and Thaddeus off the entire way and he’d just gotten the last patch of dust off his brother’s robe when Thaddeus stifferened and eyed a servant across the way. Amiti glanced at her but had no recollection of her at all from when he’d seen her last. She was a servant and he’d never gotten a clear look at her. He did frown at her and then at Thaddeus, but realized that Thaddeus probably had some correct information about her that Amiti did not. Perhaps she was immoral. That was likely. Considering. This, however, was tempered by the fact that Thaddeus moved on so quickly and Amiti realized that the servant was probably not offensive on the moral grounds so much as the foreign ones. He could see now that she was Greek, though obviously converted. The corners of his mouth tightened and he looked away to where Thaddeus had bounded across the courtyard to speak to a young man, common by the looks of it.
Hands behind his back, Amiti drifted along in an unhurried manner, paying less attention to Thaddeus and the boy and more attention to his surroundings. He had no love for the Greeks, that was certain. But he was less convinced this was the correct move, politically. Simeon was sure, in any case and the decision was made. There was no turning back from it now, though Amiti was positive that this would not go over well when the soldiers came back. They’d brought Gwyn with them in order to help and Amiti gestured to her, pointing towards Hannah.
“Gwyn, go ask her what’s being done and lend assistance. I don’t want us to be seen not lending aid to this foolishness.”
That was the problem with this whole thing for Amiti: he regarded it as foolish but, for appearances sake, they needed to be part of it. He seriously doubted that if there were repercussions, the Greeks would stop as he vainly claimed that his family were one of the ones who’d voted ‘no’. That being the case, it was better to be on his own people’s side and Gwyn could help with that. Amiti’s mere presence was his physical contribution. It would be unseemly for a councilman to dirty himself with this business.
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Because of the last council meeting, Amiti had certainly known this was coming. It didn’t make him any less curious or less grim as he traveled the long miles with Thaddeus into Israel. The journey was a hurried one and as they approached the temple, they were still in their traveling clothes. Amiti had been dusting both himself and Thaddeus off the entire way and he’d just gotten the last patch of dust off his brother’s robe when Thaddeus stifferened and eyed a servant across the way. Amiti glanced at her but had no recollection of her at all from when he’d seen her last. She was a servant and he’d never gotten a clear look at her. He did frown at her and then at Thaddeus, but realized that Thaddeus probably had some correct information about her that Amiti did not. Perhaps she was immoral. That was likely. Considering. This, however, was tempered by the fact that Thaddeus moved on so quickly and Amiti realized that the servant was probably not offensive on the moral grounds so much as the foreign ones. He could see now that she was Greek, though obviously converted. The corners of his mouth tightened and he looked away to where Thaddeus had bounded across the courtyard to speak to a young man, common by the looks of it.
Hands behind his back, Amiti drifted along in an unhurried manner, paying less attention to Thaddeus and the boy and more attention to his surroundings. He had no love for the Greeks, that was certain. But he was less convinced this was the correct move, politically. Simeon was sure, in any case and the decision was made. There was no turning back from it now, though Amiti was positive that this would not go over well when the soldiers came back. They’d brought Gwyn with them in order to help and Amiti gestured to her, pointing towards Hannah.
“Gwyn, go ask her what’s being done and lend assistance. I don’t want us to be seen not lending aid to this foolishness.”
That was the problem with this whole thing for Amiti: he regarded it as foolish but, for appearances sake, they needed to be part of it. He seriously doubted that if there were repercussions, the Greeks would stop as he vainly claimed that his family were one of the ones who’d voted ‘no’. That being the case, it was better to be on his own people’s side and Gwyn could help with that. Amiti’s mere presence was his physical contribution. It would be unseemly for a councilman to dirty himself with this business.
Because of the last council meeting, Amiti had certainly known this was coming. It didn’t make him any less curious or less grim as he traveled the long miles with Thaddeus into Israel. The journey was a hurried one and as they approached the temple, they were still in their traveling clothes. Amiti had been dusting both himself and Thaddeus off the entire way and he’d just gotten the last patch of dust off his brother’s robe when Thaddeus stifferened and eyed a servant across the way. Amiti glanced at her but had no recollection of her at all from when he’d seen her last. She was a servant and he’d never gotten a clear look at her. He did frown at her and then at Thaddeus, but realized that Thaddeus probably had some correct information about her that Amiti did not. Perhaps she was immoral. That was likely. Considering. This, however, was tempered by the fact that Thaddeus moved on so quickly and Amiti realized that the servant was probably not offensive on the moral grounds so much as the foreign ones. He could see now that she was Greek, though obviously converted. The corners of his mouth tightened and he looked away to where Thaddeus had bounded across the courtyard to speak to a young man, common by the looks of it.
Hands behind his back, Amiti drifted along in an unhurried manner, paying less attention to Thaddeus and the boy and more attention to his surroundings. He had no love for the Greeks, that was certain. But he was less convinced this was the correct move, politically. Simeon was sure, in any case and the decision was made. There was no turning back from it now, though Amiti was positive that this would not go over well when the soldiers came back. They’d brought Gwyn with them in order to help and Amiti gestured to her, pointing towards Hannah.
“Gwyn, go ask her what’s being done and lend assistance. I don’t want us to be seen not lending aid to this foolishness.”
That was the problem with this whole thing for Amiti: he regarded it as foolish but, for appearances sake, they needed to be part of it. He seriously doubted that if there were repercussions, the Greeks would stop as he vainly claimed that his family were one of the ones who’d voted ‘no’. That being the case, it was better to be on his own people’s side and Gwyn could help with that. Amiti’s mere presence was his physical contribution. It would be unseemly for a councilman to dirty himself with this business.
Being the daughter of a merchant meant Gwyneth had largely managed to stay out of large occurences such as this for a large part of her life. There had never been a need for her to be at the forefront of things like that. And she had been a tiny girl when the Grecian forces had first arrived and set up camp on the borders of Judea. All of that meant she had grown up pretty much assuming foreign soldiers from Greece loitering around in occasional in Damascus was normal as they travelled over from Israel.
This being her first ever experience with such outward demonstrations of feelings by her own brethren meant Gwyneth was feeling quite surprised with everything. Tasked to follow her employer's family meant she had little choice in the matter. Caught up in ensuring everything was ready for the two men who travelled to Israel on the duty, Gwyneth had little time to dwell on what awaited them once they arrived, but now that she was presented with the scene itself... well, how could you deny it when it was right in front of you?
The temple was bursting with activity once they arrived, the annoucement having roused many people it seems. They were not the only ones who had travelled to Israel upon the news, for others from the remainder of the cities in Judea seemed to be present as well. Did she have any particular feelings about this? Not entirely. Unlike how agitated some of the people in attendance seem to be, be it overjoyed or anxious, Gwyneth had kept herself blissfully apart from all of this in her years growing up. She found it funny, that despite Judeans keeping to themselves and being very private as their nature, yet now they all seemed to congregate to watch the leaving of the Grecian troops. In joy? In sadness? Who knows. But they didn't look too sad as they packed up the belongings of the Grecians under the instruction of their leaders.
Distracted as she was, the brunette started a little when Amiti suddenly called her name. Turning only to notice Thaddeus had left to greet a friend, Gwyneth's attention was quickly reverted back to Amiti and his instructions. Dutifully, the servant dipped into her shallow curtsy as acknowledgement of her employer's commands, and left before the younger of tthe two returned to approach a fair-skinned servant who seemed to be busy washing whatever bedding or sheets passed to her by other's, making her presence known before asking. "My employer, Amiti of Tzephaniah has sent me over to assist. Is there anywhere I could be of help?" she murmured, ensuring to display the fact that it was the house of one of the Elders she came from. It wouldn't do well for her employer's to be displeased of her behavior afterall. Gwyneth already felt as if she was treading on eggshells after coming so close to being caught by Amiti the other day.
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Being the daughter of a merchant meant Gwyneth had largely managed to stay out of large occurences such as this for a large part of her life. There had never been a need for her to be at the forefront of things like that. And she had been a tiny girl when the Grecian forces had first arrived and set up camp on the borders of Judea. All of that meant she had grown up pretty much assuming foreign soldiers from Greece loitering around in occasional in Damascus was normal as they travelled over from Israel.
This being her first ever experience with such outward demonstrations of feelings by her own brethren meant Gwyneth was feeling quite surprised with everything. Tasked to follow her employer's family meant she had little choice in the matter. Caught up in ensuring everything was ready for the two men who travelled to Israel on the duty, Gwyneth had little time to dwell on what awaited them once they arrived, but now that she was presented with the scene itself... well, how could you deny it when it was right in front of you?
The temple was bursting with activity once they arrived, the annoucement having roused many people it seems. They were not the only ones who had travelled to Israel upon the news, for others from the remainder of the cities in Judea seemed to be present as well. Did she have any particular feelings about this? Not entirely. Unlike how agitated some of the people in attendance seem to be, be it overjoyed or anxious, Gwyneth had kept herself blissfully apart from all of this in her years growing up. She found it funny, that despite Judeans keeping to themselves and being very private as their nature, yet now they all seemed to congregate to watch the leaving of the Grecian troops. In joy? In sadness? Who knows. But they didn't look too sad as they packed up the belongings of the Grecians under the instruction of their leaders.
Distracted as she was, the brunette started a little when Amiti suddenly called her name. Turning only to notice Thaddeus had left to greet a friend, Gwyneth's attention was quickly reverted back to Amiti and his instructions. Dutifully, the servant dipped into her shallow curtsy as acknowledgement of her employer's commands, and left before the younger of tthe two returned to approach a fair-skinned servant who seemed to be busy washing whatever bedding or sheets passed to her by other's, making her presence known before asking. "My employer, Amiti of Tzephaniah has sent me over to assist. Is there anywhere I could be of help?" she murmured, ensuring to display the fact that it was the house of one of the Elders she came from. It wouldn't do well for her employer's to be displeased of her behavior afterall. Gwyneth already felt as if she was treading on eggshells after coming so close to being caught by Amiti the other day.
Being the daughter of a merchant meant Gwyneth had largely managed to stay out of large occurences such as this for a large part of her life. There had never been a need for her to be at the forefront of things like that. And she had been a tiny girl when the Grecian forces had first arrived and set up camp on the borders of Judea. All of that meant she had grown up pretty much assuming foreign soldiers from Greece loitering around in occasional in Damascus was normal as they travelled over from Israel.
This being her first ever experience with such outward demonstrations of feelings by her own brethren meant Gwyneth was feeling quite surprised with everything. Tasked to follow her employer's family meant she had little choice in the matter. Caught up in ensuring everything was ready for the two men who travelled to Israel on the duty, Gwyneth had little time to dwell on what awaited them once they arrived, but now that she was presented with the scene itself... well, how could you deny it when it was right in front of you?
The temple was bursting with activity once they arrived, the annoucement having roused many people it seems. They were not the only ones who had travelled to Israel upon the news, for others from the remainder of the cities in Judea seemed to be present as well. Did she have any particular feelings about this? Not entirely. Unlike how agitated some of the people in attendance seem to be, be it overjoyed or anxious, Gwyneth had kept herself blissfully apart from all of this in her years growing up. She found it funny, that despite Judeans keeping to themselves and being very private as their nature, yet now they all seemed to congregate to watch the leaving of the Grecian troops. In joy? In sadness? Who knows. But they didn't look too sad as they packed up the belongings of the Grecians under the instruction of their leaders.
Distracted as she was, the brunette started a little when Amiti suddenly called her name. Turning only to notice Thaddeus had left to greet a friend, Gwyneth's attention was quickly reverted back to Amiti and his instructions. Dutifully, the servant dipped into her shallow curtsy as acknowledgement of her employer's commands, and left before the younger of tthe two returned to approach a fair-skinned servant who seemed to be busy washing whatever bedding or sheets passed to her by other's, making her presence known before asking. "My employer, Amiti of Tzephaniah has sent me over to assist. Is there anywhere I could be of help?" she murmured, ensuring to display the fact that it was the house of one of the Elders she came from. It wouldn't do well for her employer's to be displeased of her behavior afterall. Gwyneth already felt as if she was treading on eggshells after coming so close to being caught by Amiti the other day.
