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Rumours have reached the ears of Greek military officials that war is coming. A less than satisfactory meeting with a Egyptian embassy was held in Taengea just a week ago and Judea wait with bated breath. If Egypt decide to declare war on Greece, the Taengean forces in Israel must be ready to respond with immediate effect. As such, the men have begun to make encampments outside the Israeli city walls. Whilst their wives, children and homes remain inside the city, in their allocated quarter, if the Egyptian soldiers of the south-west are due to approach, the Taengeans, with their small supervisory unit would need to be ready within the hour. As such, all able bodied men are now to set up camp, as if miles away from their homes, just outside the walls, where they can rally at a single call of the horn and the gates of the city can be sealed shut to protect those within...
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Rumours have reached the ears of Greek military officials that war is coming. A less than satisfactory meeting with a Egyptian embassy was held in Taengea just a week ago and Judea wait with bated breath. If Egypt decide to declare war on Greece, the Taengean forces in Israel must be ready to respond with immediate effect. As such, the men have begun to make encampments outside the Israeli city walls. Whilst their wives, children and homes remain inside the city, in their allocated quarter, if the Egyptian soldiers of the south-west are due to approach, the Taengeans, with their small supervisory unit would need to be ready within the hour. As such, all able bodied men are now to set up camp, as if miles away from their homes, just outside the walls, where they can rally at a single call of the horn and the gates of the city can be sealed shut to protect those within...
Take Up Arms Event - Judea
Rumours have reached the ears of Greek military officials that war is coming. A less than satisfactory meeting with a Egyptian embassy was held in Taengea just a week ago and Judea wait with bated breath. If Egypt decide to declare war on Greece, the Taengean forces in Israel must be ready to respond with immediate effect. As such, the men have begun to make encampments outside the Israeli city walls. Whilst their wives, children and homes remain inside the city, in their allocated quarter, if the Egyptian soldiers of the south-west are due to approach, the Taengeans, with their small supervisory unit would need to be ready within the hour. As such, all able bodied men are now to set up camp, as if miles away from their homes, just outside the walls, where they can rally at a single call of the horn and the gates of the city can be sealed shut to protect those within...
Eight years ago, Hannah had discovered the bizarre feeling that arose from being a stranger in a strange land. A Greek born merchant's daughter of more wealth than many nobles could lay claim to, she had been positively garish in how much she stood out among the calm and moderately dress Judean people.
She had never before felt out of place and had quickly had to become used to being looked at.
What she discovered now, however, was an even stranger sensation: the feeling of detachment from something that - by all rights - you should feel at home in.
Eight years ago, Hannah - or Hypatia has she had gone by then - had known that she was different. In the same way that the Hebrews did not understand her, her manners or her dress, she had been just as thrown by their own. She had been so very able to see the distinctive difference between the two cultures and peoples.
Now, however...
Hannah looked around at the Taengean encampment on the edge of the city of Israel. The men lived inside the walls but they had been ordered to camp outside of the buildings of the settlement, in order to be able to pack up their things and march out at the slightest sign of Egypt violating the southern and western most Judean border. Even if Egypt never ventured that far the men that she was looking at would still see battle. They would be sent across the border themselves in due time as a part of the onslaught against Egyptian forces by the Greeks.
For that is what these men were: Greek. Like she was born to be.
And that was the cause of the strange sense of rejection in the pit of her belly. Here she was, dressed as a Judean, wearing the clothing of a married Hebrew woman, the soft necklace hidden by her mitpahath but softly cool against her skin displaying her faith as Jewish. For all intents and purposes, she was Hebrew. Yet, she wasn't. Not according to the Judean people.
And yet here she stood among the Greeks... and she felt even more of place. Mostly able to fit in through her understanding of their language, their clothes, their gestures and mannerisms. The way she spotted several men bowed over a small statue of Ares.
It created a sense of familiarity. Of nostalgia.
But it was something she couldn't quite hold onto long enough to turn into a feeling of belonging.
As if she knew all of the steps to a dance the people around her were performing and yet couldn't quite seem to get her feet to land in time with everyone else's.
Her arms full of freshly laundered tunics, Hannah gave herself a mental shake and reminded herself of the job at hand. She was here to deliver the tunics to a Captain Legos and then return to her master. Dilly-dallying over nostalgic feelings of loneliness was hardly the way to go about it...
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Aug 31, 2019 12:32:39 GMT
Posted In Take Up Arms on Aug 31, 2019 12:32:39 GMT
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Eight years ago, Hannah had discovered the bizarre feeling that arose from being a stranger in a strange land. A Greek born merchant's daughter of more wealth than many nobles could lay claim to, she had been positively garish in how much she stood out among the calm and moderately dress Judean people.
She had never before felt out of place and had quickly had to become used to being looked at.
What she discovered now, however, was an even stranger sensation: the feeling of detachment from something that - by all rights - you should feel at home in.
Eight years ago, Hannah - or Hypatia has she had gone by then - had known that she was different. In the same way that the Hebrews did not understand her, her manners or her dress, she had been just as thrown by their own. She had been so very able to see the distinctive difference between the two cultures and peoples.
Now, however...
Hannah looked around at the Taengean encampment on the edge of the city of Israel. The men lived inside the walls but they had been ordered to camp outside of the buildings of the settlement, in order to be able to pack up their things and march out at the slightest sign of Egypt violating the southern and western most Judean border. Even if Egypt never ventured that far the men that she was looking at would still see battle. They would be sent across the border themselves in due time as a part of the onslaught against Egyptian forces by the Greeks.
For that is what these men were: Greek. Like she was born to be.
And that was the cause of the strange sense of rejection in the pit of her belly. Here she was, dressed as a Judean, wearing the clothing of a married Hebrew woman, the soft necklace hidden by her mitpahath but softly cool against her skin displaying her faith as Jewish. For all intents and purposes, she was Hebrew. Yet, she wasn't. Not according to the Judean people.
And yet here she stood among the Greeks... and she felt even more of place. Mostly able to fit in through her understanding of their language, their clothes, their gestures and mannerisms. The way she spotted several men bowed over a small statue of Ares.
It created a sense of familiarity. Of nostalgia.
But it was something she couldn't quite hold onto long enough to turn into a feeling of belonging.
As if she knew all of the steps to a dance the people around her were performing and yet couldn't quite seem to get her feet to land in time with everyone else's.
Her arms full of freshly laundered tunics, Hannah gave herself a mental shake and reminded herself of the job at hand. She was here to deliver the tunics to a Captain Legos and then return to her master. Dilly-dallying over nostalgic feelings of loneliness was hardly the way to go about it...
Eight years ago, Hannah had discovered the bizarre feeling that arose from being a stranger in a strange land. A Greek born merchant's daughter of more wealth than many nobles could lay claim to, she had been positively garish in how much she stood out among the calm and moderately dress Judean people.
She had never before felt out of place and had quickly had to become used to being looked at.
What she discovered now, however, was an even stranger sensation: the feeling of detachment from something that - by all rights - you should feel at home in.
Eight years ago, Hannah - or Hypatia has she had gone by then - had known that she was different. In the same way that the Hebrews did not understand her, her manners or her dress, she had been just as thrown by their own. She had been so very able to see the distinctive difference between the two cultures and peoples.
Now, however...
Hannah looked around at the Taengean encampment on the edge of the city of Israel. The men lived inside the walls but they had been ordered to camp outside of the buildings of the settlement, in order to be able to pack up their things and march out at the slightest sign of Egypt violating the southern and western most Judean border. Even if Egypt never ventured that far the men that she was looking at would still see battle. They would be sent across the border themselves in due time as a part of the onslaught against Egyptian forces by the Greeks.
For that is what these men were: Greek. Like she was born to be.
And that was the cause of the strange sense of rejection in the pit of her belly. Here she was, dressed as a Judean, wearing the clothing of a married Hebrew woman, the soft necklace hidden by her mitpahath but softly cool against her skin displaying her faith as Jewish. For all intents and purposes, she was Hebrew. Yet, she wasn't. Not according to the Judean people.
And yet here she stood among the Greeks... and she felt even more of place. Mostly able to fit in through her understanding of their language, their clothes, their gestures and mannerisms. The way she spotted several men bowed over a small statue of Ares.
It created a sense of familiarity. Of nostalgia.
But it was something she couldn't quite hold onto long enough to turn into a feeling of belonging.
As if she knew all of the steps to a dance the people around her were performing and yet couldn't quite seem to get her feet to land in time with everyone else's.
Her arms full of freshly laundered tunics, Hannah gave herself a mental shake and reminded herself of the job at hand. She was here to deliver the tunics to a Captain Legos and then return to her master. Dilly-dallying over nostalgic feelings of loneliness was hardly the way to go about it...
