Tuesday, February 1, 2000

1 February 2000

Ta-da! Yes, providing you with the latest in relief from pink frills and hearts, it's this month's new design!


Don't mind me; I'm a little sleepy today. Last night was... eventful.

On last night's MeadeHall I finally carried out a plan I've been working on - and towards - since October. Namely, my character Maeli died.

Maeli was something of an experiment for me. In an environment dedicated to adventurers, she was completely unremarkable and mundane. She was a seamstress without peer and a fair midwife, but she had no mystical powers. She had never been an adventurer, though her older brother had - he is still alive, a mage of some reknown in far parts of the world. She was frequently crotchety, an incurable busybody, and demanded the respect she felt was due her age - she was over ninety in a setting where mundanes rarely live beyond fifty.

Anyway, at one point I had Maeli come into the Hall shortly after supervising the birth of her youngest granddaughter's first child, and I began to toy with the idea that Maeli - unlike most Hall patrons - was going to die of old age. Hall patrons have died before, usually in a spate of violence. Some of them are immortal. None of them expect to die of old age, however, and the novelty of this idea grew on me. Maeli had outlived her husband and most of her children, and as the months passed, she weakened slowly and steadily. Finally, last night, sitting in front of the Hall's fireplace with her omnipresent knitting and a cup of tea, she dozed off and passed away.

It turned out to be an even more emotional event than I thought it would be. I thought that the other characters would realize she'd died, consider the possibility of bringing her back to life (yeah, most of them are that powerful) decide not to - that she'd lived a long, full life - and maybe say a few kind words about her, perhaps shed a tear or two. And I thought the players would barrage me with private messages asking if this is really what I want, sigh mournfully, and continue on.

Wow. I forgot how closely tied up with our characters we are. Jeff had the expected reaction, but Karen - whose character Lisl had been both contemplating her own aging and worrying over Maeli's fragility - confessed to bawling her eyes out. Matt looked at me pitifully. "Did Maeli just die?!?" he demanded.

I nodded.

He closed the gaming book he'd been leafing through and slammed it down on his table. He was furious, and for a while I thought he was actually angry at me. On the Hall he revealed that his character Rhys had a potion of longevity that he'd been planning on giving Maeli, as soon as he found the right time. (I didn't try to tell him that she would've refused the potion, though I'd decided weeks ago that she would refuse all magical solutions to her weakening state - she knew she was dying, and was almost relieved to know she would soon be able to lay down her burdens.)

I was touched by Karen's reaction, but Matt's floored me. It angered me, too - how dare he get this angry? I didn't deserve having things slammed at me. (Understand, Matt's been extremely tense for a couple of months now, and I've been walking on eggshells because it seemed like the dumbest little things had been setting off his temper. This tantrum was the nether end of Too Much.) I was emotional over Maeli's death, myself - I'd grown to love the old biddy while I was playing her, and it takes a lot of emotional strength to kill a character.

I tried to blow up back at him, but couldn't; I was too drained. I went into the bathroom and thought about locking myself in for a while, but I was fighting some kind of nervous energy and couldn't sit still. I went back to my computer, but one look at Matt - resolutely glaring at his computer, refusing to even look at me - and I couldn't sit there, either. I went downstairs with every intention of finding a dark corner to curl up into and waiting for him to calm down again. But I couldn't stay away. I paced around the kitchen, then came back up the stairs.

As I came back up the stairs, I encountered Matt, who was coming to explain that he wasn't mad at me - just upset that Maeli had died. The dam broke - the nervous tension that had been building up in me just exploded, and I broke down. Standing in the dark hallway, both of us crying, I told him that he'd been operating on a short fuse for months and that I was tired of it and I wanted to know when I was going to get my husband back.

Matt was surprised. He hadn't realized that his tension had been outwardly noticeable. That wasn't hard for me to understand - I've done the same thing on occasion. He mentioned a few things that were causing the tension and which I'd sortof suspected. He promised to try to keep a better rein on his temper, now that he knew it was a problem. He wondered why I hadn't said anything before, and I explained that the timing was always wrong: I didn't think he'd listen to me when he was in the midst of being irritable, and I hadn't wanted to ruin his good moods by bringing it up. (I had in fact attempted to tell him on a few occasions when I thought he was overreacting, but been brushed aside.)

Finally, reconciled but still shaky with reaction, we went back to our computers to let Karen and Jeff know we hadn't spontaneously combusted. Since there was no way we were going to sleep until we relaxed, we sat and chatted with them until Karen had to leave at 11.

I'm glad the subject was finally broached. It had been needed for a long time, and if it was the emotional catharsis provided by Maeli's death that allowed it, then so be it. Now, hopefully, like opening an infection and draining the pus, it will finally be able to heal.

But I'm very tired this morning.

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