As Hazael waited for Jorah to make a decision over what the boys would do, he was pleasantly surprised to hear a somewhat familiar voice. This confusion he felt was absolutely nothing compared to what he felt when he turned around and saw the familiar blob that was Thaddeus of Tzephaniah headed right for him.
A wide grin spread across his face when he realized that this was not some trick of the light and the other man was actually in front of him. He had not seen Thaddeus after the incident in Damascus and quite frankly, Haz was fairly certain that he would never see the other man again after the two had parted ways. That was just the nature of these sorts of things as Haz had been a traveling merchant on the road, only passing through the city that the other man called home. He had met countless people on these trips and his own wretched condition practically guaranteed that Hazael would never cross paths with those people again. So, clearly this was a pleasant surprise, especially as it was thanks to Thaddeus that the boy still had Bracha by his side.
This alone was what probably inspired the warm greeting that Hazael gave the nobleman as he approached. “Thaddeus? What are you doing down south?” Surely, his brother would have been surprised by the wide grin on the boy’s face and the light, airy laugh that escaped him as he loosened his grip on Bracha’s lead, allowing the dog to greet her rescuer. The blonde Saluki tried to jump up on poor Thaddeus, clearly happy to see the Jaffe boy if her rapidly wagging tail was anything to go by. Hazael tried to pull her back but gave up quickly as not only was Bracha not doing any harm, but Thaddeus clearly had a soft spot for hounds. Haz was almost disappointed that the boy had refused his offer to take one of the pups as the man before he was one of the few souls that had a genuinely kind heart.
Though he was very confused as to why the other man was here in Israel (as Haz did not know that Thaddeus was a member of one of the Manheegs) he could take a bit of a wild guess. Rumors had been swirling for a while in Israel that this would be happening, surely such whispers would have reached the northern cities as well. However, Hazael wasn’t going to question it too deeply. After all, clearly Yahweh had a reason to bring these two boys back together again. Who was Haz to question it?
Instead, as he allowed Bracha and Thaddeus to have their own reunion, Haz quickly turned to his own brother and offered a quick explanation as to who Thaddeus was and the good he had done. Being a young man of few words, he was able to quickly get the information across as the dog finally came back to Hazael’s side. Once the Saluki was finally settling down a bit, the boy turned back to the questions that were quickly pouring out of Thaddeus’s mouth. Given his quiet nature, Haz didn’t have the faintest idea how the Dasmascian was able to say so much, so quickly, but luckily Haz was able to sum up his own answers rather succinctly with a small grin spreading across his face.
“I have been well. You?” He started to say, answering the first bit of Thaddeus’s questioning that seemed to be separate from everything else that came afterward. This was understandable given that the topic on Thaddeus’s mind was the news that the Greeks were leaving Judea once and for all. Which was understandable given that they had been here for over ten years. It was quite shocking to hear that they would be quickly kicked out and never be allowed to return. “I hope so. Those filthy mongrels will try to come back in no doubt, but I doubt a single Israeli would let them.” His words were harsh and likely was the first insight that Thaddeus would have had thus far to the fact that Haz held less than savory views on those who came from outside the walls of Judea. Even though the hatred Haz had in his heart for the Greeks might not have been as strong as his father’s or older brother’s, it was still present and might be a bit of a nasty shock to Thaddeus. Perhaps if Hazael had been raised in a different household or in a different city like the man across from him had, Haz would have a different opinion. The nineteen-year-old hadn’t though and just like everyone else in this city, he had grown tired of watching the people that formed his community be slaughtered by the Greeks, one by one. It was long past time that the people of Israel said that enough was enough.
However, he knew that the Greeks were not nearly as honorable as the Judeans. It was incredibly unlikely that the Taengeans would leave without a fight and secretly Hazael was fearing the bloodshed that would stem from this. That wasn’t likely to affect them at the temples though, thank Yahweh.
Hazael was able to push these thoughts from his mind as Thaddeus turned and attempted to point out another man in the sea of people. The boy tried to follow where Thaddeus was attempting to call his attention too, but it was a fruitless effort. After all, Hazael was practically blind. He could barely see the details of Thaddeus as his skin almost blended into the dark, sandy stones that made up the temple. There was no way that Hazael was going to be able to pick out one man in a large crowd. Assuming that Thaddeus had simply forgotten, Hazael was kind enough to not draw attention to the blunder and instead pretend that everything was normal by responding, “No, I don’t think so. Where is he? I cannot see from here.” Hazael gave a small shrug as well as he tried to play off his own disability. After all, he did not want to cause Thaddeus any embarrassment as he was in the other man’s debt for doing what Hazael could not by going after Bracha and his other dogs when they had been stolen from him.
From here, Hazael fully expected that the decision over whether to help or not would be delayed as Thaddeus brought the two boys over to greet Amiti. However, that wasn’t exactly how things went. Not when Bracha had accidentally mistaken Hazael’s question to Thaddeus as a command to find Thaddeus’s brother. After all, Bracha had been tasked with tracking things down like this countless times before and her unique position as Hazael’s eyes had taught her long ago to pay attention to the other clues surrounding her to see what Hazael wanted. Given that she had no impairment, the dog was easily able to find the man in the crowd as he seemed to actually be a bit separate from the commotion. All it took was one gentle pat from Hazael to have the dog to mistakenly think that she had been given a proper command. Never being one to disappoint, Bracha was quick to take off in the direction of Amiti, dragging poor Hazael with her.
As the boy did not expect his dog to take off like that, Hazael couldn’t react in time to stop Bracha from running and the lead slipped out of his hand. Now that the pooch was unfettered there was absolutely nothing stopping her from racing over to poor, unsuspecting Amiti who would probably not take kindly to being jumped upon and licked by a dog of all things...
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
As Hazael waited for Jorah to make a decision over what the boys would do, he was pleasantly surprised to hear a somewhat familiar voice. This confusion he felt was absolutely nothing compared to what he felt when he turned around and saw the familiar blob that was Thaddeus of Tzephaniah headed right for him.
A wide grin spread across his face when he realized that this was not some trick of the light and the other man was actually in front of him. He had not seen Thaddeus after the incident in Damascus and quite frankly, Haz was fairly certain that he would never see the other man again after the two had parted ways. That was just the nature of these sorts of things as Haz had been a traveling merchant on the road, only passing through the city that the other man called home. He had met countless people on these trips and his own wretched condition practically guaranteed that Hazael would never cross paths with those people again. So, clearly this was a pleasant surprise, especially as it was thanks to Thaddeus that the boy still had Bracha by his side.
This alone was what probably inspired the warm greeting that Hazael gave the nobleman as he approached. “Thaddeus? What are you doing down south?” Surely, his brother would have been surprised by the wide grin on the boy’s face and the light, airy laugh that escaped him as he loosened his grip on Bracha’s lead, allowing the dog to greet her rescuer. The blonde Saluki tried to jump up on poor Thaddeus, clearly happy to see the Jaffe boy if her rapidly wagging tail was anything to go by. Hazael tried to pull her back but gave up quickly as not only was Bracha not doing any harm, but Thaddeus clearly had a soft spot for hounds. Haz was almost disappointed that the boy had refused his offer to take one of the pups as the man before he was one of the few souls that had a genuinely kind heart.
Though he was very confused as to why the other man was here in Israel (as Haz did not know that Thaddeus was a member of one of the Manheegs) he could take a bit of a wild guess. Rumors had been swirling for a while in Israel that this would be happening, surely such whispers would have reached the northern cities as well. However, Hazael wasn’t going to question it too deeply. After all, clearly Yahweh had a reason to bring these two boys back together again. Who was Haz to question it?
Instead, as he allowed Bracha and Thaddeus to have their own reunion, Haz quickly turned to his own brother and offered a quick explanation as to who Thaddeus was and the good he had done. Being a young man of few words, he was able to quickly get the information across as the dog finally came back to Hazael’s side. Once the Saluki was finally settling down a bit, the boy turned back to the questions that were quickly pouring out of Thaddeus’s mouth. Given his quiet nature, Haz didn’t have the faintest idea how the Dasmascian was able to say so much, so quickly, but luckily Haz was able to sum up his own answers rather succinctly with a small grin spreading across his face.
“I have been well. You?” He started to say, answering the first bit of Thaddeus’s questioning that seemed to be separate from everything else that came afterward. This was understandable given that the topic on Thaddeus’s mind was the news that the Greeks were leaving Judea once and for all. Which was understandable given that they had been here for over ten years. It was quite shocking to hear that they would be quickly kicked out and never be allowed to return. “I hope so. Those filthy mongrels will try to come back in no doubt, but I doubt a single Israeli would let them.” His words were harsh and likely was the first insight that Thaddeus would have had thus far to the fact that Haz held less than savory views on those who came from outside the walls of Judea. Even though the hatred Haz had in his heart for the Greeks might not have been as strong as his father’s or older brother’s, it was still present and might be a bit of a nasty shock to Thaddeus. Perhaps if Hazael had been raised in a different household or in a different city like the man across from him had, Haz would have a different opinion. The nineteen-year-old hadn’t though and just like everyone else in this city, he had grown tired of watching the people that formed his community be slaughtered by the Greeks, one by one. It was long past time that the people of Israel said that enough was enough.
However, he knew that the Greeks were not nearly as honorable as the Judeans. It was incredibly unlikely that the Taengeans would leave without a fight and secretly Hazael was fearing the bloodshed that would stem from this. That wasn’t likely to affect them at the temples though, thank Yahweh.
Hazael was able to push these thoughts from his mind as Thaddeus turned and attempted to point out another man in the sea of people. The boy tried to follow where Thaddeus was attempting to call his attention too, but it was a fruitless effort. After all, Hazael was practically blind. He could barely see the details of Thaddeus as his skin almost blended into the dark, sandy stones that made up the temple. There was no way that Hazael was going to be able to pick out one man in a large crowd. Assuming that Thaddeus had simply forgotten, Hazael was kind enough to not draw attention to the blunder and instead pretend that everything was normal by responding, “No, I don’t think so. Where is he? I cannot see from here.” Hazael gave a small shrug as well as he tried to play off his own disability. After all, he did not want to cause Thaddeus any embarrassment as he was in the other man’s debt for doing what Hazael could not by going after Bracha and his other dogs when they had been stolen from him.
From here, Hazael fully expected that the decision over whether to help or not would be delayed as Thaddeus brought the two boys over to greet Amiti. However, that wasn’t exactly how things went. Not when Bracha had accidentally mistaken Hazael’s question to Thaddeus as a command to find Thaddeus’s brother. After all, Bracha had been tasked with tracking things down like this countless times before and her unique position as Hazael’s eyes had taught her long ago to pay attention to the other clues surrounding her to see what Hazael wanted. Given that she had no impairment, the dog was easily able to find the man in the crowd as he seemed to actually be a bit separate from the commotion. All it took was one gentle pat from Hazael to have the dog to mistakenly think that she had been given a proper command. Never being one to disappoint, Bracha was quick to take off in the direction of Amiti, dragging poor Hazael with her.
As the boy did not expect his dog to take off like that, Hazael couldn’t react in time to stop Bracha from running and the lead slipped out of his hand. Now that the pooch was unfettered there was absolutely nothing stopping her from racing over to poor, unsuspecting Amiti who would probably not take kindly to being jumped upon and licked by a dog of all things...
As Hazael waited for Jorah to make a decision over what the boys would do, he was pleasantly surprised to hear a somewhat familiar voice. This confusion he felt was absolutely nothing compared to what he felt when he turned around and saw the familiar blob that was Thaddeus of Tzephaniah headed right for him.