No one could blame him for being curious. Thaddeus had heard the Taegeans were gathered outside the walls of the city, ready to strike whenever the Egyptians came. He knew they would be protected, and Thaddeus could sigh in relief at the idea of it. Overall, Thaddeus didn’t agree with the idea of war, unless it was necessary. The defense was needed in times of grave danger, but… *attacking* anyone without a good reason did not sit well with the man. Not that he would be a person to outright protest if something came about, but he certainly wouldn’t trust anyone. Right now though, he was mostly an observer, watching the soldiers preparing for anything to come their way. He glanced over their greek armor, and listened to their language as if they were from not from this world at all. He had seen greeks before, but not so many at one time and to be honest, he wasn’t sure what exactly he thought about them. He was grateful to have them around, but at the same time, they were foreigners. They would always be foreigners, and nothing could change that. Once the war- or whatever this was, was finished, the greeks would go home, and that would be that. They were useful when needed, but they would have to leave some time or another.
He was observing so much that he had the sudden urge to want to do something- at least until things started happening, and then he would go back to the market or to do some work. For now, he had the time, and Thaddeus looked around. He didn’t really see much he could do, so he went for the second-best thing- socializing. He noticed a woman walking- a slave carrying some tunics. Unlike his brother, who probably would have ignored or maybe not have even seen her in the first place, Thaddeus started walking right towards Hannah. He, of course, had really no reason to walk over to her, but he was interested in what she was doing, and maybe she knew a little bit more in exactly what the soldiers were doing. Information, that was all.
The Judean man smiled in Hannah’s direction, moved closer to her so that she would notice him. “Mind some company?” He asked, his voice soft and friendly. He hoped she wasn’t in a giant rush to do something. He noticed some tunics touching the ground and moved to help her get the tunics more settled in her arms. “I don’t think anyone would want dirty tunics. Let me help.” He laughed a bit, trying to be light-hearted. He reached to wrap the tunics more solidly, thinking clean tunics, in this case, were more important than how it looked to bystanders when he helped a slave.
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Jan 17, 2020 0:55:33 GMT
Posted In Take Up Arms on Jan 17, 2020 0:55:33 GMT
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No one could blame him for being curious. Thaddeus had heard the Taegeans were gathered outside the walls of the city, ready to strike whenever the Egyptians came. He knew they would be protected, and Thaddeus could sigh in relief at the idea of it. Overall, Thaddeus didn’t agree with the idea of war, unless it was necessary. The defense was needed in times of grave danger, but… *attacking* anyone without a good reason did not sit well with the man. Not that he would be a person to outright protest if something came about, but he certainly wouldn’t trust anyone. Right now though, he was mostly an observer, watching the soldiers preparing for anything to come their way. He glanced over their greek armor, and listened to their language as if they were from not from this world at all. He had seen greeks before, but not so many at one time and to be honest, he wasn’t sure what exactly he thought about them. He was grateful to have them around, but at the same time, they were foreigners. They would always be foreigners, and nothing could change that. Once the war- or whatever this was, was finished, the greeks would go home, and that would be that. They were useful when needed, but they would have to leave some time or another.
He was observing so much that he had the sudden urge to want to do something- at least until things started happening, and then he would go back to the market or to do some work. For now, he had the time, and Thaddeus looked around. He didn’t really see much he could do, so he went for the second-best thing- socializing. He noticed a woman walking- a slave carrying some tunics. Unlike his brother, who probably would have ignored or maybe not have even seen her in the first place, Thaddeus started walking right towards Hannah. He, of course, had really no reason to walk over to her, but he was interested in what she was doing, and maybe she knew a little bit more in exactly what the soldiers were doing. Information, that was all.
The Judean man smiled in Hannah’s direction, moved closer to her so that she would notice him. “Mind some company?” He asked, his voice soft and friendly. He hoped she wasn’t in a giant rush to do something. He noticed some tunics touching the ground and moved to help her get the tunics more settled in her arms. “I don’t think anyone would want dirty tunics. Let me help.” He laughed a bit, trying to be light-hearted. He reached to wrap the tunics more solidly, thinking clean tunics, in this case, were more important than how it looked to bystanders when he helped a slave.
No one could blame him for being curious. Thaddeus had heard the Taegeans were gathered outside the walls of the city, ready to strike whenever the Egyptians came. He knew they would be protected, and Thaddeus could sigh in relief at the idea of it. Overall, Thaddeus didn’t agree with the idea of war, unless it was necessary. The defense was needed in times of grave danger, but… *attacking* anyone without a good reason did not sit well with the man. Not that he would be a person to outright protest if something came about, but he certainly wouldn’t trust anyone. Right now though, he was mostly an observer, watching the soldiers preparing for anything to come their way. He glanced over their greek armor, and listened to their language as if they were from not from this world at all. He had seen greeks before, but not so many at one time and to be honest, he wasn’t sure what exactly he thought about them. He was grateful to have them around, but at the same time, they were foreigners. They would always be foreigners, and nothing could change that. Once the war- or whatever this was, was finished, the greeks would go home, and that would be that. They were useful when needed, but they would have to leave some time or another.
He was observing so much that he had the sudden urge to want to do something- at least until things started happening, and then he would go back to the market or to do some work. For now, he had the time, and Thaddeus looked around. He didn’t really see much he could do, so he went for the second-best thing- socializing. He noticed a woman walking- a slave carrying some tunics. Unlike his brother, who probably would have ignored or maybe not have even seen her in the first place, Thaddeus started walking right towards Hannah. He, of course, had really no reason to walk over to her, but he was interested in what she was doing, and maybe she knew a little bit more in exactly what the soldiers were doing. Information, that was all.
The Judean man smiled in Hannah’s direction, moved closer to her so that she would notice him. “Mind some company?” He asked, his voice soft and friendly. He hoped she wasn’t in a giant rush to do something. He noticed some tunics touching the ground and moved to help her get the tunics more settled in her arms. “I don’t think anyone would want dirty tunics. Let me help.” He laughed a bit, trying to be light-hearted. He reached to wrap the tunics more solidly, thinking clean tunics, in this case, were more important than how it looked to bystanders when he helped a slave.
Hannah was focused on the task at hand, all noise of the young man's approach hidden by the calls of Greek, the clanking of armour and the repairing of weaponry. She was forced to keep her eyes focused on the ground as the rocky, sandy earth was uneven and items were left in irregular pathways. Occasionally, a soldier would back up into her bath, nailing in a tent peg of his temporary home. A home he could replace, move and transfer when the men needed to move against the Egyptians to the south-west.
As a slave - a Hebrew slave as far as the Grecians were concerned with a single glance at her attire - Hannah was invisible to all. She was forced to side step and avoid others who might be in her way, knowing that, were they to collide, she would be the one punished for such a thing. That it would be her fault. Specifically, if such a man was injured.
Swallowing, Hannah turned her fear over in her mind and tried to swallow it down.
It was men like this that had given her the life she now had. Had ripped away that which she had once owned. Not the Judeans - not the Jews to whom Greeks had always looked down upon. But the Grecians. Her own people. They had seen her as a traitor to their lifestyle, had punished her for the apparently foolish decision to choose a protective man to love her and her then unborn child. They had taken that anger and they had executed it with frightening efficiency.
And now she was this. A slave amongst the people she had wished only to be an equal part of. A widow without a body to bury. A mother without a child to hold.
Feeling her breathing struggling to remain calm, her eyes stinging with emotion, Hannah was almost thankful for the sudden interruption that came in the soft and friendly voice of a young Judean man.
She hadn't seen him approach so she spun a little at his appearance, taking a hurried step backwards as if she feared being in the way of his path. It caused one of the tunics to unfold a little in her arms, the trailing hem brushing the ground.
Stopped in her dipping to catch it, Hannah's eyes turned wide behind her mitzpahath when the man - a noble by the looks of his clothing - bent to take up the trifle himself and reposition it in her arms.
"Todah." She murmured quietly in thanks, her tone a little surprised and sweetly soft. The air from her lips caused her headscarf to blow out a little from her face. She glanced about to see if his help had been spotted by any other Judeans or if they were safe from any judging eyes.
Not sure what else to say, as the task at hand was completed, Hannah bowed her head and dipped her knees. She didn't need to know that the man before her was the second son of an Elder, the brother to the man who had chastised her not so long ago, to know that he was of high birth within the Jewish world. Whilst all garments worn by the Hebrews were modest in style and specific in design, living among them for years brought with it a careful eye to noticing the smallest details - such as the finery with which the material was woven and sewn together. This man had money and was therefore her superior. She bowed low as she greeted him and did not leave until she was given permission to exit his presence.
"Shalom."
