The Falsehoods of Glass

Tamar Judas: Dawn, Hellscapes, Tea, and Embroidery

Among the people of Pervorsitas, the capital city of the Northern Nations, it is a well-known fact that the Judas family are the descended of the original inhabitant of Former Pervorsitas, though their name has been long since forgotten throughout civilians. This includes the youngest living daughter of this bloodline; Tamar Judas, aged fourteen years. 

Life as an heiress is as expected: pristine, proper, and very, very dull to the average adolescent. Just not Tamar. You see, amidst the chaos of war, famine, poverty, and pestilence, few of the ordinary had sufficient funding for an education. Tamar had no such worry: money came as easy as blood from a cut. Hold your head high, Tamar was taught, as there is no use looking at the slums below.

She continued drinking her brew of tea, her embroidery needle moving with a certainty that her live seemed to lack. "Anwir," she spoke, voice full of a peculiar hesitancy. "Where do we go? After we die, I mean."

Her brother looked up from his own teacup with a trace of surprise in his gaze. "What's this about, Tammy?"

"Curiosity." She answered, as if it somehow made him any less intrigued.

"Well-" The older boy paused, shutting the book he'd been reading. "-I suppose this is a matter of belief. Obviously, the loyal will join the Deity, but I personally believe the sinners are sent to a hellscape of sorts."

"Why? Why would someone put a human soul in purgatory like that?"

"You're a child, Tamar. I wouldn't expect you to consider that some simply deserve it."

"Yes, but where do we draw the line, Anwir? Where does murder become justified? At which point do we separate the crime from the circumstances, if ever? That's what I'm asking you, brother. What happens beyond that is too vast a field to inquire upon."

At this, he seemed to reconsider his previous answer, pondering her rebuttal. He tapped his book as he thought.

"Don't do that," Tamar blurted out. "It makes you more irritating than usual."

At this, Anwir laughed heartily, tilting his head back. "Do you really see me in such a light, little sister?"

"Yes." She replied. "All siblings see each other in that way, Anwir."

"In the gutter, perhaps." He snorted. "You spent so much time in those etiquette classes, you'd think you'd be at least a bit less brash."

"Oh, shut it." Tamar sighed, gently whacking his forearm and pausing her needlework. "As annoying as you are, when we're old and tired, at least we'll remember these sunrise tea times. At the very least, we'll have that."

"Yeah," he said, picking his teacup up again, swirling the brown liquid within before taking a drink from the porcelain container. "At least we'll have that."

As the colors of dawn swirled into the refreshing blue of day, silence befell the household. Within the silence, sat two siblings. A brother, and a sister, each with their own unique identity and beliefs. Yet still, they sat together each dawn for tea. 

Always, together at dawn, for tea.