A wide grin spread across his face when he realized that this was not some trick of the light and the other man was actually in front of him. He had not seen Thaddeus after the incident in Damascus and quite frankly, Haz was fairly certain that he would never see the other man again after the two had parted ways. That was just the nature of these sorts of things as Haz had been a traveling merchant on the road, only passing through the city that the other man called home. He had met countless people on these trips and his own wretched condition practically guaranteed that Hazael would never cross paths with those people again. So, clearly this was a pleasant surprise, especially as it was thanks to Thaddeus that the boy still had Bracha by his side.
This alone was what probably inspired the warm greeting that Hazael gave the nobleman as he approached. “Thaddeus? What are you doing down south?” Surely, his brother would have been surprised by the wide grin on the boy’s face and the light, airy laugh that escaped him as he loosened his grip on Bracha’s lead, allowing the dog to greet her rescuer. The blonde Saluki tried to jump up on poor Thaddeus, clearly happy to see the Jaffe boy if her rapidly wagging tail was anything to go by. Hazael tried to pull her back but gave up quickly as not only was Bracha not doing any harm, but Thaddeus clearly had a soft spot for hounds. Haz was almost disappointed that the boy had refused his offer to take one of the pups as the man before he was one of the few souls that had a genuinely kind heart.
Though he was very confused as to why the other man was here in Israel (as Haz did not know that Thaddeus was a member of one of the Manheegs) he could take a bit of a wild guess. Rumors had been swirling for a while in Israel that this would be happening, surely such whispers would have reached the northern cities as well. However, Hazael wasn’t going to question it too deeply. After all, clearly Yahweh had a reason to bring these two boys back together again. Who was Haz to question it?
Instead, as he allowed Bracha and Thaddeus to have their own reunion, Haz quickly turned to his own brother and offered a quick explanation as to who Thaddeus was and the good he had done. Being a young man of few words, he was able to quickly get the information across as the dog finally came back to Hazael’s side. Once the Saluki was finally settling down a bit, the boy turned back to the questions that were quickly pouring out of Thaddeus’s mouth. Given his quiet nature, Haz didn’t have the faintest idea how the Dasmascian was able to say so much, so quickly, but luckily Haz was able to sum up his own answers rather succinctly with a small grin spreading across his face.
“I have been well. You?” He started to say, answering the first bit of Thaddeus’s questioning that seemed to be separate from everything else that came afterward. This was understandable given that the topic on Thaddeus’s mind was the news that the Greeks were leaving Judea once and for all. Which was understandable given that they had been here for over ten years. It was quite shocking to hear that they would be quickly kicked out and never be allowed to return. “I hope so. Those filthy mongrels will try to come back in no doubt, but I doubt a single Israeli would let them.” His words were harsh and likely was the first insight that Thaddeus would have had thus far to the fact that Haz held less than savory views on those who came from outside the walls of Judea. Even though the hatred Haz had in his heart for the Greeks might not have been as strong as his father’s or older brother’s, it was still present and might be a bit of a nasty shock to Thaddeus. Perhaps if Hazael had been raised in a different household or in a different city like the man across from him had, Haz would have a different opinion. The nineteen-year-old hadn’t though and just like everyone else in this city, he had grown tired of watching the people that formed his community be slaughtered by the Greeks, one by one. It was long past time that the people of Israel said that enough was enough.
However, he knew that the Greeks were not nearly as honorable as the Judeans. It was incredibly unlikely that the Taengeans would leave without a fight and secretly Hazael was fearing the bloodshed that would stem from this. That wasn’t likely to affect them at the temples though, thank Yahweh.
Hazael was able to push these thoughts from his mind as Thaddeus turned and attempted to point out another man in the sea of people. The boy tried to follow where Thaddeus was attempting to call his attention too, but it was a fruitless effort. After all, Hazael was practically blind. He could barely see the details of Thaddeus as his skin almost blended into the dark, sandy stones that made up the temple. There was no way that Hazael was going to be able to pick out one man in a large crowd. Assuming that Thaddeus had simply forgotten, Hazael was kind enough to not draw attention to the blunder and instead pretend that everything was normal by responding, “No, I don’t think so. Where is he? I cannot see from here.” Hazael gave a small shrug as well as he tried to play off his own disability. After all, he did not want to cause Thaddeus any embarrassment as he was in the other man’s debt for doing what Hazael could not by going after Bracha and his other dogs when they had been stolen from him.
From here, Hazael fully expected that the decision over whether to help or not would be delayed as Thaddeus brought the two boys over to greet Amiti. However, that wasn’t exactly how things went. Not when Bracha had accidentally mistaken Hazael’s question to Thaddeus as a command to find Thaddeus’s brother. After all, Bracha had been tasked with tracking things down like this countless times before and her unique position as Hazael’s eyes had taught her long ago to pay attention to the other clues surrounding her to see what Hazael wanted. Given that she had no impairment, the dog was easily able to find the man in the crowd as he seemed to actually be a bit separate from the commotion. All it took was one gentle pat from Hazael to have the dog to mistakenly think that she had been given a proper command. Never being one to disappoint, Bracha was quick to take off in the direction of Amiti, dragging poor Hazael with her.
As the boy did not expect his dog to take off like that, Hazael couldn’t react in time to stop Bracha from running and the lead slipped out of his hand. Now that the pooch was unfettered there was absolutely nothing stopping her from racing over to poor, unsuspecting Amiti who would probably not take kindly to being jumped upon and licked by a dog of all things...
The city of Israel was in a completely chaotic state of being. When possessions were not being pulled out of homes, they were being tugged back within their walls by loyal Grecian servants who couldn't understand what was going on. The Meier Household of the city of Jerusalem had sent militants from their holy order to ensure that riots and fights did not break out too viciously. The worst that Hannah had seen so far was a tugging battle between two women of different colouring, attempting to haul a bedsheet to whom they believed to be the true owner of the fabric. By the time that items made their way to Hannah they were uncontested and no-one came towards her (the simple washer woman) to steal back the pieces that she dunked into the tub of now lukewarm, soapy water.
Taking a slow and calming breath, Hannah attempted to allow everything around her to drift into a lazy haze in her mind. She didn't wish to be a part of this, didn't want to be here, a Grecian face in amongst those that were kicking out the Greeks. But she had had no choice. Her master had sent her here and she was left with a reality that she did not like but could not escape. Trying to ignore the yelling and shouts of orders in Hebrew and Greek, Hannah felt the rush of nausea in her belly as similar calls of aggression and anger filtered in from her memories. On an Israeli street like this one. When her life had fallen apart, her husband had been lost and her own hand mutilated. That same sense of tensions had fallen into her shoulders and spread down her back> It curled around her middle to attach her belly in a way that had it burn and her tongue wet with saliva.
It felt like the early days of morning sickness when she had been with child and the reminder of that was almost her undoing.
Luckily, a voice came from just above her bent head, and drew her focus away from the traumas and tragedies of her life. Hannah looked up, thankful that she had pulled her mitzpahath into place so that the newcomer might not see the greenish hue to her skin. With the sun behind the woman, it was hard to see her features and Hannah squinted up at her from where she was crouched over the tub of water. Her hands were wrinkled and soapy and the cloth she had been pushing roughly against the ridged board was too thick to treat gently.
'My employer, Amiti of Tzephaniah has sent me over to assist. Is there anywhere I could be of help?'
"Er..." Hannah wasn't sure what to say or offer to the girl as she looked about herself at some of the others that were tending to the clothes. "I am washing?" Realising from the look on the girl's face and the Damascus-like lilt to her voice, Hannah belatedly realised that the girl might not know what was going on, so she hurried to explain...
"The Council is evicting the Greeks from these homes. They were furnished with Judean things... Not all of the Greeks replaced them with their own belongings so what are left are going back to the Council's stock for the city. But the textiles require washing before they can be stored away." She lifted the rug that she had been working on. It was thin enough to require washing, else it would have been hung up and beaten with a paddle. "You can help me if you'd like?" There was another ridged board sitting to one side and the tub was large enough for two or three of them at once.
It was only when the young woman was out of direct sunshine that the light no longer cast her into shadow and Hannah could see her face. Her eyes widened when she recognised her. It was yet another time that fate had brought her into the presence of this woman!
"It is you!" Hannah exclaimed before reaching to her headscarf. She pulled it away from her face for a moment so that the Judean woman might see her better. "We have met before, but I do not remember your name?"
She moved the scarf quickly back into place before anyone wondered what a Greek was doing working upon the Judean fabrics, even if she was dressed like a Hebrew.
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The city of Israel was in a completely chaotic state of being. When possessions were not being pulled out of homes, they were being tugged back within their walls by loyal Grecian servants who couldn't understand what was going on. The Meier Household of the city of Jerusalem had sent militants from their holy order to ensure that riots and fights did not break out too viciously. The worst that Hannah had seen so far was a tugging battle between two women of different colouring, attempting to haul a bedsheet to whom they believed to be the true owner of the fabric. By the time that items made their way to Hannah they were uncontested and no-one came towards her (the simple washer woman) to steal back the pieces that she dunked into the tub of now lukewarm, soapy water.
Taking a slow and calming breath, Hannah attempted to allow everything around her to drift into a lazy haze in her mind. She didn't wish to be a part of this, didn't want to be here, a Grecian face in amongst those that were kicking out the Greeks. But she had had no choice. Her master had sent her here and she was left with a reality that she did not like but could not escape. Trying to ignore the yelling and shouts of orders in Hebrew and Greek, Hannah felt the rush of nausea in her belly as similar calls of aggression and anger filtered in from her memories. On an Israeli street like this one. When her life had fallen apart, her husband had been lost and her own hand mutilated. That same sense of tensions had fallen into her shoulders and spread down her back> It curled around her middle to attach her belly in a way that had it burn and her tongue wet with saliva.
It felt like the early days of morning sickness when she had been with child and the reminder of that was almost her undoing.
Luckily, a voice came from just above her bent head, and drew her focus away from the traumas and tragedies of her life. Hannah looked up, thankful that she had pulled her mitzpahath into place so that the newcomer might not see the greenish hue to her skin. With the sun behind the woman, it was hard to see her features and Hannah squinted up at her from where she was crouched over the tub of water. Her hands were wrinkled and soapy and the cloth she had been pushing roughly against the ridged board was too thick to treat gently.
'My employer, Amiti of Tzephaniah has sent me over to assist. Is there anywhere I could be of help?'
"Er..." Hannah wasn't sure what to say or offer to the girl as she looked about herself at some of the others that were tending to the clothes. "I am washing?" Realising from the look on the girl's face and the Damascus-like lilt to her voice, Hannah belatedly realised that the girl might not know what was going on, so she hurried to explain...
"The Council is evicting the Greeks from these homes. They were furnished with Judean things... Not all of the Greeks replaced them with their own belongings so what are left are going back to the Council's stock for the city. But the textiles require washing before they can be stored away." She lifted the rug that she had been working on. It was thin enough to require washing, else it would have been hung up and beaten with a paddle. "You can help me if you'd like?" There was another ridged board sitting to one side and the tub was large enough for two or three of them at once.
It was only when the young woman was out of direct sunshine that the light no longer cast her into shadow and Hannah could see her face. Her eyes widened when she recognised her. It was yet another time that fate had brought her into the presence of this woman!
"It is you!" Hannah exclaimed before reaching to her headscarf. She pulled it away from her face for a moment so that the Judean woman might see her better. "We have met before, but I do not remember your name?"
She moved the scarf quickly back into place before anyone wondered what a Greek was doing working upon the Judean fabrics, even if she was dressed like a Hebrew.
The city of Israel was in a completely chaotic state of being. When possessions were not being pulled out of homes, they were being tugged back within their walls by loyal Grecian servants who couldn't understand what was going on. The Meier Household of the city of Jerusalem had sent militants from their holy order to ensure that riots and fights did not break out too viciously. The worst that Hannah had seen so far was a tugging battle between two women of different colouring, attempting to haul a bedsheet to whom they believed to be the true owner of the fabric. By the time that items made their way to Hannah they were uncontested and no-one came towards her (the simple washer woman) to steal back the pieces that she dunked into the tub of now lukewarm, soapy water.