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Jan 23, 2020 12:44:34 GMT
Posted In Take Up Arms on Jan 23, 2020 12:44:34 GMT
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Hannah was focused on the task at hand, all noise of the young man's approach hidden by the calls of Greek, the clanking of armour and the repairing of weaponry. She was forced to keep her eyes focused on the ground as the rocky, sandy earth was uneven and items were left in irregular pathways. Occasionally, a soldier would back up into her bath, nailing in a tent peg of his temporary home. A home he could replace, move and transfer when the men needed to move against the Egyptians to the south-west.
As a slave - a Hebrew slave as far as the Grecians were concerned with a single glance at her attire - Hannah was invisible to all. She was forced to side step and avoid others who might be in her way, knowing that, were they to collide, she would be the one punished for such a thing. That it would be her fault. Specifically, if such a man was injured.
Swallowing, Hannah turned her fear over in her mind and tried to swallow it down.
It was men like this that had given her the life she now had. Had ripped away that which she had once owned. Not the Judeans - not the Jews to whom Greeks had always looked down upon. But the Grecians. Her own people. They had seen her as a traitor to their lifestyle, had punished her for the apparently foolish decision to choose a protective man to love her and her then unborn child. They had taken that anger and they had executed it with frightening efficiency.
And now she was this. A slave amongst the people she had wished only to be an equal part of. A widow without a body to bury. A mother without a child to hold.
Feeling her breathing struggling to remain calm, her eyes stinging with emotion, Hannah was almost thankful for the sudden interruption that came in the soft and friendly voice of a young Judean man.
She hadn't seen him approach so she spun a little at his appearance, taking a hurried step backwards as if she feared being in the way of his path. It caused one of the tunics to unfold a little in her arms, the trailing hem brushing the ground.
Stopped in her dipping to catch it, Hannah's eyes turned wide behind her mitzpahath when the man - a noble by the looks of his clothing - bent to take up the trifle himself and reposition it in her arms.
"Todah." She murmured quietly in thanks, her tone a little surprised and sweetly soft. The air from her lips caused her headscarf to blow out a little from her face. She glanced about to see if his help had been spotted by any other Judeans or if they were safe from any judging eyes.
Not sure what else to say, as the task at hand was completed, Hannah bowed her head and dipped her knees. She didn't need to know that the man before her was the second son of an Elder, the brother to the man who had chastised her not so long ago, to know that he was of high birth within the Jewish world. Whilst all garments worn by the Hebrews were modest in style and specific in design, living among them for years brought with it a careful eye to noticing the smallest details - such as the finery with which the material was woven and sewn together. This man had money and was therefore her superior. She bowed low as she greeted him and did not leave until she was given permission to exit his presence.
"Shalom."
Hannah was focused on the task at hand, all noise of the young man's approach hidden by the calls of Greek, the clanking of armour and the repairing of weaponry. She was forced to keep her eyes focused on the ground as the rocky, sandy earth was uneven and items were left in irregular pathways. Occasionally, a soldier would back up into her bath, nailing in a tent peg of his temporary home. A home he could replace, move and transfer when the men needed to move against the Egyptians to the south-west.
As a slave - a Hebrew slave as far as the Grecians were concerned with a single glance at her attire - Hannah was invisible to all. She was forced to side step and avoid others who might be in her way, knowing that, were they to collide, she would be the one punished for such a thing. That it would be her fault. Specifically, if such a man was injured.
Swallowing, Hannah turned her fear over in her mind and tried to swallow it down.
It was men like this that had given her the life she now had. Had ripped away that which she had once owned. Not the Judeans - not the Jews to whom Greeks had always looked down upon. But the Grecians. Her own people. They had seen her as a traitor to their lifestyle, had punished her for the apparently foolish decision to choose a protective man to love her and her then unborn child. They had taken that anger and they had executed it with frightening efficiency.
And now she was this. A slave amongst the people she had wished only to be an equal part of. A widow without a body to bury. A mother without a child to hold.
Feeling her breathing struggling to remain calm, her eyes stinging with emotion, Hannah was almost thankful for the sudden interruption that came in the soft and friendly voice of a young Judean man.
She hadn't seen him approach so she spun a little at his appearance, taking a hurried step backwards as if she feared being in the way of his path. It caused one of the tunics to unfold a little in her arms, the trailing hem brushing the ground.
Stopped in her dipping to catch it, Hannah's eyes turned wide behind her mitzpahath when the man - a noble by the looks of his clothing - bent to take up the trifle himself and reposition it in her arms.
"Todah." She murmured quietly in thanks, her tone a little surprised and sweetly soft. The air from her lips caused her headscarf to blow out a little from her face. She glanced about to see if his help had been spotted by any other Judeans or if they were safe from any judging eyes.
Not sure what else to say, as the task at hand was completed, Hannah bowed her head and dipped her knees. She didn't need to know that the man before her was the second son of an Elder, the brother to the man who had chastised her not so long ago, to know that he was of high birth within the Jewish world. Whilst all garments worn by the Hebrews were modest in style and specific in design, living among them for years brought with it a careful eye to noticing the smallest details - such as the finery with which the material was woven and sewn together. This man had money and was therefore her superior. She bowed low as she greeted him and did not leave until she was given permission to exit his presence.
"Shalom."
Curveball Take Up Arms
As Judeans move to supply the Greeks with the supplies potentially needed for their eventually weaponisation against Egypt, some of the men in the surrounding encampments are less than pleased by the Judean faces that appear amongst their number.
"You!" A voice calls, accompanied by a pointed finger. "See to your business and then leave! We are not within your walls anymore. You have no rights here!"
The only element stopping a riot of harsh disagreement breaking out then and there was the fact that the soldier had spoken in Greek, understood by only a handful of the Judean faces around the place...
JD
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This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
As Judeans move to supply the Greeks with the supplies potentially needed for their eventually weaponisation against Egypt, some of the men in the surrounding encampments are less than pleased by the Judean faces that appear amongst their number.
"You!" A voice calls, accompanied by a pointed finger. "See to your business and then leave! We are not within your walls anymore. You have no rights here!"
The only element stopping a riot of harsh disagreement breaking out then and there was the fact that the soldier had spoken in Greek, understood by only a handful of the Judean faces around the place...
Curveball Take Up Arms
As Judeans move to supply the Greeks with the supplies potentially needed for their eventually weaponisation against Egypt, some of the men in the surrounding encampments are less than pleased by the Judean faces that appear amongst their number.
"You!" A voice calls, accompanied by a pointed finger. "See to your business and then leave! We are not within your walls anymore. You have no rights here!"
The only element stopping a riot of harsh disagreement breaking out then and there was the fact that the soldier had spoken in Greek, understood by only a handful of the Judean faces around the place...
Despite their conversation having yet amounted to every little, Hannah was the sort or applied politeness and attention to what she was doing. A young woman easily enough distracted but holding her focus at least for the time being on a single event or happenstance, she was not the sort that lent themselves easily to multi-tasking. As such, as she struggled to ensure that all of the blankets and sheets that she held were carefully arranged once more in her arms and speak with the Councilman's son at the same time, her quota for attention was entirely full.
She did not notice the way in which the chatter of the Grecian soldiers slowly cooled and evaporated into the hot morning light. She didn't pay it any heed or notice when a few of them started to glance in their direction, then speak with one another in hushed tones before repeating the pattern. She was also completely unobservant of the way a few of them even rose to their feet, looking towards the pair of them with eyes of distaste. Whether for their clothing, their purpose or their presence, it was hard to tell, but either way the looks alone would have frightened Hannah had she seen them.
Instead she was focused entirely on the Lord Thaddeus - though she had yet to learn such a name - and was surprised as any when a pointed and angry snarl of the word 'you' broke through the little haze of their early acquaintance.
Her head whipping around and her eyes widening in shock, it was the shift of her features and the sudden movement of her shoulders and neck that dislodged Hannah's mitzpahath from its moorings over her ear. In a sweeping motion that she was helpless to stop, for her arms were full of sheets, Hannah's face was revealed and her lighter features and fair eyes were revealed to the world of aggression put before her.
As cried rang out that the Judeans were to leave and that this wasn't 'their city' and their presence was so entirely unwelcome, Hannah winced when another voice joined the throng.
"She is Greek!" He called, in his own native tongue. And Hannah began to panic. For whether her face had been seen or not by the others, this call would alert everyone Grecian and Judean to the odd occurrence of a Greek as a Judean slave.
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Apr 4, 2020 11:22:56 GMT
Posted In Take Up Arms on Apr 4, 2020 11:22:56 GMT
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Despite their conversation having yet amounted to every little, Hannah was the sort or applied politeness and attention to what she was doing. A young woman easily enough distracted but holding her focus at least for the time being on a single event or happenstance, she was not the sort that lent themselves easily to multi-tasking. As such, as she struggled to ensure that all of the blankets and sheets that she held were carefully arranged once more in her arms and speak with the Councilman's son at the same time, her quota for attention was entirely full.
