21 March 2000

Well, the Hall last night went rather well, I think. At least I had fun. Karen was playing Glossaria, an ex-bookworm (literally) librarian whose current obsession for knowledge has expanded into the mysterious world of sex. K.T. brought on a new character, a sixteen-year-old boy who's come to the big city to have his latent psionic ability trained. Glossaria leapt on him like prey. It was fun to watch. (It was especially funny considering who was playing which part.

At any rate, once Gloss makes her conquest, I expect her to mope for a while about how anticlimactic (pardon the pun) it all was - sixteen-year-olds have lots of energy, but not much in the way of skill or control, and Gloss has been feeding her anticipation with the Realms equivalents of Joy of Sex and the Kama Sutra.

Braz's computer was fixed, so Marten was back. He told Zoya he'd stop avoiding her questions, so she finally asked him point-blank what he was doing in Marsember and what he thought was hunting him. Naturally, he avoided the questions, though more narrowly than before. ::grin:: I'm enjoying this, I really am.

I'd spent part of yesterday working on Zoya's history and back-story, so it was all fresh in my mind, and it occurred to me that Zoya was arguing with Marten the way she'd argued with Kevil. When she mentioned it, Matt asked me if I was going ahead with the tragedy - if Zoya was going to fall for Marten only to lose him when MoonDancer returned. I told him I didn't know. It would certainly make for an interesting story arc, though.

It's a grey and rainy day. Spring rain. I didn't want to get out of bed this morning, I really didn't. It was warm and cozy under the blankets. The rain will be good for our yard, but it's not very good for me at work. All I want to do is curl up in a ball and go back to sleep.

Of course, the fact that I was up until after 11 last night chatting after the Hall has nothing to do with it.

Happy first day of Spring.

Word of the Day: propitiate - appease, conciliate. Usually applied to a superior or higher power.

The gods are angry. Can you not hear the drums? Can you not smell the sulfur? Can you not see the omens? The gods are angry, and we will all suffer, dashed to pieces against the rocks of misfortune! Unless...

Unless there is a sacrifice. Yes, a sacrifice. We must butcher the fatted calf, throw our most beautiful virgins into the volcano, wear sackcloth and heap ashes upon our heads. We must propitiate the gods before the drums stop, or...

Foolish woman, do you think you can hide from the gods? Do you think they don't know that you are keeping back the best you have to offer? Bring it forth, I command it!

That's better. This? Is this pitiful pile of offerings all you people have to offer the gods? Do you think this pathetic heap is going to stop the drums? Well. If that's all there is...

Because I am pure, and because I am close to the gods, I shall carry your offerings to them. I shall plead your case before the might and fury of the gods, and beg them to spare your miserable lives. Each of you - go back to your hovels and pray. Pray! The gods demand a sacrifice!

. . .

That noise? Oh, I got them praying to cover the sound of my escape. Turn off that abominable drumming, and let's get out of here.