Taking a slow and calming breath, Hannah attempted to allow everything around her to drift into a lazy haze in her mind. She didn't wish to be a part of this, didn't want to be here, a Grecian face in amongst those that were kicking out the Greeks. But she had had no choice. Her master had sent her here and she was left with a reality that she did not like but could not escape. Trying to ignore the yelling and shouts of orders in Hebrew and Greek, Hannah felt the rush of nausea in her belly as similar calls of aggression and anger filtered in from her memories. On an Israeli street like this one. When her life had fallen apart, her husband had been lost and her own hand mutilated. That same sense of tensions had fallen into her shoulders and spread down her back> It curled around her middle to attach her belly in a way that had it burn and her tongue wet with saliva.
It felt like the early days of morning sickness when she had been with child and the reminder of that was almost her undoing.
Luckily, a voice came from just above her bent head, and drew her focus away from the traumas and tragedies of her life. Hannah looked up, thankful that she had pulled her mitzpahath into place so that the newcomer might not see the greenish hue to her skin. With the sun behind the woman, it was hard to see her features and Hannah squinted up at her from where she was crouched over the tub of water. Her hands were wrinkled and soapy and the cloth she had been pushing roughly against the ridged board was too thick to treat gently.
'My employer, Amiti of Tzephaniah has sent me over to assist. Is there anywhere I could be of help?'
"Er..." Hannah wasn't sure what to say or offer to the girl as she looked about herself at some of the others that were tending to the clothes. "I am washing?" Realising from the look on the girl's face and the Damascus-like lilt to her voice, Hannah belatedly realised that the girl might not know what was going on, so she hurried to explain...
"The Council is evicting the Greeks from these homes. They were furnished with Judean things... Not all of the Greeks replaced them with their own belongings so what are left are going back to the Council's stock for the city. But the textiles require washing before they can be stored away." She lifted the rug that she had been working on. It was thin enough to require washing, else it would have been hung up and beaten with a paddle. "You can help me if you'd like?" There was another ridged board sitting to one side and the tub was large enough for two or three of them at once.
It was only when the young woman was out of direct sunshine that the light no longer cast her into shadow and Hannah could see her face. Her eyes widened when she recognised her. It was yet another time that fate had brought her into the presence of this woman!
"It is you!" Hannah exclaimed before reaching to her headscarf. She pulled it away from her face for a moment so that the Judean woman might see her better. "We have met before, but I do not remember your name?"
She moved the scarf quickly back into place before anyone wondered what a Greek was doing working upon the Judean fabrics, even if she was dressed like a Hebrew.
Having never been one to make much friends, Gwyneth's acquaintences were few and far in between. Before her life of servitude, she had simply been a daughter who... well, lived in servitude to her parents, so not much has changed really. Gwyneth had never really been allowed to live her life on her terms, and much of it has been depending on serving or watching over someone else's wellbeing. So to have 'friends' was a foreign concept to the brunette. An introvert by nature, she was simply used to speaking only when spoken to, and doing tasks as she was instructed.
Nodding dutifully once the woman offered a task, Gwyneth proceeded to assist the young lady, hitching up her skirts a little to settle down in a spot next to the fair-skinned lady. She did not strike Gwyneth as someone who looked particularly as if they came from Judea, but neither was Gwyneth one to question. She was curious yes, but if Amiti heard her questioning, she had no doubt her employer wouldn't be pleased.
But it didn't mean Gwyneth would listen, and listen she did intently as the other lady explained in further detail. What little the Judean knew, was that the foreign looking people who had previously been allowed to stay in Israel, was no longer welcomed. As a young girl, Gwyneth had heard of the stories of the Greek staying in Israel, but she had gotten little chance to meet any of them. Was it odd then, that her first experience of such people would be on the day they leave?
A flash of a grateful smile flashed her face to the other, and she quickly hurried to assist the other, bringing the large rug to the ridged board. Gwyneth helped Hannah arrange the rug so they could both work on the large textile at once, before starting to work on it.
Just as she picked up scrub and pulled her sleeves up to begin her work however, a loud exclamation made Gwyneth look up in surprise, almost jumping as she looked to the other. A curious, almost alarmed look crossed her face when she saw the other pulling her headscarf. Her own was tightly secured over her head, and it would likely cause a ruckus if her employer saw her removing hers. But despite the removal and quick replacement of it, Gwyneth could not seem to recall the face, an apologetic look crossing her face. "I'm sorry, but when did you say we have met?" she asked, guilt in her own wry smile as she casted a wary gaze over her shoulder. "I'm Gwyneth of Qiana, servant to the Jaffe Manheeg." Respectful and formal, it was the way the housekeeper had taught her to introduce herself the first day she had entered her job.
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Having never been one to make much friends, Gwyneth's acquaintences were few and far in between. Before her life of servitude, she had simply been a daughter who... well, lived in servitude to her parents, so not much has changed really. Gwyneth had never really been allowed to live her life on her terms, and much of it has been depending on serving or watching over someone else's wellbeing. So to have 'friends' was a foreign concept to the brunette. An introvert by nature, she was simply used to speaking only when spoken to, and doing tasks as she was instructed.
Nodding dutifully once the woman offered a task, Gwyneth proceeded to assist the young lady, hitching up her skirts a little to settle down in a spot next to the fair-skinned lady. She did not strike Gwyneth as someone who looked particularly as if they came from Judea, but neither was Gwyneth one to question. She was curious yes, but if Amiti heard her questioning, she had no doubt her employer wouldn't be pleased.
But it didn't mean Gwyneth would listen, and listen she did intently as the other lady explained in further detail. What little the Judean knew, was that the foreign looking people who had previously been allowed to stay in Israel, was no longer welcomed. As a young girl, Gwyneth had heard of the stories of the Greek staying in Israel, but she had gotten little chance to meet any of them. Was it odd then, that her first experience of such people would be on the day they leave?
A flash of a grateful smile flashed her face to the other, and she quickly hurried to assist the other, bringing the large rug to the ridged board. Gwyneth helped Hannah arrange the rug so they could both work on the large textile at once, before starting to work on it.
Just as she picked up scrub and pulled her sleeves up to begin her work however, a loud exclamation made Gwyneth look up in surprise, almost jumping as she looked to the other. A curious, almost alarmed look crossed her face when she saw the other pulling her headscarf. Her own was tightly secured over her head, and it would likely cause a ruckus if her employer saw her removing hers. But despite the removal and quick replacement of it, Gwyneth could not seem to recall the face, an apologetic look crossing her face. "I'm sorry, but when did you say we have met?" she asked, guilt in her own wry smile as she casted a wary gaze over her shoulder. "I'm Gwyneth of Qiana, servant to the Jaffe Manheeg." Respectful and formal, it was the way the housekeeper had taught her to introduce herself the first day she had entered her job.
Having never been one to make much friends, Gwyneth's acquaintences were few and far in between. Before her life of servitude, she had simply been a daughter who... well, lived in servitude to her parents, so not much has changed really. Gwyneth had never really been allowed to live her life on her terms, and much of it has been depending on serving or watching over someone else's wellbeing. So to have 'friends' was a foreign concept to the brunette. An introvert by nature, she was simply used to speaking only when spoken to, and doing tasks as she was instructed.
Nodding dutifully once the woman offered a task, Gwyneth proceeded to assist the young lady, hitching up her skirts a little to settle down in a spot next to the fair-skinned lady. She did not strike Gwyneth as someone who looked particularly as if they came from Judea, but neither was Gwyneth one to question. She was curious yes, but if Amiti heard her questioning, she had no doubt her employer wouldn't be pleased.
But it didn't mean Gwyneth would listen, and listen she did intently as the other lady explained in further detail. What little the Judean knew, was that the foreign looking people who had previously been allowed to stay in Israel, was no longer welcomed. As a young girl, Gwyneth had heard of the stories of the Greek staying in Israel, but she had gotten little chance to meet any of them. Was it odd then, that her first experience of such people would be on the day they leave?
A flash of a grateful smile flashed her face to the other, and she quickly hurried to assist the other, bringing the large rug to the ridged board. Gwyneth helped Hannah arrange the rug so they could both work on the large textile at once, before starting to work on it.
Just as she picked up scrub and pulled her sleeves up to begin her work however, a loud exclamation made Gwyneth look up in surprise, almost jumping as she looked to the other. A curious, almost alarmed look crossed her face when she saw the other pulling her headscarf. Her own was tightly secured over her head, and it would likely cause a ruckus if her employer saw her removing hers. But despite the removal and quick replacement of it, Gwyneth could not seem to recall the face, an apologetic look crossing her face. "I'm sorry, but when did you say we have met?" she asked, guilt in her own wry smile as she casted a wary gaze over her shoulder. "I'm Gwyneth of Qiana, servant to the Jaffe Manheeg." Respectful and formal, it was the way the housekeeper had taught her to introduce herself the first day she had entered her job.
Most of Amiti’s attention was on the hustle and bustle around them. A deep frown creased between his brows. The corners of his mouth twisted down, forcing his lips into a tight line. This was all Simeon’s doing and Amiti still did not truly agree with this. It was nearly idiotic, in his opinion. They had no real army. What was to prevent the Greeks from laying siege in retaliation? What was to prevent Egypt from marching straight in after the Greeks were gone? Better the enemy they knew than the one they did not.
He did not like this and he did not like the underhanded way that it was happening. Though Amiti had opinions, he kept them mostly to himself. What was done was done and there wasn’t any way to undo it now. What he intended to do was to have himself and his brother and servant far away from here - before the Greeks returned. Possibly they would shore up their defenses in Damascus. They might not have an army now but they definitely needed to get one as soon as possible. Though, nothing could fend off the Greeks forever.
Moving away from Thaddeus and his friend, Amiti crossed the intervening space to be closer to where the servants were as they gathered up belongings. He watched things being hastily packed away and hauled into piles for the soldiers to grab. This was...not the way he’d have chosen to do it. Not at all.
From somewhere behind him, he heard excited yapping. A black ball of fur hurdled past him, bolting towards...something. Amiti noted it was a dog and turned around to find Thaddeus and his friend coming towards him. “Someone’s got a loose dog,” he said distractedly, gesturing behind him where the animal put her paws up on some man who also had a beard and fine robe. The man was not happy and Amiti could only be glad that it wasn’t himself that was getting pelted with paw prints.
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Most of Amiti’s attention was on the hustle and bustle around them. A deep frown creased between his brows. The corners of his mouth twisted down, forcing his lips into a tight line. This was all Simeon’s doing and Amiti still did not truly agree with this. It was nearly idiotic, in his opinion. They had no real army. What was to prevent the Greeks from laying siege in retaliation? What was to prevent Egypt from marching straight in after the Greeks were gone? Better the enemy they knew than the one they did not.
He did not like this and he did not like the underhanded way that it was happening. Though Amiti had opinions, he kept them mostly to himself. What was done was done and there wasn’t any way to undo it now. What he intended to do was to have himself and his brother and servant far away from here - before the Greeks returned. Possibly they would shore up their defenses in Damascus. They might not have an army now but they definitely needed to get one as soon as possible. Though, nothing could fend off the Greeks forever.
Moving away from Thaddeus and his friend, Amiti crossed the intervening space to be closer to where the servants were as they gathered up belongings. He watched things being hastily packed away and hauled into piles for the soldiers to grab. This was...not the way he’d have chosen to do it. Not at all.
From somewhere behind him, he heard excited yapping. A black ball of fur hurdled past him, bolting towards...something. Amiti noted it was a dog and turned around to find Thaddeus and his friend coming towards him. “Someone’s got a loose dog,” he said distractedly, gesturing behind him where the animal put her paws up on some man who also had a beard and fine robe. The man was not happy and Amiti could only be glad that it wasn’t himself that was getting pelted with paw prints.
Most of Amiti’s attention was on the hustle and bustle around them. A deep frown creased between his brows. The corners of his mouth twisted down, forcing his lips into a tight line. This was all Simeon’s doing and Amiti still did not truly agree with this. It was nearly idiotic, in his opinion. They had no real army. What was to prevent the Greeks from laying siege in retaliation? What was to prevent Egypt from marching straight in after the Greeks were gone? Better the enemy they knew than the one they did not.