She did not notice the way in which the chatter of the Grecian soldiers slowly cooled and evaporated into the hot morning light. She didn't pay it any heed or notice when a few of them started to glance in their direction, then speak with one another in hushed tones before repeating the pattern. She was also completely unobservant of the way a few of them even rose to their feet, looking towards the pair of them with eyes of distaste. Whether for their clothing, their purpose or their presence, it was hard to tell, but either way the looks alone would have frightened Hannah had she seen them.
Instead she was focused entirely on the Lord Thaddeus - though she had yet to learn such a name - and was surprised as any when a pointed and angry snarl of the word 'you' broke through the little haze of their early acquaintance.
Her head whipping around and her eyes widening in shock, it was the shift of her features and the sudden movement of her shoulders and neck that dislodged Hannah's mitzpahath from its moorings over her ear. In a sweeping motion that she was helpless to stop, for her arms were full of sheets, Hannah's face was revealed and her lighter features and fair eyes were revealed to the world of aggression put before her.
As cried rang out that the Judeans were to leave and that this wasn't 'their city' and their presence was so entirely unwelcome, Hannah winced when another voice joined the throng.
"She is Greek!" He called, in his own native tongue. And Hannah began to panic. For whether her face had been seen or not by the others, this call would alert everyone Grecian and Judean to the odd occurrence of a Greek as a Judean slave.
Despite their conversation having yet amounted to every little, Hannah was the sort or applied politeness and attention to what she was doing. A young woman easily enough distracted but holding her focus at least for the time being on a single event or happenstance, she was not the sort that lent themselves easily to multi-tasking. As such, as she struggled to ensure that all of the blankets and sheets that she held were carefully arranged once more in her arms and speak with the Councilman's son at the same time, her quota for attention was entirely full.
She did not notice the way in which the chatter of the Grecian soldiers slowly cooled and evaporated into the hot morning light. She didn't pay it any heed or notice when a few of them started to glance in their direction, then speak with one another in hushed tones before repeating the pattern. She was also completely unobservant of the way a few of them even rose to their feet, looking towards the pair of them with eyes of distaste. Whether for their clothing, their purpose or their presence, it was hard to tell, but either way the looks alone would have frightened Hannah had she seen them.
Instead she was focused entirely on the Lord Thaddeus - though she had yet to learn such a name - and was surprised as any when a pointed and angry snarl of the word 'you' broke through the little haze of their early acquaintance.
Her head whipping around and her eyes widening in shock, it was the shift of her features and the sudden movement of her shoulders and neck that dislodged Hannah's mitzpahath from its moorings over her ear. In a sweeping motion that she was helpless to stop, for her arms were full of sheets, Hannah's face was revealed and her lighter features and fair eyes were revealed to the world of aggression put before her.
As cried rang out that the Judeans were to leave and that this wasn't 'their city' and their presence was so entirely unwelcome, Hannah winced when another voice joined the throng.
"She is Greek!" He called, in his own native tongue. And Hannah began to panic. For whether her face had been seen or not by the others, this call would alert everyone Grecian and Judean to the odd occurrence of a Greek as a Judean slave.
Tensions were all around him, and yet Thaddeus was still there. It was easy to leave, to not think about these things, and to add to that he had no business really being there. Yet, he was, and his curiosity grew and grew. The tents were not normal to Judea, nor was the Tangean army, and it was so out of Thaddeus’s life to see it. He just had to at least see it. Of course, he had seen a girl amongst the crowd and took a chance to go up and talk to her. He was always up to talking to different people… even if she seemed to be of a different class then him. Not that he was really thinking about that…. He smiled as she thanked him, and he cocked his head to the side as she bowed to him. He watched her in curiosity. He appreciated her sentiment, but… it had him a bit speechless. She didn’t seem to into conversating, but perhaps it was the difference in class…”Shalom,” He replied, his voice friendly. He opened his mouth to speak more, only to be stopped in his tracks.
Just like Hannah, he hadn’t noticed the stares around him. He tended not to think about attention so much. But when the voice broke out, Thaddeus narrowed his eyes and spun about to see who had spoken. He couldn’t find the source, but that didn’t seem to matter as he noticed her getting nervous. Thaddeus sighed and shook his head. “It’s okay…” His voice was soft, and a thought popped into his head that he should leave. He didn’t want to cause a scene… especially in the midst of greeks. He started to hearing Judeans were not welcome, and Thaddeus started to back away. He didn’t want to get himself into deeper trouble, and perhaps it was best that he got home… and then another voice called out. He blinked over at the woman as if he didn’t believe what he heard.
“Greek?” He asked, looking surprised that he had been fooled. He had thought he had been talking to another Judean. “Is it true? Are you greek?” He had been betrayed right in front of his face! Nothing like this had happened to him before. He thought he could recognize his own people…. “I couldn’t even tell…” It was strange, for sure. Strange enough to have him stall going back into his own city walls.
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Apr 24, 2020 6:30:38 GMT
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Tensions were all around him, and yet Thaddeus was still there. It was easy to leave, to not think about these things, and to add to that he had no business really being there. Yet, he was, and his curiosity grew and grew. The tents were not normal to Judea, nor was the Tangean army, and it was so out of Thaddeus’s life to see it. He just had to at least see it. Of course, he had seen a girl amongst the crowd and took a chance to go up and talk to her. He was always up to talking to different people… even if she seemed to be of a different class then him. Not that he was really thinking about that…. He smiled as she thanked him, and he cocked his head to the side as she bowed to him. He watched her in curiosity. He appreciated her sentiment, but… it had him a bit speechless. She didn’t seem to into conversating, but perhaps it was the difference in class…”Shalom,” He replied, his voice friendly. He opened his mouth to speak more, only to be stopped in his tracks.
Just like Hannah, he hadn’t noticed the stares around him. He tended not to think about attention so much. But when the voice broke out, Thaddeus narrowed his eyes and spun about to see who had spoken. He couldn’t find the source, but that didn’t seem to matter as he noticed her getting nervous. Thaddeus sighed and shook his head. “It’s okay…” His voice was soft, and a thought popped into his head that he should leave. He didn’t want to cause a scene… especially in the midst of greeks. He started to hearing Judeans were not welcome, and Thaddeus started to back away. He didn’t want to get himself into deeper trouble, and perhaps it was best that he got home… and then another voice called out. He blinked over at the woman as if he didn’t believe what he heard.
“Greek?” He asked, looking surprised that he had been fooled. He had thought he had been talking to another Judean. “Is it true? Are you greek?” He had been betrayed right in front of his face! Nothing like this had happened to him before. He thought he could recognize his own people…. “I couldn’t even tell…” It was strange, for sure. Strange enough to have him stall going back into his own city walls.
Tensions were all around him, and yet Thaddeus was still there. It was easy to leave, to not think about these things, and to add to that he had no business really being there. Yet, he was, and his curiosity grew and grew. The tents were not normal to Judea, nor was the Tangean army, and it was so out of Thaddeus’s life to see it. He just had to at least see it. Of course, he had seen a girl amongst the crowd and took a chance to go up and talk to her. He was always up to talking to different people… even if she seemed to be of a different class then him. Not that he was really thinking about that…. He smiled as she thanked him, and he cocked his head to the side as she bowed to him. He watched her in curiosity. He appreciated her sentiment, but… it had him a bit speechless. She didn’t seem to into conversating, but perhaps it was the difference in class…”Shalom,” He replied, his voice friendly. He opened his mouth to speak more, only to be stopped in his tracks.
Just like Hannah, he hadn’t noticed the stares around him. He tended not to think about attention so much. But when the voice broke out, Thaddeus narrowed his eyes and spun about to see who had spoken. He couldn’t find the source, but that didn’t seem to matter as he noticed her getting nervous. Thaddeus sighed and shook his head. “It’s okay…” His voice was soft, and a thought popped into his head that he should leave. He didn’t want to cause a scene… especially in the midst of greeks. He started to hearing Judeans were not welcome, and Thaddeus started to back away. He didn’t want to get himself into deeper trouble, and perhaps it was best that he got home… and then another voice called out. He blinked over at the woman as if he didn’t believe what he heard.
“Greek?” He asked, looking surprised that he had been fooled. He had thought he had been talking to another Judean. “Is it true? Are you greek?” He had been betrayed right in front of his face! Nothing like this had happened to him before. He thought he could recognize his own people…. “I couldn’t even tell…” It was strange, for sure. Strange enough to have him stall going back into his own city walls.
Hannah felt fear started to fester in her chest and crawl up towards her throat. It was bad enough to be among these men once more. Bad enough to have been taken into the world of their morals and faith, feeling like a strange within that which she was born to. But the circumstances that unfurled now were even worse.
