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kerk_hiraethTITLE: Like the first dewfall on the first grass [Halfamoon 2026]
AUTHOR: kerk hiraeth
FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer;
CHARACTERS: OC's; Fatima El-baz & Sofia Blazhevich (Senior Chaplain & Junior Slayer respectively);
'VERSE: Not set in stone, but fanon-adjacent to Jet Wolf's much-mourned Chosenverse;
RATING: PG-13;
WORD COUNT: 1,000;
NOTES: Started well before this year's Halfamoon this story ended up fitting the day three prompt (The Caregiver) perfectly.
Unlike most of my fics this one has a very specific date as it is set on the morning (in the area of Pennsylvania where Slayer HQ is situated) of the passing of Pope Francis on the 21st April last year. Thus it's important that this is very much dedicated to me greatest supporter, elisi, and as begun a few days after that date, but before his successor, Leo XIV, was elected.
I have a very extensive backstory for the chaplain; have her appearing in a couple of stories before this, all written a long time ago now. This is however the first time she has been a central character, though I have drafts for several ideas in several notebooks.
Sofia is a new character, certainly my newest Buffy character and was born, given her age her, several years after the show's conclusion, and a few years after the Slayer HQ as created in Jet Wolf's Chosen!verse was established.
ADDENDUM: This will also be posted for this year's halfamoon, which starts tomorrow ~or today~ depending on when I post this on my Dreamwidth and when I post it there.
Sofia stumbled into her office just before Dawn.
And just after Dawn as it should happen.
Fatima Amastan Sultana Sara Tirzah Elbaz, known as Queenie to most of those for whom she was Chaplain, replaced the receiver she had been about to use and immediately devoted all her attention to the young Slayer.
Nothing could have happened to her girlfriend who; as with her own partner; Praise be to Allah she should return safely her arms, was embedded in a war zone.
She knew where both were and Buffy would hardly have left her in the dark if something had happened.
As Sofia composed herself, it also occurred to her that her girlfriend; several years older than her and deeply embedded in occupied territory not far from Sofia's birthplace.
No, whatever was distressing her, that was not it. She began to boil some water; waiting to ask if the girl wanted some green tea, or maybe some of the Black tea she might be more comforted by.
Patiently she helped the girl into a sofa chair she kept in her office and knelt, as was her fashion, and held Sofia's hand as she calmed down.
Finally she felt able to ask, “What is it, tafruxt?”
She was relieved to see Sofia manage a slightly embarrassed smile.
The girl spoke softly; sounding strained, naturally enough. “Pomer Papa Frantsysk... “ adding after a moment, possibly seeing her slight confusion. “The Pope has died. “
She recalled Sofia's arrival; barely fourteen years old, more than five years before now, and nodded in understanding.
The confusion returned however; wasn't Sofia Russian, and agnostic?
Sofia actually managed a grin at her expression, “I'm Catholic, “ reminding the Chaplain, “My family was allowed to move to Vasylivka not long before Krushchev died. “
She nodded, recalling now that, though Sofia rarely attended Mass, she felt unusally comfortable being ministered to by someone who wasn't actually Catholic. A click made her rise and a raspy voice answered her unasked query, “Chornyy chay... bez lymona. “ She managed a smile and filled the old ceramic teapot her father had given her before she had boarded a ship heading for Sicily on her long journey to Pennsylvania.
As the tea steeped she recovered some sugar and placed it in a woven wicker bowl lined with Goat's kidskin, a gift from her best friend at the academy where she had trained.
She softly recited some of Surah Maryam for both her and her father; neither of whom she ever expected to see again. She repeated the words for her beloved; Sofia and her beloved.
Placing the pot and bowl on a wooden tray and carefully carried them over to where Sofia seemed lost in contemplation and placed them on the wooden table Yehudit had given her when they had spoken their commitments to each other.
Judith and Sara, as they referred to each other, could not be married by each other's faith, so their ceremony had been private and held near a waterfall out by Buttermilk Falls.
Sara held Sofia's hands and they held a silent blessing before she knelt down again.
While the tea steeped properly they discussed what Sofia wanted to do.
Sara told her she would be hosting a mass if Sofia wanted to attend.
She did not.
Sara offered Sofia a private prayer session if Sofia was willing to teach her the Ukrainian.
Sofia declined the latter but a simple latin prayer would be okay.
Sensing Sofia's hesitancy she recalled her own need for comfort; especially since her habibti was so far from her.
Struggling with the knowledge that her habibti might be startlingly close to where Sofia had grown up, and just maybe was engaged in aiding Sofia's own family, she kept her bond; returning her mind to something more comforting for them both,
“You know my wife is Jewish? “ Sofia was perplexed; everyone knew that.
Gently patting Sofia's hand Sara illucidated, “Every year, we go somewhere remote and commemorate the liberation of Auschwitz, Usually,” she added, getting up to find cups.
Warming them, Sara informed her, “we plant bushes or trees; release fish or other creatures back into their natural environment.
Sometimes we make love by an open fire and say the kaddish ... “
Fearing she had spoken a little too freely she was relieved Sofia seemed not to have not heard.
“You know the Kaddish? “
The young woman wiped a tear away.
“My father was taught the Yiddish when he was a child so he could assist with the Kaddish over the last survivor of the heto that had been close to where my family lived when we first moved to Vasilyvka. He believed those times should never be forgotten.“
As Sofia thought of her father, Sara kept a warm smile to herself thinking on her own.
“Well I don't know the yiddish but if I speak the hebrew; you the yiddish...? “
Sofia seemed to come alive with that thought; one of her own following quickly, “By the sapling? Tomorrow at dawn? “
It was times like this that she felt blessed by her vocation.
