Who: Zipporah Bakst, Auntie Miriam(NPC), and Ach(NPC) What: the final night of Rosh Hashana Where: The Bakst flat in Whitechapel When: 21 September, 1888 Rating: G
“Shanah Tovah,” Auntie Miriam called out and waved through the open window, and Zipporah heard a “Shanah Tovah Umetukah” echoed back by a neighbor -- upon which Miriam held up her plate of apples dipped in honey and laughed.
There’d been a warming of sorts over the last few weeks -- Paul and Biyali had delivered, and Zipporah’s grandmother’s name had been read properly at services, and the two of them had managed to scrounge up a full Minyan to sing at her gravesite, too. Rabbi Greenberg’s temperament had been significantly improved by the news that a set of Torah scrolls had been commissioned in her grandmother’s name (an incredibly generous gift from Chiara that’d driven Zipporah to tears when she’d received the letter of confirmation). The scrolls would take a year to finish, but it would be a treasured gift for the entire community -- a gift the rabbi knew was contingent on continued positive relations with the Bakst witches.
The women of the neighborhood were by more often now too -- Auntie Miriam’s weekly poker night usually made the rounds, but their house was finally on the roster to host, and it wasn’t unusual these days for one of Miriam’s friends to be sitting in the easy chair, yammering away about the latest neighborhood gossip, while Miriam rocked and cackled.
It was good.
There were still some worries as they looked forward to the new year -- as they dropped their breadcrumbs in the Thames, and took turns bathing, Zipporah tried her best to think of all the future possibilities opening up to her in the coming months rather than her worries about Peter, about the mysterious Miss Carver, and the evil shadow lurking over Whitechapel -- she had a great deal to be grateful for, and didn’t wish to start the new year in too much shadow.
Zipporah’s main task during Rosh Hashana was to perform the Hatarat Nedarim -- the annulment of vows -- on Ach. She’d have him sit, and would erase the symbols across his broad, placid forehead with a swipe of her thumb and a prayer on the Erev Rosh Hashana, and leave him inert in his customary chair during the two days of the New Year celebration before placing his burden on him once more.
She’d been doing it every year since she made him -- it felt right, somehow, to give him the opportunity to rest, and it seemed sometimes as if when she wrote her bidding on his forehead once more, she was giving him a choice for another year as to whether he’d want to re-take his vow to protect her.
It was somewhat silly, she knew -- he had yet to indicate whether he had any thoughts about it at all -- but she did it all the same.
As her auntie turned with her plate of apples and honey to add to the already laden table, Zipporah pressed her thumb once more to the clay of Ach’s head, and as his eyes opened, she brushed his dear cheek with her fingers. “Shanah Tovah, Ach,” she said, nodding her head.