[OPEN] a beautiful day, don't let it get away

[tehilim127_1]

Who: Zivia (tehilim127_1) & all comers (with prompts for Lev, Anzu, Ava, Dahlia, Tayrey, Degas)
What: Things resume after the flood
When: Late May and early June
Where: At work (Town Hall), at the beach, at the grocery, at an impasse
Warning(s): To be added as relevant

1. you love this town

Somehow -- magically? miraculously? Zivia feels like either of those could apply, and like neither is safe to use carelessly -- somehow the island and the town have been barely damaged by the floodwaters. Neither the plants nor the animals nor the works of human hands are any worse for wear than they might be after a heavy rain.

This does mean more work at Town Hall, as Zivia and Fever empty all the file drawers to make sure there's no water damage anywhere, and then have to put everything back. And simultaneously have to be available to answer any questions anyone has, though they agree to take turns being on call while all of that's going on. Maybe you'll show up with a question while it's Zivia's turn to address it? Or maybe, sometime during this month, you'll encounter Fever at Town Hall's booth at the job fair, and decide to follow up by inquiring within.

2. reach me, i know i'm not a hopeless case

One nice thing about living here, Zivia will readily admit, is being within walking distance of a beach.

She's out for a walk on the shoreline, some days after the end of the flood, feet bare in the sand and shoes tucked into a bag slung over her shoulder. As a wave recedes, a glint of silver catches her eye, and she breaks into a brief jog to get closer before the water comes in again.

Anyone who happens to be nearby at the time will see her drop into an unsteady crouch to pick it up, then press one hand over her mouth as though to keep from crying out in shock -- or maybe just to keep from crying.

3. see the bird with a leaf in her mouth

It is so good, after even that brief time spent scrounging things on board ship, to be able to walk into a shop and purchase things again. Whole wheat flour, honey, salt, oil, a form of yeast she isn't familiar with but is nonetheless confident she can figure out; dried spices, fresh herbs, a basket full of vegetables and fruit in season; a beautiful fillet of salmon, which she hurries home to stow in the icebox directly next to the ice. Milk, eggs, butter. A few bottles of wine, after some conversation with the shopkeeper not too dissimilar from the one she had with Dahlia on board the cursed ship.

She considers, briefly, giving Dahlia a bottle of wine in return, and discards that idea. Instead, Dahlia -- and a few other people around town who've been especially helpful in the last month or so, including Ava Starr, Arilanna Tayrey, Wilson Higgsbury, and Degas Clayton -- will receive a small loaf of home-baked braided bread by way of appreciation and thanks.

(Feel free to run into Zivia doing her grocery shopping, or to meet her delivering challah, whether to you or to someone else!)

4. after the flood all the colors came out (for Lev/Lyubov and Anzu)

One thing she can't buy anywhere here, she already knows, is kosher meat. Which leads to her picking up the sending stone to contact Anzu and Rov Morgenshtern, and asking if either of them knows how to perform shechita; the soaking and salting part she can do, she assures them, but she's never done that part.

And the thing is, she explains, she'd really like to be able to serve chicken if they would like to join her for Shabbos dinner, this or next Friday night.

5. it was a beautiful day

Wildcard!

Comments

See the bird...

[preacher_in_reticence]

Zivia finds Degas at home, on a quiet afternoon. He opens the door, sees her, and unconsciously sort of...smooths his hands down his waistcoat as if trying to be sure he's presentable.

"Would you care to come inside?"

[tehilim127_1]

"If you're not busy? I mostly came to bring you this," and she holds out an oblong object, wrapped in a linen napkin. "As a thank-you."

[preacher_in_reticence]

He accepts, and looks under the napkin as if to double-check what he's being handed isn't a living creature (look, it happens sometimes). Seeing bread, his eyes light up.

"I might insist on breaking out a jar of jam and sharing some of this with you. Or marmalade, if you prefer?"

[tehilim127_1]

"Jam would be lovely," she says with a smile. "Or it's also very good with butter. Or both."

[preacher_in_reticence]

"Well, come in. We can try all of those in combination and pick favorites." He gestures her inside, where...

...there's something stagnant about the home. Not literal dust (though there's a decent amount of that too), but the decor suggests a woman's touch, as if Degas hasn't changed a single thing about his home since Melly died. Embroidery samplers on display, floral pillows on a loveseat in the living room. There are no covers on the mirrors, but this house still feels like one where shiva is being sat.

[tehilim127_1]

With one crucial difference: it's empty, but for him.

Zivia doesn't comment on that, because what could she possibly say? Instead she says, possibly a little too brightly: "I don't know what's polite here. Do I sit down and wait for you to bring things out, or do I go with you to the kitchen to fetch things?"

[preacher_in_reticence]

It's not a question he was expecting. He sort of blinks a couple times, uncertain.

"Kitchen? Kitchen. We could just do eating there, perhaps. I don't know. I...don't entertain guests often. You're the third in about three years."