Hannah had witnessed and even occasionally spoke to the Greeks of Israel on occasion. Only ever as a Judean and only ever in Hebrew. She had done so on Jewish streets among Jewish people; in the safety and surroundings of her new communal people. She had rarely, if ever, been forced to venture so far into a collective Grecian environment, simply because such an environment had never normally existed. If one was to deliver clean cloth or bandages to the Grecian district within the walls of the city, there were opportunities to pass it to the gatesmen at each entryway; leaving the completion of the delivery in another's hands. Now, without the structure of walls and streets, giving the items directly to their owner had been required.
Her presence within the Greeks had been required.
Hannah had fought back the natural anxiety that such a place would instil in her. She felt her missing fingers ache and her heart squeeze tight, a sharp pain in her chest as if it were bleeding. She had taken deep breaths behind her mitzpahath, stilled her nervous and settled her emotions as memories of years passed had threatened to overwhelm her. She was not the ignorant little girl she had been then. She was more than that now. And she had held her nerve in order to complete the duties set before her by her master...
But now, as calls of her original heritage were heard, like allegations against her blood, Hannah looked towards the Judean before her in a vain hope of solidarity. She was dressed as a Judean, she spoke his language, she lived in his land... surely, he would...
But the look of betrayal and offence upon the young man's features were enough to send anxiety into a very real panic...
This was the son of a Mahnheeg. Royalty to the Judean people. If he felt that she had offended him; if he believed her to be deceptive or cruel in such falsehood... He could order whatever punishment he saw fit! Unlike the last time, when she had been a free woman, forced to obey the laws of the land... when the removal of two fingers was all that could be enforced upon her... this time, she was a slave. Mere property. He could have her head for the smallest of slights should he wish it.
And here they were standing, among the executions of her digits from seven years ago.
Not thinking upon logic over emotion, Hannah took a hasty step backwards. Her head shook viciously back and forth, her traitorously pale eyes widening with fear. The bundles that she held started to slip and shifts of fabric unfurled over her arm. One trailed upon the floor.
"No!" Hannah insisted, in Hebrew, acting only upon the solidarity of the Judean people. "I am a Jew!" She looked around at the Grecian soldiers, swallowing as she made her declarations. If she could just be proven to be one with the Mahnheeg's son - part of his race - then he would look favourably upon her! "I am no Greek. I am one of the Hebrews, I swear it!"
But the calls that she was of Grecian colouring were vast and numerous and Hannah felt her lower lip begin to tremble and her eyes grow damp with frustration and fear. Just what was she to do now?
Her frightened gaze swung back to the Judean before her, her voice now soft and broken – low enough for only him to hear…
"Please…"
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Apr 25, 2020 9:53:58 GMT
Posted In Take Up Arms on Apr 25, 2020 9:53:58 GMT
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Hannah felt fear started to fester in her chest and crawl up towards her throat. It was bad enough to be among these men once more. Bad enough to have been taken into the world of their morals and faith, feeling like a strange within that which she was born to. But the circumstances that unfurled now were even worse.
Hannah had witnessed and even occasionally spoke to the Greeks of Israel on occasion. Only ever as a Judean and only ever in Hebrew. She had done so on Jewish streets among Jewish people; in the safety and surroundings of her new communal people. She had rarely, if ever, been forced to venture so far into a collective Grecian environment, simply because such an environment had never normally existed. If one was to deliver clean cloth or bandages to the Grecian district within the walls of the city, there were opportunities to pass it to the gatesmen at each entryway; leaving the completion of the delivery in another's hands. Now, without the structure of walls and streets, giving the items directly to their owner had been required.
Her presence within the Greeks had been required.
Hannah had fought back the natural anxiety that such a place would instil in her. She felt her missing fingers ache and her heart squeeze tight, a sharp pain in her chest as if it were bleeding. She had taken deep breaths behind her mitzpahath, stilled her nervous and settled her emotions as memories of years passed had threatened to overwhelm her. She was not the ignorant little girl she had been then. She was more than that now. And she had held her nerve in order to complete the duties set before her by her master...
But now, as calls of her original heritage were heard, like allegations against her blood, Hannah looked towards the Judean before her in a vain hope of solidarity. She was dressed as a Judean, she spoke his language, she lived in his land... surely, he would...
But the look of betrayal and offence upon the young man's features were enough to send anxiety into a very real panic...
This was the son of a Mahnheeg. Royalty to the Judean people. If he felt that she had offended him; if he believed her to be deceptive or cruel in such falsehood... He could order whatever punishment he saw fit! Unlike the last time, when she had been a free woman, forced to obey the laws of the land... when the removal of two fingers was all that could be enforced upon her... this time, she was a slave. Mere property. He could have her head for the smallest of slights should he wish it.
And here they were standing, among the executions of her digits from seven years ago.
Not thinking upon logic over emotion, Hannah took a hasty step backwards. Her head shook viciously back and forth, her traitorously pale eyes widening with fear. The bundles that she held started to slip and shifts of fabric unfurled over her arm. One trailed upon the floor.
"No!" Hannah insisted, in Hebrew, acting only upon the solidarity of the Judean people. "I am a Jew!" She looked around at the Grecian soldiers, swallowing as she made her declarations. If she could just be proven to be one with the Mahnheeg's son - part of his race - then he would look favourably upon her! "I am no Greek. I am one of the Hebrews, I swear it!"
But the calls that she was of Grecian colouring were vast and numerous and Hannah felt her lower lip begin to tremble and her eyes grow damp with frustration and fear. Just what was she to do now?
Her frightened gaze swung back to the Judean before her, her voice now soft and broken – low enough for only him to hear…
"Please…"
Hannah felt fear started to fester in her chest and crawl up towards her throat. It was bad enough to be among these men once more. Bad enough to have been taken into the world of their morals and faith, feeling like a strange within that which she was born to. But the circumstances that unfurled now were even worse.
Hannah had witnessed and even occasionally spoke to the Greeks of Israel on occasion. Only ever as a Judean and only ever in Hebrew. She had done so on Jewish streets among Jewish people; in the safety and surroundings of her new communal people. She had rarely, if ever, been forced to venture so far into a collective Grecian environment, simply because such an environment had never normally existed. If one was to deliver clean cloth or bandages to the Grecian district within the walls of the city, there were opportunities to pass it to the gatesmen at each entryway; leaving the completion of the delivery in another's hands. Now, without the structure of walls and streets, giving the items directly to their owner had been required.
Her presence within the Greeks had been required.
Hannah had fought back the natural anxiety that such a place would instil in her. She felt her missing fingers ache and her heart squeeze tight, a sharp pain in her chest as if it were bleeding. She had taken deep breaths behind her mitzpahath, stilled her nervous and settled her emotions as memories of years passed had threatened to overwhelm her. She was not the ignorant little girl she had been then. She was more than that now. And she had held her nerve in order to complete the duties set before her by her master...
But now, as calls of her original heritage were heard, like allegations against her blood, Hannah looked towards the Judean before her in a vain hope of solidarity. She was dressed as a Judean, she spoke his language, she lived in his land... surely, he would...
But the look of betrayal and offence upon the young man's features were enough to send anxiety into a very real panic...
This was the son of a Mahnheeg. Royalty to the Judean people. If he felt that she had offended him; if he believed her to be deceptive or cruel in such falsehood... He could order whatever punishment he saw fit! Unlike the last time, when she had been a free woman, forced to obey the laws of the land... when the removal of two fingers was all that could be enforced upon her... this time, she was a slave. Mere property. He could have her head for the smallest of slights should he wish it.
And here they were standing, among the executions of her digits from seven years ago.
Not thinking upon logic over emotion, Hannah took a hasty step backwards. Her head shook viciously back and forth, her traitorously pale eyes widening with fear. The bundles that she held started to slip and shifts of fabric unfurled over her arm. One trailed upon the floor.
"No!" Hannah insisted, in Hebrew, acting only upon the solidarity of the Judean people. "I am a Jew!" She looked around at the Grecian soldiers, swallowing as she made her declarations. If she could just be proven to be one with the Mahnheeg's son - part of his race - then he would look favourably upon her! "I am no Greek. I am one of the Hebrews, I swear it!"
But the calls that she was of Grecian colouring were vast and numerous and Hannah felt her lower lip begin to tremble and her eyes grow damp with frustration and fear. Just what was she to do now?
Her frightened gaze swung back to the Judean before her, her voice now soft and broken – low enough for only him to hear…
"Please…"
The words confused him. He was interested in the stranger before him, but now he wasn’t sure about who she was. Greeks were here for a reason, and Thaddeus was curious enough today to not be shy about it, but he didn’t like to be tricked. He had thought she was similar to him, but if the words were true, then he wasn’t sure he was particularly comfortable. He felt betrayed somehow, and his expression showed hurt. If she was greek, it’d be fine- he knew what he had walked into. But because she dressed as a slave, and she seemed Judean… it’d be as if she was trying to blend in with his people. That wouldn’t do for him. Thaddeus watched her take a step backward, and Thad’s eyes narrowed. She seemed nervous, and that in his eyes seemed even more guilty. He heard her speak Hebrew, but the man wasn’t convinced.