He did not like this and he did not like the underhanded way that it was happening. Though Amiti had opinions, he kept them mostly to himself. What was done was done and there wasn’t any way to undo it now. What he intended to do was to have himself and his brother and servant far away from here - before the Greeks returned. Possibly they would shore up their defenses in Damascus. They might not have an army now but they definitely needed to get one as soon as possible. Though, nothing could fend off the Greeks forever.
Moving away from Thaddeus and his friend, Amiti crossed the intervening space to be closer to where the servants were as they gathered up belongings. He watched things being hastily packed away and hauled into piles for the soldiers to grab. This was...not the way he’d have chosen to do it. Not at all.
From somewhere behind him, he heard excited yapping. A black ball of fur hurdled past him, bolting towards...something. Amiti noted it was a dog and turned around to find Thaddeus and his friend coming towards him. “Someone’s got a loose dog,” he said distractedly, gesturing behind him where the animal put her paws up on some man who also had a beard and fine robe. The man was not happy and Amiti could only be glad that it wasn’t himself that was getting pelted with paw prints.
Selima had many thoughts and many opinions, but it did not mean she would voice them. She knew better than to have her voice heard when it should be silent. Her husband was a man with strong ideals, and he would never sway once his mind was set. So Selima had remained silent even if she believed that… this was the wrong decision.
Greeks were sinners. War and violence should never be tolerated. To that- Selima could agree. But the Greeks were also individuals. For ten years Judeans lived alongside the Greek soldiers and never once did they cause trouble. Some of them fell in love, got married, created their own families. These lands became their home. It crushed Selima’s heart imagining if this was her, being torn away from her family with only a day to collect her things.
But what was she to do? She would not dare tell her husband that she thought this decision was wrong. This was not her right to voice her opinion, and he would not appreciate her dissent. All Selima could do is travel with her husband and her son to Isreal, and watch the events as they unfold. Abir was in charge of the city guard in Jerusalem, so he and his men were summoned here to protect the gate. That alone was enough to cause Selima’s heart to grow still. What if the Greeks reacted terribly from being forced out of Judea? What if… he got hurt?
Simeon, too, had obvious business here. When they arrived he went to take care of it, and Selima was left to wander the busy streets. There was so much work to be done. Some people were happy the Greeks were being sent out, others were devastated. What of the children of half-Greek descent? Would they grow without a father? A child deserved both parents, a mother to fill them with love and warmth, and a father to ensure they were headed down the righteous path. Did the council think of them when they made the decision?
Selima just had to have faith in the men of the council. The decision had been made, and there was no reversing it. She would pray that it was the right choice for all of Judea. She had to pray no harm would come to them, nor the families that were deeply affected by the actions the council had to take. Selima just… had to believe.
Lost in her thoughts and the chaos all around, Selima was hardly paying attention. She got startled by a dog running by, eyes following him. Suddenly whack she walked right into a solid figure. “Excuse me!” Selima said, before realizing who she had run into. “Oh, Amiti!” Selima took a step back, allowing the man space again. “I apologize, I should have paid better attention.” This was the second time in a little over a month that Selima had run-in with Amiti. He would think her to be careless. That would not do. “There’s just… so much to see right now.”
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Selima had many thoughts and many opinions, but it did not mean she would voice them. She knew better than to have her voice heard when it should be silent. Her husband was a man with strong ideals, and he would never sway once his mind was set. So Selima had remained silent even if she believed that… this was the wrong decision.
Greeks were sinners. War and violence should never be tolerated. To that- Selima could agree. But the Greeks were also individuals. For ten years Judeans lived alongside the Greek soldiers and never once did they cause trouble. Some of them fell in love, got married, created their own families. These lands became their home. It crushed Selima’s heart imagining if this was her, being torn away from her family with only a day to collect her things.
But what was she to do? She would not dare tell her husband that she thought this decision was wrong. This was not her right to voice her opinion, and he would not appreciate her dissent. All Selima could do is travel with her husband and her son to Isreal, and watch the events as they unfold. Abir was in charge of the city guard in Jerusalem, so he and his men were summoned here to protect the gate. That alone was enough to cause Selima’s heart to grow still. What if the Greeks reacted terribly from being forced out of Judea? What if… he got hurt?
Simeon, too, had obvious business here. When they arrived he went to take care of it, and Selima was left to wander the busy streets. There was so much work to be done. Some people were happy the Greeks were being sent out, others were devastated. What of the children of half-Greek descent? Would they grow without a father? A child deserved both parents, a mother to fill them with love and warmth, and a father to ensure they were headed down the righteous path. Did the council think of them when they made the decision?
Selima just had to have faith in the men of the council. The decision had been made, and there was no reversing it. She would pray that it was the right choice for all of Judea. She had to pray no harm would come to them, nor the families that were deeply affected by the actions the council had to take. Selima just… had to believe.
Lost in her thoughts and the chaos all around, Selima was hardly paying attention. She got startled by a dog running by, eyes following him. Suddenly whack she walked right into a solid figure. “Excuse me!” Selima said, before realizing who she had run into. “Oh, Amiti!” Selima took a step back, allowing the man space again. “I apologize, I should have paid better attention.” This was the second time in a little over a month that Selima had run-in with Amiti. He would think her to be careless. That would not do. “There’s just… so much to see right now.”
Selima had many thoughts and many opinions, but it did not mean she would voice them. She knew better than to have her voice heard when it should be silent. Her husband was a man with strong ideals, and he would never sway once his mind was set. So Selima had remained silent even if she believed that… this was the wrong decision.
Greeks were sinners. War and violence should never be tolerated. To that- Selima could agree. But the Greeks were also individuals. For ten years Judeans lived alongside the Greek soldiers and never once did they cause trouble. Some of them fell in love, got married, created their own families. These lands became their home. It crushed Selima’s heart imagining if this was her, being torn away from her family with only a day to collect her things.
But what was she to do? She would not dare tell her husband that she thought this decision was wrong. This was not her right to voice her opinion, and he would not appreciate her dissent. All Selima could do is travel with her husband and her son to Isreal, and watch the events as they unfold. Abir was in charge of the city guard in Jerusalem, so he and his men were summoned here to protect the gate. That alone was enough to cause Selima’s heart to grow still. What if the Greeks reacted terribly from being forced out of Judea? What if… he got hurt?
Simeon, too, had obvious business here. When they arrived he went to take care of it, and Selima was left to wander the busy streets. There was so much work to be done. Some people were happy the Greeks were being sent out, others were devastated. What of the children of half-Greek descent? Would they grow without a father? A child deserved both parents, a mother to fill them with love and warmth, and a father to ensure they were headed down the righteous path. Did the council think of them when they made the decision?
Selima just had to have faith in the men of the council. The decision had been made, and there was no reversing it. She would pray that it was the right choice for all of Judea. She had to pray no harm would come to them, nor the families that were deeply affected by the actions the council had to take. Selima just… had to believe.
Lost in her thoughts and the chaos all around, Selima was hardly paying attention. She got startled by a dog running by, eyes following him. Suddenly whack she walked right into a solid figure. “Excuse me!” Selima said, before realizing who she had run into. “Oh, Amiti!” Selima took a step back, allowing the man space again. “I apologize, I should have paid better attention.” This was the second time in a little over a month that Selima had run-in with Amiti. He would think her to be careless. That would not do. “There’s just… so much to see right now.”
As much as Hazael would like to think that his golden-colored Saluki was a perfectly trained hound, Bracha had a certain knack for teaching him that this was not the case. Sometimes she would when the Israeli boy told her to stand patiently by his side so that she might out of the way of a large crowd of people forming on the steps of the temple and other times… Not so much. Haz could feel his dog start to tug on her leash as he conversed with Thaddeus, her once valiant rescuer. It was a simple pull at first, almost no different than when she was trying to lead her blind handler away from a rather dangerous situation. The boy merely just held tighter to the leash. However, that tugging grew more and more insistent as a nearby yapping grew louder. The noises of another dog were filling the square, which was rather annoying, but at least Hazael could breathe a sigh of relief in regards to the fact that his dog was only making some sort of whimpering noise, making it more than clear that she wanted to join whatever chaos was happening elsewhere.
As if Hazael was going to let that happen.
“Bracha no.” He muttered sharply while giving the blonde dog the command to sit. Had Bracha not been so eager to take part in whatever this black dog was up to (a beast that Hazael himself had not seen yet due to his faulty eyesight) she would have listened right away. Like she normally did. However, the combination of being in such a large crowd and seeing another dog that looked suspiciously like her made Hazael’s command seem insignificant in light of everything else that was going on. In fact, Hazael might not have known it, but even he was not as important right now to Bracha in comparison to that black dog who had now jumped up on some poor older man, licking his face as it tried to reach the food in his hand. Now it was being held high above his head as he tried to shake the hound off, but it seemed to be that none of the typical Hebrew commands the older man was spitting out was working on this stray hound that just wanted a bite to eat.
Between the scene causing such a commotion and Bracha making her intentions on joining the fray so clear, it was impossible for both Hazael and Thaddeus to not turn their heads to the scene, especially as the old man’s family started to step in for their grandfather’s aid. Standing from a distance, Hazael debated inserting himself into the situation as he knew how to handle dogs, but from this distance, the young man could only guess that the dog that was causing all this trouble was a stray. There was little that the young man could do with strays, especially when they were compared to the docile creatures that were the dogs that he raised himself. Even Hazael was smart enough to not mess with a stray unless he had a very good reason to. It was unlikely he was going to intervene in this moment, especially if this very angry crowd decided to turn on his own pooch after this moment, even though they were clearly not the same dog. Given the sheer amount of riots and the deep tension bubbling throughout the city, this wasn’t that outlandish of an assumption to make.
Too bad for the Israeli though that his dog had other plans. Hazael might not recognize the dog from this distance, but Bracha did and she could see why there was no snarling or growling coming from this ‘stray’ as one might expect. After all, she had raised her pup to be better than that. That was why Bracha ignored Hazael’s command and decided to bolt out her handler’s grasp just as soon as the less-tolerant grandson of the older man’s decided to step in and quite literally shove the dark dog off of the poor man who just wanted a snack. Little did he know how terrible of a mistake that was.
Instantly the golden dog snarled as she watched someone lay a hand on her grown child and she began to take off in that direction to defend the darker dog that she had last seen when they were a pup. Hazael was left behind in the dust, but it wouldn’t seem to be for very long as since both he and Thaddeus were already paying attention to the unfolding scene, it was rather easy for the two of them to be hot on the dog’s tail. Being more sure-footed and considerably more athletic than the blind boy, Hazael was relieved to see that Thaddeus was able to grab Bracha’s leash before she could bite the grandson if her snarls and barks were any indicators of her intentions.
Already being dragged into the fray, Hazael went after the dark dog, hoping that he might be able to shoo it away from the scene so it couldn’t cause any more trouble. Let the stray travel to some other part of the city to cause a ruckus. It would be better off that way as far as Hazael was concerned. However, to his surprise, once he was able to approach the dog, he was surprised to see not only the dog’s tail wagging but also the twine collar wrapped around its neck. Instead of him needing to run after the dog, the darker dog happily trotted up to him as if they were greeting an old friend? Hazael was so utterly confused by this sight, did he know this dog?
That answer was going to be painted clear for him just as soon as his fingers wrapped around the twine collar and a shout rose up in the crowd. It was an angry unintelligible cry, sounding vaguely familiar to Hazael, but it was not something that he could understand. For good reason too as it was in a tongue that he could not understand. A language that was no longer welcome in Judea following the edict of the council of elders.