3.

[astrogator]

It's a pleasant surprise for Tayrey to find Zivia all the way out at her house for a visit, and she's eagerly invited in. Tayrey's place, at the end of rural Prosperity Lane, is a compact house, but elegant in the symmetry, and the white-pillared portico is what drew her to it. Inside, it's extremely minimalist, all surfaces clear, no clutter. The decor is more floral and fussy than one would expect of the young lieutenant: patterned wallpapers and rugs. She simply hasn't been able to replace them yet.

It's all very neighbourly until Zivia offers her gift, and then Tayrey takes on an awkward, disconcerted expression. 'Citizen...' she starts, hesitantly, 'did I ever tell you about the principle of fair contract among my people?'

[tehilim127_1]

Zivia blinks at the change in Tayrey's face. "I ... don't recall that you did. We wrote up a contract for the work you did on my brick oven, is that related?"

[astrogator]

'Partly.' Tayrey's trouble is that she knows enough to suspect that people from other universes will continue to react badly to the norms of her own, but not enough to be able to explain it in a way that would avoid that.

'In my sector,' she says, 'contract is at the root of everything. Civilisation is built on fair and mutually beneficial contract, and it's always been that way. Contract is... seeing what the other person is offering, and saying I value that and so I offer this in return, value for value.'

She hopes Zivia can see where she's going with this. 'So. I value your bread and the effort you went to, making it, so I need to offer fair contract in return. You'll let me pay?'

[tehilim127_1]

Zivia listens, very seriously, and gives a low "Hmm" when Tayrey's finished speaking.

"So I want to honor that. If you feel strongly that it wouldn't be right to take this and offer nothing in return, I'm not gonna insist otherwise. But on the other hand, it'd feel weird to take money for this when I wasn't planning on selling it. You said value for value, would that include like ... trading favors? Do your contracts draw a distinction between trading and selling? Because those feel different to me, though I don't think I could articulate why."

[astrogator]

There's a flood of relief when Zivia doesn't object, isn't offended. Tayrey will talk very firmly about contract in the abstract, assert that someone who can't deal with her on equal terms isn't someone she wants to deal with at all. She means it. Except that for her the not dealing would be neutral. Offending isn't her intention.

What she has here is the best possible outcome.

'It includes any kind of trade. In my sector we don't really distinguish between trading and selling, because straight selling is just trading for currency, and different colonies use their own currencies so it's not like we're attached to one. If they feel different to you, that's no trouble, I can trade you something else, no money needed,' she assures Zivia.

'I don't like trading in unspecified favors but if there's something in particular you had in mind?'

[tehilim127_1]

"I don't have anything particular in mind, but I bet I could come up with something. Especially if ... hmm. Could you give me an idea what kinds of favor you might consider fair value for homemade bread?"

3.

[decohere]

"Oh, this looks good," Ava comments as she accepts the loaf. "What's the occasion?"

[tehilim127_1]

"I'm celebrating having a working kitchen of my own again," Zivia says with relish. "And it's also by way of thanks for everyone who helped me get the Passover Seder together, on the ship."

[decohere]

"Water damage aside, it is a relief to have our own space back," she agrees with a smile.

"And really, wasn't any trouble at all, I liked having... something to keep me occupied." Rather than panicking about being trapped on a ship again, or spending all her time fretting over her dying husband. He needed space from it just as much. It's so hard to rest when you're trying to be okay for someone else, and her worrying wasn't making him any better.

"Want to come in for some tea?"

[tehilim127_1]

"I know what you mean. And yes, I'd like that."

As she steps in, she adds "Was the water damage bad here? It seems to have been weirdly selective."

[decohere]

"A bit, more cosmetic than structural at least," and they didn't own too much to lose anyway. "But a good excuse to maybe... do some remodeling." Ava smiles a bit secretively as she turns into the house to allow her guest after, leading to the small kitchen.

"Is there any special way to eat this?" Ava asks curiously as she starts up the water, since the woman had talked about the bitter herbs and apple being a special tradition.

[tehilim127_1]

"Nope. Well, sort of? We're supposed to have two of them to start off festive meals, and you say a blessing first and sprinkle a little salt on them. Or honey instead of salt, for the high holidays in fall. But it doesn't have to be this kind of bread in particular, it can be any bread. This is just ... traditional, to make the sabbath special. Richer than regular bread, and braided to make it fancy."

4. after the flood

[amourtician]

This is not a question Anzu has ever expected to be asked, and he's reluctant to get into the technicalities of what he knows and doesn't know while communicating via sending stones ... but he's hardly going to just leave Zivia in the lurch. He was raised better.

He turns up on his own.

"Leyb will be along shortly," he explains, after the necessities of greeting have been dealt with. "He's, ah. I've asked him to try and be on his feet a little less, or at least sleep more. But it's me what knows the laws of shekhitah as more than things I ought to be supervising, though I'm afraid the formal training, I have not been initiated into."