“You look like us, are you trying to blend in?” He asked, quite bluntly as Hannah defended herself. If she was trying to be Judean but wasn’t in order to do harm, that would make a horrid offense. Thaddeus’s curiosity led him to be interested, but if a foreigner scared him, surprised him, tricked him, or did anything he didn’t agree with…. called for punishment. Or at least a forced removal. Thad crossed his arms as she spoke, increasingly looking more closed off. He didn’t know what to trust anymore. She again defended herself, and Thaddeus looked away. He was hesitant on giving any judgment, and the more the son of Tzephaniah paused, the more people started to look at them, wondering what Thad would do. Suddenly Thad looked at Hannah once more and frowned deeply.
“Prove it.” He demanded, looking at her with eyes that could pierce through her. “If you are a jew, prove it. It’s a simple enough request.” He spoke in his native tongue. He glanced around at the people surrounding the area. “If you are not a jew, then you have tricked me. I do not like being tricked.” If Amiti was here, he wouldn’t have even given the woman a second thought or even a chance. Hannah was lucky that Thaddeus cared. “Speaking Hebrew isn’t proof, I need more than that.” Thad clarified, his body stiffening as he waited for his response. Anyone could learn Hebrew. What he was really looking for was her religious loyalty. That she followed Judean traditions. Religion and tradition were what he lived for and was passionate about. If she didn’t have that? Then she couldn’t be a Judean at all. If she wasn’t a Judean? Then that meant she had made him out to be a fool.
Thaddeus waited.
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May 8, 2020 23:24:33 GMT
Posted In Take Up Arms on May 8, 2020 23:24:33 GMT
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The words confused him. He was interested in the stranger before him, but now he wasn’t sure about who she was. Greeks were here for a reason, and Thaddeus was curious enough today to not be shy about it, but he didn’t like to be tricked. He had thought she was similar to him, but if the words were true, then he wasn’t sure he was particularly comfortable. He felt betrayed somehow, and his expression showed hurt. If she was greek, it’d be fine- he knew what he had walked into. But because she dressed as a slave, and she seemed Judean… it’d be as if she was trying to blend in with his people. That wouldn’t do for him. Thaddeus watched her take a step backward, and Thad’s eyes narrowed. She seemed nervous, and that in his eyes seemed even more guilty. He heard her speak Hebrew, but the man wasn’t convinced.
“You look like us, are you trying to blend in?” He asked, quite bluntly as Hannah defended herself. If she was trying to be Judean but wasn’t in order to do harm, that would make a horrid offense. Thaddeus’s curiosity led him to be interested, but if a foreigner scared him, surprised him, tricked him, or did anything he didn’t agree with…. called for punishment. Or at least a forced removal. Thad crossed his arms as she spoke, increasingly looking more closed off. He didn’t know what to trust anymore. She again defended herself, and Thaddeus looked away. He was hesitant on giving any judgment, and the more the son of Tzephaniah paused, the more people started to look at them, wondering what Thad would do. Suddenly Thad looked at Hannah once more and frowned deeply.
“Prove it.” He demanded, looking at her with eyes that could pierce through her. “If you are a jew, prove it. It’s a simple enough request.” He spoke in his native tongue. He glanced around at the people surrounding the area. “If you are not a jew, then you have tricked me. I do not like being tricked.” If Amiti was here, he wouldn’t have even given the woman a second thought or even a chance. Hannah was lucky that Thaddeus cared. “Speaking Hebrew isn’t proof, I need more than that.” Thad clarified, his body stiffening as he waited for his response. Anyone could learn Hebrew. What he was really looking for was her religious loyalty. That she followed Judean traditions. Religion and tradition were what he lived for and was passionate about. If she didn’t have that? Then she couldn’t be a Judean at all. If she wasn’t a Judean? Then that meant she had made him out to be a fool.
Thaddeus waited.
The words confused him. He was interested in the stranger before him, but now he wasn’t sure about who she was. Greeks were here for a reason, and Thaddeus was curious enough today to not be shy about it, but he didn’t like to be tricked. He had thought she was similar to him, but if the words were true, then he wasn’t sure he was particularly comfortable. He felt betrayed somehow, and his expression showed hurt. If she was greek, it’d be fine- he knew what he had walked into. But because she dressed as a slave, and she seemed Judean… it’d be as if she was trying to blend in with his people. That wouldn’t do for him. Thaddeus watched her take a step backward, and Thad’s eyes narrowed. She seemed nervous, and that in his eyes seemed even more guilty. He heard her speak Hebrew, but the man wasn’t convinced.
“You look like us, are you trying to blend in?” He asked, quite bluntly as Hannah defended herself. If she was trying to be Judean but wasn’t in order to do harm, that would make a horrid offense. Thaddeus’s curiosity led him to be interested, but if a foreigner scared him, surprised him, tricked him, or did anything he didn’t agree with…. called for punishment. Or at least a forced removal. Thad crossed his arms as she spoke, increasingly looking more closed off. He didn’t know what to trust anymore. She again defended herself, and Thaddeus looked away. He was hesitant on giving any judgment, and the more the son of Tzephaniah paused, the more people started to look at them, wondering what Thad would do. Suddenly Thad looked at Hannah once more and frowned deeply.
“Prove it.” He demanded, looking at her with eyes that could pierce through her. “If you are a jew, prove it. It’s a simple enough request.” He spoke in his native tongue. He glanced around at the people surrounding the area. “If you are not a jew, then you have tricked me. I do not like being tricked.” If Amiti was here, he wouldn’t have even given the woman a second thought or even a chance. Hannah was lucky that Thaddeus cared. “Speaking Hebrew isn’t proof, I need more than that.” Thad clarified, his body stiffening as he waited for his response. Anyone could learn Hebrew. What he was really looking for was her religious loyalty. That she followed Judean traditions. Religion and tradition were what he lived for and was passionate about. If she didn’t have that? Then she couldn’t be a Judean at all. If she wasn’t a Judean? Then that meant she had made him out to be a fool.
Thaddeus waited.
Hannah was panicking. What if this man did not believe her? What if he determined her to be a deceitful person; a liar and a sinner? She had lost her fingers just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. True, it had been a punishment dictated by the Greeks under Judean law but it was Judean law all the same. She had suffered the loss of her husband under Grecian law and the loss of half her hand under that of the Hebrews. To her, neither was any more lenient than the other.
Such punishments had been meted out under the ignorance of a misunderstanding and yet this one might be called a deliberate crime. The insult and angerment of a Councilman's son...
If he determined her to have deliberately misled him, she would lose more than her fingers. She could perhaps lose her life.
Eyes widening further when the Hebrew man insisted that he did not like to be lied to, the risk of punishment latent in his words, Hannah felt moisture come to her gaze and risk the tears. Her lower lip trembled and her heart hammered. What was she to do in this situation when proof was demanded from her?
She could not paint her eyes black, nor stain her skin dark. She could not, in this moment, colour her hair to the darkness of Hebrew heritage. Most of such evidence was hidden by her clothes but she was already at a disadvantage to prove her lie a truth.
Yet, at the same time, it was less a lie the longer she lived within the Hebrew people. It was true that she had been declined Conversion to the Judean culture and people. But she had been planning to reapply for the acceptance when her husband had been taken from her and she had been forced to become a slave. And yet, she was still a woman that had lived in Judea over a third of her life. She was married to a Jew. She had born a Jewish child.
The tears fell down her cheeks.
"Please I don't know..." Her voice trailed off as she looked about her at the suspicious glares of the Grecian soldiers and the accusation on the face of the man before her. She was frightened, felt her missing fingers throb with the memory of their removal and she was finding it hard to breathe. How was she to prove that she was Jewish? That she considered herself a Hebrew amongst the people?
"Please... I... my husband is a Jew. I..." She swallowed and licked her lips that were dry and raw. Closing her eyes, she bent her head, her spine curving in a protective arch as she started to pray and mumble beneath her breath. The words were traditional Yiddish, recited on more than one occasion over and over until she could speak them without accent. Isaiah had taught them to her. They were prayers and psalms for penance and forgiveness and for strength that was undeserved but so desperately wanted. She paused to swallow back her fears again and then continued, chanting to herself in words that had become as close to her as any faith had been able since she was born.
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May 27, 2020 11:54:43 GMT
Posted In Take Up Arms on May 27, 2020 11:54:43 GMT
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Hannah was panicking. What if this man did not believe her? What if he determined her to be a deceitful person; a liar and a sinner? She had lost her fingers just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. True, it had been a punishment dictated by the Greeks under Judean law but it was Judean law all the same. She had suffered the loss of her husband under Grecian law and the loss of half her hand under that of the Hebrews. To her, neither was any more lenient than the other.