“Get your hands off of my dog![/i]”
Hazael turned at the noise, unable to understand the words because of their greek origin just as a burly man dressed in a military tunic parted his way through the crowd on the temple steps; making a beeline straight for Hazael. The young man’s eyes widened in shock at the sight of the new arrival. It was painfully obvious that this man was Greek from his lighter hair and shield strapped to his back. He was dressed in vibrant shades of red and gold, colors that were not commonly seen in Judea as they were too gaudy for most citizens’ tastes, but not for their guests.
This man was a Greek soldier and he had just wandered into the moving party that he was not invited to.
Not understanding what was happening, but understanding that it had something to do with the dog, Hazael left the twine collar go and instinctively tried to back up as the battle-hardened man rounded on him, shouting words he couldn’t comprehend. However, Hazael was not as quick as the Greek and the next thing he knew he had this soldier shouting in his face, screaming about going near his dog and the dirty trick the Judeans were doing by waiting for all the greeks to leave before they kicked them out. Hazael himself had done nothing wrong, but now he had become the proverbial punching bag for this greek man’s anger and it seemed to be that there was no escape with a temple wall at his back and an angry man in his face.
Hazael was clearly going to need some help getting out of this one, but would anyone stand up for the Israeli who had been seen with the dogs that had started this whole mess?
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
As much as Hazael would like to think that his golden-colored Saluki was a perfectly trained hound, Bracha had a certain knack for teaching him that this was not the case. Sometimes she would when the Israeli boy told her to stand patiently by his side so that she might out of the way of a large crowd of people forming on the steps of the temple and other times… Not so much. Haz could feel his dog start to tug on her leash as he conversed with Thaddeus, her once valiant rescuer. It was a simple pull at first, almost no different than when she was trying to lead her blind handler away from a rather dangerous situation. The boy merely just held tighter to the leash. However, that tugging grew more and more insistent as a nearby yapping grew louder. The noises of another dog were filling the square, which was rather annoying, but at least Hazael could breathe a sigh of relief in regards to the fact that his dog was only making some sort of whimpering noise, making it more than clear that she wanted to join whatever chaos was happening elsewhere.
As if Hazael was going to let that happen.
“Bracha no.” He muttered sharply while giving the blonde dog the command to sit. Had Bracha not been so eager to take part in whatever this black dog was up to (a beast that Hazael himself had not seen yet due to his faulty eyesight) she would have listened right away. Like she normally did. However, the combination of being in such a large crowd and seeing another dog that looked suspiciously like her made Hazael’s command seem insignificant in light of everything else that was going on. In fact, Hazael might not have known it, but even he was not as important right now to Bracha in comparison to that black dog who had now jumped up on some poor older man, licking his face as it tried to reach the food in his hand. Now it was being held high above his head as he tried to shake the hound off, but it seemed to be that none of the typical Hebrew commands the older man was spitting out was working on this stray hound that just wanted a bite to eat.
Between the scene causing such a commotion and Bracha making her intentions on joining the fray so clear, it was impossible for both Hazael and Thaddeus to not turn their heads to the scene, especially as the old man’s family started to step in for their grandfather’s aid. Standing from a distance, Hazael debated inserting himself into the situation as he knew how to handle dogs, but from this distance, the young man could only guess that the dog that was causing all this trouble was a stray. There was little that the young man could do with strays, especially when they were compared to the docile creatures that were the dogs that he raised himself. Even Hazael was smart enough to not mess with a stray unless he had a very good reason to. It was unlikely he was going to intervene in this moment, especially if this very angry crowd decided to turn on his own pooch after this moment, even though they were clearly not the same dog. Given the sheer amount of riots and the deep tension bubbling throughout the city, this wasn’t that outlandish of an assumption to make.
Too bad for the Israeli though that his dog had other plans. Hazael might not recognize the dog from this distance, but Bracha did and she could see why there was no snarling or growling coming from this ‘stray’ as one might expect. After all, she had raised her pup to be better than that. That was why Bracha ignored Hazael’s command and decided to bolt out her handler’s grasp just as soon as the less-tolerant grandson of the older man’s decided to step in and quite literally shove the dark dog off of the poor man who just wanted a snack. Little did he know how terrible of a mistake that was.
Instantly the golden dog snarled as she watched someone lay a hand on her grown child and she began to take off in that direction to defend the darker dog that she had last seen when they were a pup. Hazael was left behind in the dust, but it wouldn’t seem to be for very long as since both he and Thaddeus were already paying attention to the unfolding scene, it was rather easy for the two of them to be hot on the dog’s tail. Being more sure-footed and considerably more athletic than the blind boy, Hazael was relieved to see that Thaddeus was able to grab Bracha’s leash before she could bite the grandson if her snarls and barks were any indicators of her intentions.
Already being dragged into the fray, Hazael went after the dark dog, hoping that he might be able to shoo it away from the scene so it couldn’t cause any more trouble. Let the stray travel to some other part of the city to cause a ruckus. It would be better off that way as far as Hazael was concerned. However, to his surprise, once he was able to approach the dog, he was surprised to see not only the dog’s tail wagging but also the twine collar wrapped around its neck. Instead of him needing to run after the dog, the darker dog happily trotted up to him as if they were greeting an old friend? Hazael was so utterly confused by this sight, did he know this dog?
That answer was going to be painted clear for him just as soon as his fingers wrapped around the twine collar and a shout rose up in the crowd. It was an angry unintelligible cry, sounding vaguely familiar to Hazael, but it was not something that he could understand. For good reason too as it was in a tongue that he could not understand. A language that was no longer welcome in Judea following the edict of the council of elders.
“Get your hands off of my dog![/i]”
Hazael turned at the noise, unable to understand the words because of their greek origin just as a burly man dressed in a military tunic parted his way through the crowd on the temple steps; making a beeline straight for Hazael. The young man’s eyes widened in shock at the sight of the new arrival. It was painfully obvious that this man was Greek from his lighter hair and shield strapped to his back. He was dressed in vibrant shades of red and gold, colors that were not commonly seen in Judea as they were too gaudy for most citizens’ tastes, but not for their guests.
This man was a Greek soldier and he had just wandered into the moving party that he was not invited to.
Not understanding what was happening, but understanding that it had something to do with the dog, Hazael left the twine collar go and instinctively tried to back up as the battle-hardened man rounded on him, shouting words he couldn’t comprehend. However, Hazael was not as quick as the Greek and the next thing he knew he had this soldier shouting in his face, screaming about going near his dog and the dirty trick the Judeans were doing by waiting for all the greeks to leave before they kicked them out. Hazael himself had done nothing wrong, but now he had become the proverbial punching bag for this greek man’s anger and it seemed to be that there was no escape with a temple wall at his back and an angry man in his face.
Hazael was clearly going to need some help getting out of this one, but would anyone stand up for the Israeli who had been seen with the dogs that had started this whole mess?
As much as Hazael would like to think that his golden-colored Saluki was a perfectly trained hound, Bracha had a certain knack for teaching him that this was not the case. Sometimes she would when the Israeli boy told her to stand patiently by his side so that she might out of the way of a large crowd of people forming on the steps of the temple and other times… Not so much. Haz could feel his dog start to tug on her leash as he conversed with Thaddeus, her once valiant rescuer. It was a simple pull at first, almost no different than when she was trying to lead her blind handler away from a rather dangerous situation. The boy merely just held tighter to the leash. However, that tugging grew more and more insistent as a nearby yapping grew louder. The noises of another dog were filling the square, which was rather annoying, but at least Hazael could breathe a sigh of relief in regards to the fact that his dog was only making some sort of whimpering noise, making it more than clear that she wanted to join whatever chaos was happening elsewhere.
As if Hazael was going to let that happen.
“Bracha no.” He muttered sharply while giving the blonde dog the command to sit. Had Bracha not been so eager to take part in whatever this black dog was up to (a beast that Hazael himself had not seen yet due to his faulty eyesight) she would have listened right away. Like she normally did. However, the combination of being in such a large crowd and seeing another dog that looked suspiciously like her made Hazael’s command seem insignificant in light of everything else that was going on. In fact, Hazael might not have known it, but even he was not as important right now to Bracha in comparison to that black dog who had now jumped up on some poor older man, licking his face as it tried to reach the food in his hand. Now it was being held high above his head as he tried to shake the hound off, but it seemed to be that none of the typical Hebrew commands the older man was spitting out was working on this stray hound that just wanted a bite to eat.
Between the scene causing such a commotion and Bracha making her intentions on joining the fray so clear, it was impossible for both Hazael and Thaddeus to not turn their heads to the scene, especially as the old man’s family started to step in for their grandfather’s aid. Standing from a distance, Hazael debated inserting himself into the situation as he knew how to handle dogs, but from this distance, the young man could only guess that the dog that was causing all this trouble was a stray. There was little that the young man could do with strays, especially when they were compared to the docile creatures that were the dogs that he raised himself. Even Hazael was smart enough to not mess with a stray unless he had a very good reason to. It was unlikely he was going to intervene in this moment, especially if this very angry crowd decided to turn on his own pooch after this moment, even though they were clearly not the same dog. Given the sheer amount of riots and the deep tension bubbling throughout the city, this wasn’t that outlandish of an assumption to make.
Too bad for the Israeli though that his dog had other plans. Hazael might not recognize the dog from this distance, but Bracha did and she could see why there was no snarling or growling coming from this ‘stray’ as one might expect. After all, she had raised her pup to be better than that. That was why Bracha ignored Hazael’s command and decided to bolt out her handler’s grasp just as soon as the less-tolerant grandson of the older man’s decided to step in and quite literally shove the dark dog off of the poor man who just wanted a snack. Little did he know how terrible of a mistake that was.
Instantly the golden dog snarled as she watched someone lay a hand on her grown child and she began to take off in that direction to defend the darker dog that she had last seen when they were a pup. Hazael was left behind in the dust, but it wouldn’t seem to be for very long as since both he and Thaddeus were already paying attention to the unfolding scene, it was rather easy for the two of them to be hot on the dog’s tail. Being more sure-footed and considerably more athletic than the blind boy, Hazael was relieved to see that Thaddeus was able to grab Bracha’s leash before she could bite the grandson if her snarls and barks were any indicators of her intentions.
Already being dragged into the fray, Hazael went after the dark dog, hoping that he might be able to shoo it away from the scene so it couldn’t cause any more trouble. Let the stray travel to some other part of the city to cause a ruckus. It would be better off that way as far as Hazael was concerned. However, to his surprise, once he was able to approach the dog, he was surprised to see not only the dog’s tail wagging but also the twine collar wrapped around its neck. Instead of him needing to run after the dog, the darker dog happily trotted up to him as if they were greeting an old friend? Hazael was so utterly confused by this sight, did he know this dog?
That answer was going to be painted clear for him just as soon as his fingers wrapped around the twine collar and a shout rose up in the crowd. It was an angry unintelligible cry, sounding vaguely familiar to Hazael, but it was not something that he could understand. For good reason too as it was in a tongue that he could not understand. A language that was no longer welcome in Judea following the edict of the council of elders.
“Get your hands off of my dog![/i]”
Hazael turned at the noise, unable to understand the words because of their greek origin just as a burly man dressed in a military tunic parted his way through the crowd on the temple steps; making a beeline straight for Hazael. The young man’s eyes widened in shock at the sight of the new arrival. It was painfully obvious that this man was Greek from his lighter hair and shield strapped to his back. He was dressed in vibrant shades of red and gold, colors that were not commonly seen in Judea as they were too gaudy for most citizens’ tastes, but not for their guests.
This man was a Greek soldier and he had just wandered into the moving party that he was not invited to.
Not understanding what was happening, but understanding that it had something to do with the dog, Hazael left the twine collar go and instinctively tried to back up as the battle-hardened man rounded on him, shouting words he couldn’t comprehend. However, Hazael was not as quick as the Greek and the next thing he knew he had this soldier shouting in his face, screaming about going near his dog and the dirty trick the Judeans were doing by waiting for all the greeks to leave before they kicked them out. Hazael himself had done nothing wrong, but now he had become the proverbial punching bag for this greek man’s anger and it seemed to be that there was no escape with a temple wall at his back and an angry man in his face.