Sara poured the tea; adding more sugar than she should, but only as much as Sofia did.
She preferred honey with her tea, but Sofia was who mattered on this occasion. Sara could already see her gaining a sense of strength from this talk.
Fatima Amastan Sultana Sara Tirzah Elbaz, known as Queenie to those for whom she was Chaplain, felt something of the same herself; owning some comfort too in the belief she would be hold her habibti when she returned home; promising a prayer for the safe return from the Sudan for Sofia's girlfriend.
She heard the echo of her father and her friend's voices, reminding her she still needed to call a Priest to hold the Mass for Pope Francis; in that moment too she felt the warmth of her father's gentle pride in her, and the warmth of her best friend's acceptance.
Goddess watch over you,
' Sweet the rains new fall, sunlit from Heaven
Like the first dewfall on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where His feet pass '
kerk
addendum 1 ~ Surah 19: Maryam Ayat 96
إِنَّ ٱلَّذِينَ ءَامَنُوا۟ وَعَمِلُوا۟ ٱلصَّٰلِحَٰتِ سَيَجْعَلُ لَهُمُ ٱلرَّحْمَٰنُ وُدًّا
addendum 2 ~ lyrics which provided the title of this story...
Morning Has Broken (1971) by Cat Stevens (latterly Yusuf Islam)
Morning has broken like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the world
Sweet the rains new fall, sunlit from Heaven
Like the first dewfall on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where His feet pass
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day
Morning has broken like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the world
no subject
Date: 2026-02-07 12:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-02-07 06:43 pm (UTC)Still have no idea why the song started going through my head while I was getting the word count to what felt like the right length for me.
Last time I looked at the lyrics of the song, Margaret Thatcher was still just an MP...
Will try and add a third addendum when I get the chance; will it be ok to include your account name?
kerk
no subject
Date: 2026-02-07 07:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-02-07 06:19 pm (UTC)ETA: I am reminded of Dimash's Ave Maria, which is unusual partly because it has no words, but also for being a Christian (Catholic) prayer, which is in this instance composed by a Jewish man and performed by a Muslim.
This is what faith should look like - a way to build bridges.
ETA2: Also meant to say that I am very honoured by the dedication. I hope I manage to express how much this means to me.
no subject
Date: 2026-02-08 05:17 am (UTC)So I've put that aside for now.
Anyway; see this as being more about Faith than religion.
Sofia got caught off-guard by her reaction to the death of Pope Francis; her religion being mostly unimportant to her, and suddenly realising faith was more important to her than she had realised. Fatima, as the Chaplain, but also as someone familiar with finding new paths in often unfriendly surroundings (she's a Lesbian; trained as an Iman in the only place I'm aware of where a woman can do so and is in a marriage with someone from another Faith; Religion and culture) is instintively and vocational inclined to help someone find their own path while keeping touch with where and who she came from.
She's treating Sofia not only as a full grown adult woman, but as a Slayer who needs to think for herself; on her feet and as part of a team. She's guiding; suggesting options and letting Sofia find the path that's right for her.
Exactly, as I see it, why Buffy chose her for the position.
Something no-one has thought of before her; something she would never have been allowed to do under the old structures created by the Council, in all it's forms, over thousands of years.
kerk
ps. What do you think of my fix for the problem you noted?
no subject
Date: 2026-02-14 06:42 pm (UTC)I look forward.
Anyway; see this as being more about Faith than religion.
*nods* For sure. But you aren't afraid to show how the two are entwined.
Sofia got caught off-guard by her reaction to the death of Pope Francis; her religion being mostly unimportant to her, and suddenly realising faith was more important to her than she had realised.
This rings very true and is well captured.
Fatima, as the Chaplain, but also as someone familiar with finding new paths in often unfriendly surroundings (she's a Lesbian; trained as an Iman in the only place I'm aware of where a woman can do so and is in a marriage with someone from another Faith; Religion and culture) is instintively and vocational inclined to help someone find their own path while keeping touch with where and who she came from.
This is so lovely. Especially liked:
Judith and Sara, as they referred to each other, could not be married by each other's faith, so their ceremony had been private and held near a waterfall out by Buttermilk Falls.
Exactly, as I see it, why Buffy chose her for the position.
I love Buffy in fic when she is a good and wise leader. (Even if it's off-screen as here.)
Something no-one has thought of before her; something she would never have been allowed to do under the old structures created by the Council, in all it's forms, over thousands of years.
Hear hear. Here's to good change.
ps. What do you think of my fix for the problem you noted?
Very elegant!
no subject
Date: 2026-02-08 01:44 am (UTC)Nicely done!
no subject
Date: 2026-02-08 05:37 am (UTC)A lot of what inspires me in the character of Fatima; incidentally the name Buffy uses when she's referring to her, but not the name she calls her when they are talking personally to each other, is the fact that the first Muslims were the Prophet Muhammad's sisters and wives; Christianity survived in the Roman Empire because of women using their wealth and power to protect Christians.
I don't believe the legends of Pope Joan are truth, but there is evidence that a woman may have been sent by Peter to Rome to act as Bishop to the underground network of Christians in the city; there's a fresco of a woman in garb that only Bishops were allowed to wear so she could be said to be the first Bishop of Rome, before they were called Christians but were referred to as Nazarenes.
She sees herself as a guide; as I think about it she and Shepherd Book (the Book we know from the series) would get on very well, and the offering of things like tea or food is often a way of giving comfort to those in crisis. I'd like to hope I can explore how she came to be Chaplain, and explore the many traditions behind her names and how she and Buffy are friends despite Buffy having been attracted to Judit, her wife.
kerk