Such punishments had been meted out under the ignorance of a misunderstanding and yet this one might be called a deliberate crime. The insult and angerment of a Councilman's son...
If he determined her to have deliberately misled him, she would lose more than her fingers. She could perhaps lose her life.
Eyes widening further when the Hebrew man insisted that he did not like to be lied to, the risk of punishment latent in his words, Hannah felt moisture come to her gaze and risk the tears. Her lower lip trembled and her heart hammered. What was she to do in this situation when proof was demanded from her?
She could not paint her eyes black, nor stain her skin dark. She could not, in this moment, colour her hair to the darkness of Hebrew heritage. Most of such evidence was hidden by her clothes but she was already at a disadvantage to prove her lie a truth.
Yet, at the same time, it was less a lie the longer she lived within the Hebrew people. It was true that she had been declined Conversion to the Judean culture and people. But she had been planning to reapply for the acceptance when her husband had been taken from her and she had been forced to become a slave. And yet, she was still a woman that had lived in Judea over a third of her life. She was married to a Jew. She had born a Jewish child.
The tears fell down her cheeks.
"Please I don't know..." Her voice trailed off as she looked about her at the suspicious glares of the Grecian soldiers and the accusation on the face of the man before her. She was frightened, felt her missing fingers throb with the memory of their removal and she was finding it hard to breathe. How was she to prove that she was Jewish? That she considered herself a Hebrew amongst the people?
"Please... I... my husband is a Jew. I..." She swallowed and licked her lips that were dry and raw. Closing her eyes, she bent her head, her spine curving in a protective arch as she started to pray and mumble beneath her breath. The words were traditional Yiddish, recited on more than one occasion over and over until she could speak them without accent. Isaiah had taught them to her. They were prayers and psalms for penance and forgiveness and for strength that was undeserved but so desperately wanted. She paused to swallow back her fears again and then continued, chanting to herself in words that had become as close to her as any faith had been able since she was born.
Hannah was panicking. What if this man did not believe her? What if he determined her to be a deceitful person; a liar and a sinner? She had lost her fingers just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. True, it had been a punishment dictated by the Greeks under Judean law but it was Judean law all the same. She had suffered the loss of her husband under Grecian law and the loss of half her hand under that of the Hebrews. To her, neither was any more lenient than the other.
Such punishments had been meted out under the ignorance of a misunderstanding and yet this one might be called a deliberate crime. The insult and angerment of a Councilman's son...
If he determined her to have deliberately misled him, she would lose more than her fingers. She could perhaps lose her life.
Eyes widening further when the Hebrew man insisted that he did not like to be lied to, the risk of punishment latent in his words, Hannah felt moisture come to her gaze and risk the tears. Her lower lip trembled and her heart hammered. What was she to do in this situation when proof was demanded from her?
She could not paint her eyes black, nor stain her skin dark. She could not, in this moment, colour her hair to the darkness of Hebrew heritage. Most of such evidence was hidden by her clothes but she was already at a disadvantage to prove her lie a truth.
Yet, at the same time, it was less a lie the longer she lived within the Hebrew people. It was true that she had been declined Conversion to the Judean culture and people. But she had been planning to reapply for the acceptance when her husband had been taken from her and she had been forced to become a slave. And yet, she was still a woman that had lived in Judea over a third of her life. She was married to a Jew. She had born a Jewish child.
The tears fell down her cheeks.
"Please I don't know..." Her voice trailed off as she looked about her at the suspicious glares of the Grecian soldiers and the accusation on the face of the man before her. She was frightened, felt her missing fingers throb with the memory of their removal and she was finding it hard to breathe. How was she to prove that she was Jewish? That she considered herself a Hebrew amongst the people?
"Please... I... my husband is a Jew. I..." She swallowed and licked her lips that were dry and raw. Closing her eyes, she bent her head, her spine curving in a protective arch as she started to pray and mumble beneath her breath. The words were traditional Yiddish, recited on more than one occasion over and over until she could speak them without accent. Isaiah had taught them to her. They were prayers and psalms for penance and forgiveness and for strength that was undeserved but so desperately wanted. She paused to swallow back her fears again and then continued, chanting to herself in words that had become as close to her as any faith had been able since she was born.
He narrowed his eyes over at her. At first, he had seen her as Judean, but now he just couldn’t make sense of anything. The accusations became more and more true as he looked her over… she didn’t seem like she belonged. Had he been tricked? Lied to? He hated the idea of being tricked. He thought he would be able to make a friend! But now he only wanted the truth so that he could be on his way. The possibility of friendship gone, he crossed his arms as she explained herself. He wanted her to prove it, and not just showing him that she spoke their language… he needed more. Anyone could learn to speak Hebrew. He stared at her, waiting for her to make the right move.
Thaddeus saw the tears, and he let out a tired sigh. He hadn’t wanted to upset the woman, but at the same time, she wasn’t making things easy. It was easy to prove that she was Judean, and he didn’t understand how long this was taking. It made her more suspicious. He blinked at her words, not sure if he heard her right. “Excuse me? What did you say?” He demanded, now visibly even more frustrated. He shifted his feet, the dirt on the ground creating marks as his feet moved. “You don’t…. What?” He had to force himself closer, wanting to hear while also not really wanting to be in her presence. She was turning out to be a trickster! A sinner even! Thaddeus wasn’t easy to anger, but Hannah triggered something within him that made his anger and frustration come out. It got worse as time passed and he still hadn’t gotten the answer he wanted. He listened to her words, and stopped once she spoke that her husband was a jew. He suddenly didn’t want to listen to her anymore. Not that it was proof, but he simply didn’t want to deal with the husband. It would be too much effort.
He waved his hand dismissively and turned his body away from her. “I don’t want anything to do with you.” His voice was firm, and Thaddeus frowned deeply. He looked over to the people around them. “Leave her be.” He didn’t want others to go after her, even if he himself didn’t trust her. Maybe Amiti was right in some instances, perhaps some women were not to be trusted. “Good bye.” Thaddeus spoke softly, before moving his feet and walking away from her. Hopefully, she’d get the hint, and hopefully avoid him. She was not to be punished, but if she frustrated him again, he would certainly encourage such things.
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Jun 14, 2020 18:42:17 GMT
Posted In Take Up Arms on Jun 14, 2020 18:42:17 GMT
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He narrowed his eyes over at her. At first, he had seen her as Judean, but now he just couldn’t make sense of anything. The accusations became more and more true as he looked her over… she didn’t seem like she belonged. Had he been tricked? Lied to? He hated the idea of being tricked. He thought he would be able to make a friend! But now he only wanted the truth so that he could be on his way. The possibility of friendship gone, he crossed his arms as she explained herself. He wanted her to prove it, and not just showing him that she spoke their language… he needed more. Anyone could learn to speak Hebrew. He stared at her, waiting for her to make the right move.
Thaddeus saw the tears, and he let out a tired sigh. He hadn’t wanted to upset the woman, but at the same time, she wasn’t making things easy. It was easy to prove that she was Judean, and he didn’t understand how long this was taking. It made her more suspicious. He blinked at her words, not sure if he heard her right. “Excuse me? What did you say?” He demanded, now visibly even more frustrated. He shifted his feet, the dirt on the ground creating marks as his feet moved. “You don’t…. What?” He had to force himself closer, wanting to hear while also not really wanting to be in her presence. She was turning out to be a trickster! A sinner even! Thaddeus wasn’t easy to anger, but Hannah triggered something within him that made his anger and frustration come out. It got worse as time passed and he still hadn’t gotten the answer he wanted. He listened to her words, and stopped once she spoke that her husband was a jew. He suddenly didn’t want to listen to her anymore. Not that it was proof, but he simply didn’t want to deal with the husband. It would be too much effort.
He waved his hand dismissively and turned his body away from her. “I don’t want anything to do with you.” His voice was firm, and Thaddeus frowned deeply. He looked over to the people around them. “Leave her be.” He didn’t want others to go after her, even if he himself didn’t trust her. Maybe Amiti was right in some instances, perhaps some women were not to be trusted. “Good bye.” Thaddeus spoke softly, before moving his feet and walking away from her. Hopefully, she’d get the hint, and hopefully avoid him. She was not to be punished, but if she frustrated him again, he would certainly encourage such things.
He narrowed his eyes over at her. At first, he had seen her as Judean, but now he just couldn’t make sense of anything. The accusations became more and more true as he looked her over… she didn’t seem like she belonged. Had he been tricked? Lied to? He hated the idea of being tricked. He thought he would be able to make a friend! But now he only wanted the truth so that he could be on his way. The possibility of friendship gone, he crossed his arms as she explained herself. He wanted her to prove it, and not just showing him that she spoke their language… he needed more. Anyone could learn to speak Hebrew. He stared at her, waiting for her to make the right move.