Hazael was clearly going to need some help getting out of this one, but would anyone stand up for the Israeli who had been seen with the dogs that had started this whole mess?
The dog had missed him but someone else did not. He was nearly tipped off his feet and only just managed to keep himself upright. Whirling around, he found it was Selima of Simeon who’d bounced into him. Amiti’s eyes instantly went over her head in search of her husband but he was not to be seen at that precise moment. Neither was her son. So, that meant they were here, then. Good. Amiti wanted Simeon to witness the foolishness of this. He liked to pride himself that he and Simeon agreed in almost all matters, but even Amiti was not fool enough to believe people were of the same mind in everything. Unfortunately, this was a very large thing and he was just as unhappy now as he had been on the day he’d been outvoted on the council.
His eyes dropped back down as Selima took a step away, head bowed, muttering that she should have been looking where she was going. That much was obvious, especially in this crowd but Amiti was not about to lecture the wife of a Mahnheeg. She wasn’t above him, exactly, but she wasn’t not, either. Perhaps if she’d been doing something morally wrong, he’d have spoken to Simeon about it. As it stood, he was more than willing to let the matter drop, as there were far more pressing concerns.
“Think on it no more,” he said distantly, giving one last look around for Simeon before giving up.
“There’s just… so much to see right now.” That was an understatement. The crowds positively seethed. But, that’s when he heard shouting. Looking over, he saw the last thing he wanted to see: a Greek soldier, and having hold of a street urchin, no less. Thaddeus was somewhere thereabouts but not looking as though he was going to intervene.
Amiti’s prime concern was the soldier’s presence. It was so...odd. Why was he not with his fellows? The Greeks should have been miles from here. This one’s very existence was both unwanted and unlikely. It made Amiti vastly uneasy and he inclined his head to Selima, motioning her to follow. Weaving his way through the crowd, he came level with the soldier.
“Unhand the boy,” Amiti said in Greek to make sure he was understood. The soldier glared around, found Amiti, and then tossed Hazael to the ground, now that he had someone who was in charge to fight with.
”What’s all this, then?” the soldier demanded. He was a common foot soldier, no one of rank. And he smelled like he’d been drinking. That accounted for him being here so inconveniently. He’d been out having too good a time and missed leaving with the rest of the group.
“You’re being expelled from Judea,” Amiti said, though he felt that might not have been the time. This turned out to be the case, of course. No sooner had the words left his mouth, than the soldier hauled off and slugged him straight in the face. Amiti dropped like a stone, blood spurting from his open mouth. Well. That could have gone a bit better...
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The dog had missed him but someone else did not. He was nearly tipped off his feet and only just managed to keep himself upright. Whirling around, he found it was Selima of Simeon who’d bounced into him. Amiti’s eyes instantly went over her head in search of her husband but he was not to be seen at that precise moment. Neither was her son. So, that meant they were here, then. Good. Amiti wanted Simeon to witness the foolishness of this. He liked to pride himself that he and Simeon agreed in almost all matters, but even Amiti was not fool enough to believe people were of the same mind in everything. Unfortunately, this was a very large thing and he was just as unhappy now as he had been on the day he’d been outvoted on the council.
His eyes dropped back down as Selima took a step away, head bowed, muttering that she should have been looking where she was going. That much was obvious, especially in this crowd but Amiti was not about to lecture the wife of a Mahnheeg. She wasn’t above him, exactly, but she wasn’t not, either. Perhaps if she’d been doing something morally wrong, he’d have spoken to Simeon about it. As it stood, he was more than willing to let the matter drop, as there were far more pressing concerns.
“Think on it no more,” he said distantly, giving one last look around for Simeon before giving up.
“There’s just… so much to see right now.” That was an understatement. The crowds positively seethed. But, that’s when he heard shouting. Looking over, he saw the last thing he wanted to see: a Greek soldier, and having hold of a street urchin, no less. Thaddeus was somewhere thereabouts but not looking as though he was going to intervene.
Amiti’s prime concern was the soldier’s presence. It was so...odd. Why was he not with his fellows? The Greeks should have been miles from here. This one’s very existence was both unwanted and unlikely. It made Amiti vastly uneasy and he inclined his head to Selima, motioning her to follow. Weaving his way through the crowd, he came level with the soldier.
“Unhand the boy,” Amiti said in Greek to make sure he was understood. The soldier glared around, found Amiti, and then tossed Hazael to the ground, now that he had someone who was in charge to fight with.
”What’s all this, then?” the soldier demanded. He was a common foot soldier, no one of rank. And he smelled like he’d been drinking. That accounted for him being here so inconveniently. He’d been out having too good a time and missed leaving with the rest of the group.
“You’re being expelled from Judea,” Amiti said, though he felt that might not have been the time. This turned out to be the case, of course. No sooner had the words left his mouth, than the soldier hauled off and slugged him straight in the face. Amiti dropped like a stone, blood spurting from his open mouth. Well. That could have gone a bit better...
The dog had missed him but someone else did not. He was nearly tipped off his feet and only just managed to keep himself upright. Whirling around, he found it was Selima of Simeon who’d bounced into him. Amiti’s eyes instantly went over her head in search of her husband but he was not to be seen at that precise moment. Neither was her son. So, that meant they were here, then. Good. Amiti wanted Simeon to witness the foolishness of this. He liked to pride himself that he and Simeon agreed in almost all matters, but even Amiti was not fool enough to believe people were of the same mind in everything. Unfortunately, this was a very large thing and he was just as unhappy now as he had been on the day he’d been outvoted on the council.
His eyes dropped back down as Selima took a step away, head bowed, muttering that she should have been looking where she was going. That much was obvious, especially in this crowd but Amiti was not about to lecture the wife of a Mahnheeg. She wasn’t above him, exactly, but she wasn’t not, either. Perhaps if she’d been doing something morally wrong, he’d have spoken to Simeon about it. As it stood, he was more than willing to let the matter drop, as there were far more pressing concerns.
“Think on it no more,” he said distantly, giving one last look around for Simeon before giving up.
“There’s just… so much to see right now.” That was an understatement. The crowds positively seethed. But, that’s when he heard shouting. Looking over, he saw the last thing he wanted to see: a Greek soldier, and having hold of a street urchin, no less. Thaddeus was somewhere thereabouts but not looking as though he was going to intervene.
Amiti’s prime concern was the soldier’s presence. It was so...odd. Why was he not with his fellows? The Greeks should have been miles from here. This one’s very existence was both unwanted and unlikely. It made Amiti vastly uneasy and he inclined his head to Selima, motioning her to follow. Weaving his way through the crowd, he came level with the soldier.
“Unhand the boy,” Amiti said in Greek to make sure he was understood. The soldier glared around, found Amiti, and then tossed Hazael to the ground, now that he had someone who was in charge to fight with.
”What’s all this, then?” the soldier demanded. He was a common foot soldier, no one of rank. And he smelled like he’d been drinking. That accounted for him being here so inconveniently. He’d been out having too good a time and missed leaving with the rest of the group.
“You’re being expelled from Judea,” Amiti said, though he felt that might not have been the time. This turned out to be the case, of course. No sooner had the words left his mouth, than the soldier hauled off and slugged him straight in the face. Amiti dropped like a stone, blood spurting from his open mouth. Well. That could have gone a bit better...
For a brief second, so very brief, Selima had thought: Perhaps Simeon was right after all… For a Greek had made its way, drunk, into the fray and grabbed a boy. Amiti went to assist, to presumably diffuse the situation. Instead, he was now a crumpled heap with blood spewing from his mouth.
Was it something he said?
Selima decided that it didn’t matter what Amiti had said. Violence was never the answer and the exact reason that the Greeks were getting thrown from Judea, to begin with. Later Selima might question what the Judeas were to do if the war made it to their lands anyway. After all, banishing away the Greeks, does not rid the world of violence. And those who choose to live like that are not rational or respectful, so there is no guarantee that they would listen to the rules and respect their wishes.
But that was later, and this was now. Selima rushed over to Amiti. She wasn’t very fond of the man, but he was still deserving of much better treatment than the Greek had given him. As she crouched down to Amiti to offer her help, the Jerusalem guards started to drag the Greek away. For a moment Selima scanned to see if it was her son dealing with the Greek. She’d hate for him to get involved with this. He fought against them like some sort of barbarian, which he was, shouting drunk Greek that sounded an awful lot like slurs.
Selima’s eyes went to the boy on the ground and to Amiti himself. “Are both of you alright? Shall I run to fetch a healer?” She asked though she directed that second question to Amiti himself. The blood coming from him made Selima’s stomach turn. How unnecessary this was. Even if people could be… mildly infuriating, Selima had learned kindness was a better weapon that allowed you to keep your moral high ground. The moment you throw a punch, or a kick, or a slap you’ve lowered yourself in the eyes of society and Yahweh. Though perhaps Selima… felt stronger on that subject than most. A topic for another day.
Selima had no extra cloth on her except for the scarf on her head, and she was not about to offer that to Amiti. “Amiti, try to sit up, dear,” Selima instructed gently. The one thing Selima did have was her waterskin. It was half empty, she had been meaning to fill it when there was extra time, but for now, it would do. “Here, drink the rest of this. I’ll fetch more should you need it.”
Her gaze now went to the stranger with the dog. “And you, sit up too. Slowly. Did you hit your head?” She didn’t see blood coming from him. He was thrown, not punched. But still, Selima knew well that just because injuries weren’t immediately apparent didn’t mean there weren’t there. They could be hidden, invisible from prying eyes. Selima offered the stranger a smile, “I would be happy to fetch you water as well.”
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
For a brief second, so very brief, Selima had thought: Perhaps Simeon was right after all… For a Greek had made its way, drunk, into the fray and grabbed a boy. Amiti went to assist, to presumably diffuse the situation. Instead, he was now a crumpled heap with blood spewing from his mouth.
Was it something he said?
Selima decided that it didn’t matter what Amiti had said. Violence was never the answer and the exact reason that the Greeks were getting thrown from Judea, to begin with. Later Selima might question what the Judeas were to do if the war made it to their lands anyway. After all, banishing away the Greeks, does not rid the world of violence. And those who choose to live like that are not rational or respectful, so there is no guarantee that they would listen to the rules and respect their wishes.
But that was later, and this was now. Selima rushed over to Amiti. She wasn’t very fond of the man, but he was still deserving of much better treatment than the Greek had given him. As she crouched down to Amiti to offer her help, the Jerusalem guards started to drag the Greek away. For a moment Selima scanned to see if it was her son dealing with the Greek. She’d hate for him to get involved with this. He fought against them like some sort of barbarian, which he was, shouting drunk Greek that sounded an awful lot like slurs.
Selima’s eyes went to the boy on the ground and to Amiti himself. “Are both of you alright? Shall I run to fetch a healer?” She asked though she directed that second question to Amiti himself. The blood coming from him made Selima’s stomach turn. How unnecessary this was. Even if people could be… mildly infuriating, Selima had learned kindness was a better weapon that allowed you to keep your moral high ground. The moment you throw a punch, or a kick, or a slap you’ve lowered yourself in the eyes of society and Yahweh. Though perhaps Selima… felt stronger on that subject than most. A topic for another day.
Selima had no extra cloth on her except for the scarf on her head, and she was not about to offer that to Amiti. “Amiti, try to sit up, dear,” Selima instructed gently. The one thing Selima did have was her waterskin. It was half empty, she had been meaning to fill it when there was extra time, but for now, it would do. “Here, drink the rest of this. I’ll fetch more should you need it.”
Her gaze now went to the stranger with the dog. “And you, sit up too. Slowly. Did you hit your head?” She didn’t see blood coming from him. He was thrown, not punched. But still, Selima knew well that just because injuries weren’t immediately apparent didn’t mean there weren’t there. They could be hidden, invisible from prying eyes. Selima offered the stranger a smile, “I would be happy to fetch you water as well.”
For a brief second, so very brief, Selima had thought: Perhaps Simeon was right after all… For a Greek had made its way, drunk, into the fray and grabbed a boy. Amiti went to assist, to presumably diffuse the situation. Instead, he was now a crumpled heap with blood spewing from his mouth.