He smiles at Zivia, and adds, "but, ah, darling, for the sake of Shabbos dinner ... I'm willing to at least find out if I know enough to try."

And in any case, it's not like she asked him to help her slaughter something that neither of them can lift without assistance. It's a chicken, after all — how much trouble could it cause in the course of a peaceful death? Surely less trouble than most people.

[tehilim127_1]

She returns the smile. "That's about how I feel, too. And if between the three of us we decide we don't know enough to try, then you're still invited for Shabbos dinner and I'll make salmon or something. If you like salmon."

For a moment her mind runs ahead of her (in a nice dill sauce, maybe, with a side of scalloped potatoes in cheese), and then her face turns a little introspective.

"I keep realizing all over again how much I rely on things done by a community, back home. Even after the shechita, I've never prepared a chicken that wasn't already soaked and salted, cleaned, cut up -- I'm not even sure I know how to get all the feathers off."

[amourtician]

Anzu beams.

"I do like salmon, though it's rather exotic, by us," he confesses. "Carp and trout and herring are what I'm used to."

The matter of preparing the chicken the rest of the way seems to not concern him too much, however:

"Ekh, I know what thou mean'st. Though, darling, thou'rt in luck, and HaShem does provide!" and saying this, he grins, proudly. "I've more than ample experience helping various family members prepare poultry. Many old family recipes call for the latter, with almond milk. At least, nu," he shrugs. "I'm told they're old family recipes, old enough to be from before mine ancestors held by Our Sages, hence the need to substitute for almond milk, and garnish with almonds, too."

He cocks his head to one side, tapping his fingers against his breastbone while he considers his next words, wondering if he should pre-empt any questions.

In the end, he decides to trust Zivia on this — if she's curious, she'll ask. And he's hardly ashamed of his family's origins.

But because he prefers to be sure he's been understood, he raises an eyebrow and adds, "and do ask, if thou wish'st. The story's irrelevant to the skill of gutting and salting chickens, but I mind not telling thee."

[tehilim127_1]

"I'm always up for a story," she says easily. "Or a family recipe. Or both, if they're connected."

And she gestures him to the couch -- one piece of furniture this house came with that she would absolutely have picked out for herself if given the opportunity. It's long, with a curve to it, upholstered in a soft rose-color, and could easily seat five to six people in conversation.

[amourtician]

"Well, ah ... my family arrived in the lands of Ashkenaz with a man many thought would be Moshiakh, Dovyd HaReuveni," Anzu says; he tries to keep his tone more or less neutral, but it's clear he's far from unproud of this history. "From the south of the plenum what holds the Holy Land, though I'm told many of the nations, feh, assumed we came from the East, for reasons that are rather opaque to me."

He pauses, more for dramatic effect than anything.

"Dovyd HaReuveni was accompanied by some number of families ... nu, maybe fifty, maybe two hundred. And we were all Jews, nu? We held different from the Jews who were of the two tribes what remained after all that unpleasantness, with the exile and the razing of our Temple, since for many hundreds of years, we had held that the Temple still stood, far away, in the Holy Land. Our ancestors had left Yerushalayim with the Queen of Sheba, accompanying her and her unborn son, and now we had made our way back, accompanying one whose claim to that line was ... oy. It was plausible, nu? And of course, we had Levites and Kohanim among our numbers, then and again ..."

He shrugs, and this time, the pause is a little longer, and less perfunctory.

"If he were of Beys Dovyd, the world was not ready for the Moshiakh," he says, quietly. "I'm told he died in a Castillan prison. I'm told he escaped and made it home, and I'm told he escaped and grew old among the Italkim. But my family's roots, maternal and paternal, those had already sunk into the soil of Prague before we saw the end of him. My mother's people went North and East, my father's went East ... but we stayed in Ashkenaz, took up the Ashkenazi minhag and, nu," he bows, and says, his tone lightening, "here I am. Oy, the whole point of that story is, my family only took up the rabbinical khumra to never eat even chicken with milk when we settled in Prague, hence all the chicken recipes with almond milk. Why forget perfectly good recipes when substitutes can be made, nu?"

[tehilim127_1]

She listens intently, chin cupped in one hand, and at the end of the story smiles -- almost a silent laugh -- at the understanding of what the story has to do with almond milk.

"Of course," she says, "the poultry chumra. And yes, almond milk's a good substitute for dairy in a lot of things -- though it didn't work so well the one time I tried to make milk gravy to go with chicken-fried steak. That is," in a tone like an explanatory footnote, "an American recipe, steak battered and fried in a style more commonly used for chicken, and it's usually served with a gravy involving milk. The steak came out pretty good the one time I tried it, the almond-milk gravy not so much. I keep meaning to try it again with some other substitute, oat or soy maybe, just ... hadn't gotten to it yet."