Thaddeus saw the tears, and he let out a tired sigh. He hadn’t wanted to upset the woman, but at the same time, she wasn’t making things easy. It was easy to prove that she was Judean, and he didn’t understand how long this was taking. It made her more suspicious. He blinked at her words, not sure if he heard her right. “Excuse me? What did you say?” He demanded, now visibly even more frustrated. He shifted his feet, the dirt on the ground creating marks as his feet moved. “You don’t…. What?” He had to force himself closer, wanting to hear while also not really wanting to be in her presence. She was turning out to be a trickster! A sinner even! Thaddeus wasn’t easy to anger, but Hannah triggered something within him that made his anger and frustration come out. It got worse as time passed and he still hadn’t gotten the answer he wanted. He listened to her words, and stopped once she spoke that her husband was a jew. He suddenly didn’t want to listen to her anymore. Not that it was proof, but he simply didn’t want to deal with the husband. It would be too much effort.
He waved his hand dismissively and turned his body away from her. “I don’t want anything to do with you.” His voice was firm, and Thaddeus frowned deeply. He looked over to the people around them. “Leave her be.” He didn’t want others to go after her, even if he himself didn’t trust her. Maybe Amiti was right in some instances, perhaps some women were not to be trusted. “Good bye.” Thaddeus spoke softly, before moving his feet and walking away from her. Hopefully, she’d get the hint, and hopefully avoid him. She was not to be punished, but if she frustrated him again, he would certainly encourage such things.
Hannah had no idea what had happened in the last ten minutes. It had always been rare for her to cause distaste in others. Back during her years in Taengea, she had been the sister of a beloved socialite and the daughter of a respected one. She had been an individual that others could speak with and relate to. She had been charming and bright and smiled. Whilst she could often be shy and she paled in comparison to a glamorous sister as vivacious and confident as their mother before them, she was not the sort of person that turned up the noses of other people. She was simply too unimpressive to make a heavy mark upon anyone for either better or worse.
Since being a part of Judean culture, Hannah had witnessed dislike in many forms. Some were in the shape of distaste for her heritage: her skin tone, her language and her previous faith. The xenophobia of the Jews was well known and Hannah had accepted it as part of her new life within the walls of Israel. But such disregard had been caused by that which she could not control. Those that harboured hatred in their hearts did not hold it for her as a person. They held it for the Greeks. The same was to be said for those that now treated her poorly because of her status as a slave. Those who felt that they could lay the lash upon her back or force her to sleep in the cold. Those who placed weights on her hands for a day to ensure she never dropped anything again. Such treatments had had nothing to do with she as an individual; not with her mind or her heart. They had seen a slave, and they had hated the slave.
Yet, this man...
There was something personal but his features. A sense of real frustration that was not limited to the accusations being thrown by the Grecians around them. His eyes burned with an intimate hurt and distaste that set Hannah's tears flowing all the faster. She had done something to anger this man; had wounded him in some way and he now held her accountable with anger and with scorn. She could not deny his feelings any more than she could deny herself the cause of them, but that left her no more illuminated as to what she had done to spark it all.
Everything had happened so fast that she hadn't been able to keep track. She could not see where the ball had started to roll, where the damage had been done and the momentum ignited. She did not see what she could have done in order to avoid such eventualities. It had all just tumbled out of control.
And now she stood, murmuring and whispering her thanks to the man, her apologies to him, as he walked away without a backwards glance. He had been cold and dismissive, but he had not punished her. He had not taken her other fingers, nor seen fit to turn her over to the Grecian soldiers for punishment of trespass. He hadn't turned her towards Judean government for her failure to deliver her master's goods in time, or for lying to the son of a Councilman. He had allowed her to remain chastised by his words alone, haunted by fear alone.
He left her there to try and scrape together the fabrics that now lay about her feet, in the hopes that she might sweep some of her dignity back into her arms as she went.
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Jun 27, 2020 14:55:30 GMT
Posted In Take Up Arms on Jun 27, 2020 14:55:30 GMT
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Hannah had no idea what had happened in the last ten minutes. It had always been rare for her to cause distaste in others. Back during her years in Taengea, she had been the sister of a beloved socialite and the daughter of a respected one. She had been an individual that others could speak with and relate to. She had been charming and bright and smiled. Whilst she could often be shy and she paled in comparison to a glamorous sister as vivacious and confident as their mother before them, she was not the sort of person that turned up the noses of other people. She was simply too unimpressive to make a heavy mark upon anyone for either better or worse.
Since being a part of Judean culture, Hannah had witnessed dislike in many forms. Some were in the shape of distaste for her heritage: her skin tone, her language and her previous faith. The xenophobia of the Jews was well known and Hannah had accepted it as part of her new life within the walls of Israel. But such disregard had been caused by that which she could not control. Those that harboured hatred in their hearts did not hold it for her as a person. They held it for the Greeks. The same was to be said for those that now treated her poorly because of her status as a slave. Those who felt that they could lay the lash upon her back or force her to sleep in the cold. Those who placed weights on her hands for a day to ensure she never dropped anything again. Such treatments had had nothing to do with she as an individual; not with her mind or her heart. They had seen a slave, and they had hated the slave.
Yet, this man...
There was something personal but his features. A sense of real frustration that was not limited to the accusations being thrown by the Grecians around them. His eyes burned with an intimate hurt and distaste that set Hannah's tears flowing all the faster. She had done something to anger this man; had wounded him in some way and he now held her accountable with anger and with scorn. She could not deny his feelings any more than she could deny herself the cause of them, but that left her no more illuminated as to what she had done to spark it all.
Everything had happened so fast that she hadn't been able to keep track. She could not see where the ball had started to roll, where the damage had been done and the momentum ignited. She did not see what she could have done in order to avoid such eventualities. It had all just tumbled out of control.
And now she stood, murmuring and whispering her thanks to the man, her apologies to him, as he walked away without a backwards glance. He had been cold and dismissive, but he had not punished her. He had not taken her other fingers, nor seen fit to turn her over to the Grecian soldiers for punishment of trespass. He hadn't turned her towards Judean government for her failure to deliver her master's goods in time, or for lying to the son of a Councilman. He had allowed her to remain chastised by his words alone, haunted by fear alone.
He left her there to try and scrape together the fabrics that now lay about her feet, in the hopes that she might sweep some of her dignity back into her arms as she went.
Hannah had no idea what had happened in the last ten minutes. It had always been rare for her to cause distaste in others. Back during her years in Taengea, she had been the sister of a beloved socialite and the daughter of a respected one. She had been an individual that others could speak with and relate to. She had been charming and bright and smiled. Whilst she could often be shy and she paled in comparison to a glamorous sister as vivacious and confident as their mother before them, she was not the sort of person that turned up the noses of other people. She was simply too unimpressive to make a heavy mark upon anyone for either better or worse.
Since being a part of Judean culture, Hannah had witnessed dislike in many forms. Some were in the shape of distaste for her heritage: her skin tone, her language and her previous faith. The xenophobia of the Jews was well known and Hannah had accepted it as part of her new life within the walls of Israel. But such disregard had been caused by that which she could not control. Those that harboured hatred in their hearts did not hold it for her as a person. They held it for the Greeks. The same was to be said for those that now treated her poorly because of her status as a slave. Those who felt that they could lay the lash upon her back or force her to sleep in the cold. Those who placed weights on her hands for a day to ensure she never dropped anything again. Such treatments had had nothing to do with she as an individual; not with her mind or her heart. They had seen a slave, and they had hated the slave.
Yet, this man...
There was something personal but his features. A sense of real frustration that was not limited to the accusations being thrown by the Grecians around them. His eyes burned with an intimate hurt and distaste that set Hannah's tears flowing all the faster. She had done something to anger this man; had wounded him in some way and he now held her accountable with anger and with scorn. She could not deny his feelings any more than she could deny herself the cause of them, but that left her no more illuminated as to what she had done to spark it all.
Everything had happened so fast that she hadn't been able to keep track. She could not see where the ball had started to roll, where the damage had been done and the momentum ignited. She did not see what she could have done in order to avoid such eventualities. It had all just tumbled out of control.
And now she stood, murmuring and whispering her thanks to the man, her apologies to him, as he walked away without a backwards glance. He had been cold and dismissive, but he had not punished her. He had not taken her other fingers, nor seen fit to turn her over to the Grecian soldiers for punishment of trespass. He hadn't turned her towards Judean government for her failure to deliver her master's goods in time, or for lying to the son of a Councilman. He had allowed her to remain chastised by his words alone, haunted by fear alone.
He left her there to try and scrape together the fabrics that now lay about her feet, in the hopes that she might sweep some of her dignity back into her arms as she went.