Was it something he said?
Selima decided that it didn’t matter what Amiti had said. Violence was never the answer and the exact reason that the Greeks were getting thrown from Judea, to begin with. Later Selima might question what the Judeas were to do if the war made it to their lands anyway. After all, banishing away the Greeks, does not rid the world of violence. And those who choose to live like that are not rational or respectful, so there is no guarantee that they would listen to the rules and respect their wishes.
But that was later, and this was now. Selima rushed over to Amiti. She wasn’t very fond of the man, but he was still deserving of much better treatment than the Greek had given him. As she crouched down to Amiti to offer her help, the Jerusalem guards started to drag the Greek away. For a moment Selima scanned to see if it was her son dealing with the Greek. She’d hate for him to get involved with this. He fought against them like some sort of barbarian, which he was, shouting drunk Greek that sounded an awful lot like slurs.
Selima’s eyes went to the boy on the ground and to Amiti himself. “Are both of you alright? Shall I run to fetch a healer?” She asked though she directed that second question to Amiti himself. The blood coming from him made Selima’s stomach turn. How unnecessary this was. Even if people could be… mildly infuriating, Selima had learned kindness was a better weapon that allowed you to keep your moral high ground. The moment you throw a punch, or a kick, or a slap you’ve lowered yourself in the eyes of society and Yahweh. Though perhaps Selima… felt stronger on that subject than most. A topic for another day.
Selima had no extra cloth on her except for the scarf on her head, and she was not about to offer that to Amiti. “Amiti, try to sit up, dear,” Selima instructed gently. The one thing Selima did have was her waterskin. It was half empty, she had been meaning to fill it when there was extra time, but for now, it would do. “Here, drink the rest of this. I’ll fetch more should you need it.”
Her gaze now went to the stranger with the dog. “And you, sit up too. Slowly. Did you hit your head?” She didn’t see blood coming from him. He was thrown, not punched. But still, Selima knew well that just because injuries weren’t immediately apparent didn’t mean there weren’t there. They could be hidden, invisible from prying eyes. Selima offered the stranger a smile, “I would be happy to fetch you water as well.”
Grecian soldiers had been occupying their lands for many years now. It was something most Judeans were unhappy with and the Council had heard much of it over the years. Although it was not something Abir thought about every day, he was sure the same couldn’t be said for those in Israel. And every time the Council held a session in Israel or that Abir visited, he was reminded of strangers in their lands. Strangers were something that didn’t bother him. After all, the scriptures said to welcome them. Foreign soldiers on the other hand were a different story.
Abir supposed he was a soldier of sorts himself, though had certainly never been to war like the Greek soldiers had. However, he did often see more violence than most Judeans in his duties as a City Protector. Less so now that he had taken on more of an administrative role, but Abir still got out with his men as much as possible. He considered it essential to understanding what exactly it was that his men were experiencing on the streets as well as those who lived in his city. That was the best way for him to understand the people he was responsible for.
Although his family was not directly responsible for the people in the city of Israel, Abir and his father were still there as part of the Council. That the drums of war would soon be calling away these men had been apparent for some time now. But when it was clear it was happening, the Council had come together to see their new decree put into action. They would close the gates and bar the Grecians from every returning to their land. Abir had mixed feelings on the matter—these men had lived her for a decade. They had made their lives here now. They weren’t all bad. Who were Judeans to say they were suddenly unwelcome? Did that make them any better than these so called oppressors?
Of course, that was all Abir’s personal opinion, not to be shared aloud. His father was firmly of the mind that the Greeks needed to leave and Abir didn’t dare vote against him. Nor did he dare deny the use of his protectors to help drive the Greeks out of the city. Abir knew if he was to say no, his father would find a way to make it happen anyway. In this case, Abir could at least oversee a humane exodus. He could control as much as he could.
Abir stood with one of the city protectors, watching as the streets slowly filled with action, people taking the Council’s orders in different ways. Some were celebrating, others were actively helping others to pack. Few were protesting, but Abir wasn’t surprised by that. He was expecting more trouble later, when the Greeks returned.
He should have known better not that trouble would wait to come to them. A messenger sprinted up, saying that Abir was needed—there was a Greek who had not left with the others. He was causing trouble and a member of the Council had been hurt! Abir wondered who it might be that had got caught up, but would see soon enough, rushing to find out what was happening.
When he arrived, Abir took in the scene quickly, glad to note that some of his men had hold of the Greek man that was reportedly the cause of the problems. One glance at the man and it was clear that he was drunk. That was no way for a solider to behave, but perhaps he was coping with the thought of war. Abir would not judge so quickly, but he would not tolerate such violence either. He wanted to have a word with the man, but the sight of his mother and Amiti on the ground was more distracting.
Abir gestured to his men to wait with the soldier, rushing forward, quickly realizing that it was Amiti who was hurt, not his mother. Still, what was she doing, out like this? She should be inside, where it was safer. He beckoned his messenger to follow him. “Call for a healer,” he instructed, unsure what was needed, but wanting to be safe.
“What happened here, mother?” Abir asked, moving to the young man who was on the ground, next to a barking dog. He held his hand out carefully, approaching calmly and steadily as to not frighten the creature anymore. It seemed to recognize that he was a friend and stopped barking. Abir gave it a gentle pat, crouching down lend a hand to it’s owner. “Can you sit up?” he asked, offering to help.
“How is Amiti?” he asked, “I’ve sent for a healer.”
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Grecian soldiers had been occupying their lands for many years now. It was something most Judeans were unhappy with and the Council had heard much of it over the years. Although it was not something Abir thought about every day, he was sure the same couldn’t be said for those in Israel. And every time the Council held a session in Israel or that Abir visited, he was reminded of strangers in their lands. Strangers were something that didn’t bother him. After all, the scriptures said to welcome them. Foreign soldiers on the other hand were a different story.
Abir supposed he was a soldier of sorts himself, though had certainly never been to war like the Greek soldiers had. However, he did often see more violence than most Judeans in his duties as a City Protector. Less so now that he had taken on more of an administrative role, but Abir still got out with his men as much as possible. He considered it essential to understanding what exactly it was that his men were experiencing on the streets as well as those who lived in his city. That was the best way for him to understand the people he was responsible for.
Although his family was not directly responsible for the people in the city of Israel, Abir and his father were still there as part of the Council. That the drums of war would soon be calling away these men had been apparent for some time now. But when it was clear it was happening, the Council had come together to see their new decree put into action. They would close the gates and bar the Grecians from every returning to their land. Abir had mixed feelings on the matter—these men had lived her for a decade. They had made their lives here now. They weren’t all bad. Who were Judeans to say they were suddenly unwelcome? Did that make them any better than these so called oppressors?
Of course, that was all Abir’s personal opinion, not to be shared aloud. His father was firmly of the mind that the Greeks needed to leave and Abir didn’t dare vote against him. Nor did he dare deny the use of his protectors to help drive the Greeks out of the city. Abir knew if he was to say no, his father would find a way to make it happen anyway. In this case, Abir could at least oversee a humane exodus. He could control as much as he could.
Abir stood with one of the city protectors, watching as the streets slowly filled with action, people taking the Council’s orders in different ways. Some were celebrating, others were actively helping others to pack. Few were protesting, but Abir wasn’t surprised by that. He was expecting more trouble later, when the Greeks returned.
He should have known better not that trouble would wait to come to them. A messenger sprinted up, saying that Abir was needed—there was a Greek who had not left with the others. He was causing trouble and a member of the Council had been hurt! Abir wondered who it might be that had got caught up, but would see soon enough, rushing to find out what was happening.
When he arrived, Abir took in the scene quickly, glad to note that some of his men had hold of the Greek man that was reportedly the cause of the problems. One glance at the man and it was clear that he was drunk. That was no way for a solider to behave, but perhaps he was coping with the thought of war. Abir would not judge so quickly, but he would not tolerate such violence either. He wanted to have a word with the man, but the sight of his mother and Amiti on the ground was more distracting.
Abir gestured to his men to wait with the soldier, rushing forward, quickly realizing that it was Amiti who was hurt, not his mother. Still, what was she doing, out like this? She should be inside, where it was safer. He beckoned his messenger to follow him. “Call for a healer,” he instructed, unsure what was needed, but wanting to be safe.
“What happened here, mother?” Abir asked, moving to the young man who was on the ground, next to a barking dog. He held his hand out carefully, approaching calmly and steadily as to not frighten the creature anymore. It seemed to recognize that he was a friend and stopped barking. Abir gave it a gentle pat, crouching down lend a hand to it’s owner. “Can you sit up?” he asked, offering to help.
“How is Amiti?” he asked, “I’ve sent for a healer.”
Grecian soldiers had been occupying their lands for many years now. It was something most Judeans were unhappy with and the Council had heard much of it over the years. Although it was not something Abir thought about every day, he was sure the same couldn’t be said for those in Israel. And every time the Council held a session in Israel or that Abir visited, he was reminded of strangers in their lands. Strangers were something that didn’t bother him. After all, the scriptures said to welcome them. Foreign soldiers on the other hand were a different story.
Abir supposed he was a soldier of sorts himself, though had certainly never been to war like the Greek soldiers had. However, he did often see more violence than most Judeans in his duties as a City Protector. Less so now that he had taken on more of an administrative role, but Abir still got out with his men as much as possible. He considered it essential to understanding what exactly it was that his men were experiencing on the streets as well as those who lived in his city. That was the best way for him to understand the people he was responsible for.
Although his family was not directly responsible for the people in the city of Israel, Abir and his father were still there as part of the Council. That the drums of war would soon be calling away these men had been apparent for some time now. But when it was clear it was happening, the Council had come together to see their new decree put into action. They would close the gates and bar the Grecians from every returning to their land. Abir had mixed feelings on the matter—these men had lived her for a decade. They had made their lives here now. They weren’t all bad. Who were Judeans to say they were suddenly unwelcome? Did that make them any better than these so called oppressors?
Of course, that was all Abir’s personal opinion, not to be shared aloud. His father was firmly of the mind that the Greeks needed to leave and Abir didn’t dare vote against him. Nor did he dare deny the use of his protectors to help drive the Greeks out of the city. Abir knew if he was to say no, his father would find a way to make it happen anyway. In this case, Abir could at least oversee a humane exodus. He could control as much as he could.
Abir stood with one of the city protectors, watching as the streets slowly filled with action, people taking the Council’s orders in different ways. Some were celebrating, others were actively helping others to pack. Few were protesting, but Abir wasn’t surprised by that. He was expecting more trouble later, when the Greeks returned.
He should have known better not that trouble would wait to come to them. A messenger sprinted up, saying that Abir was needed—there was a Greek who had not left with the others. He was causing trouble and a member of the Council had been hurt! Abir wondered who it might be that had got caught up, but would see soon enough, rushing to find out what was happening.
When he arrived, Abir took in the scene quickly, glad to note that some of his men had hold of the Greek man that was reportedly the cause of the problems. One glance at the man and it was clear that he was drunk. That was no way for a solider to behave, but perhaps he was coping with the thought of war. Abir would not judge so quickly, but he would not tolerate such violence either. He wanted to have a word with the man, but the sight of his mother and Amiti on the ground was more distracting.
Abir gestured to his men to wait with the soldier, rushing forward, quickly realizing that it was Amiti who was hurt, not his mother. Still, what was she doing, out like this? She should be inside, where it was safer. He beckoned his messenger to follow him. “Call for a healer,” he instructed, unsure what was needed, but wanting to be safe.
“What happened here, mother?” Abir asked, moving to the young man who was on the ground, next to a barking dog. He held his hand out carefully, approaching calmly and steadily as to not frighten the creature anymore. It seemed to recognize that he was a friend and stopped barking. Abir gave it a gentle pat, crouching down lend a hand to it’s owner. “Can you sit up?” he asked, offering to help.
“How is Amiti?” he asked, “I’ve sent for a healer.”
