NB: Seriously. It couldn't get any cheesier than this. Too bad! You'll take what you get - and you'll LIKE IT!


It was the eyes that caught me.

I'd always heard that eyes were the windows to one's soul. So I just thought his windows needed a good washing. The truth was, there was no soul to view - but the windows themselves captivated me.

And now here I am, years later, sitting in bed, reading my new book "Repairing Relationships with Circle of Healing", while sitting next to a pretty grumpy death knight. He's yelling at the TV, threatening to send people on over to the "other side" to hang out with Arthas. I roll my eyes and close my book, and decide it's time to start a game we haven't played in a little while.

I turn my big dwarven doe eyes over to him, and say, in the most earnest voice I can muster... "Darf? Honey? Why do you love me?"

He freezes - in that superior way only Death Knights can.

Slowly he turns his head to face me and gives me a suspicious look. "What do you mean 'why do you love me'?"

"Well what are your reasons? What are the details about me that made you fall in love with me?"

"Fall... in love... with... wha?"

".. Are you saying you don't love me? Is that what you're telling me?!" I start to leak wet stuff from my eyes. Now he's starting to panic. I'm evil, I really, truly am.

"Jessabelle... it's not that.. it's just that... Dammit I'm here aren't I? Isn't that enough of an answer?!"

Once he starts getting angry, I know that the game is over, so I lift my face and beam gloriously up at him. "Touche! Guess you're right."

His eyes narrow and he growls at me. That's kinda hot actually, hm. That ghoul needs to go, though.

I know he loves me, even though he is completely incapable of really saying it, or why he feels that way, and half the time of even showing it. I knew what I was getting into from the very beginning. I know his heart is frozen somewhere below Icecrown, and I know he scoffs at the mere concept of "empathy". But I also know that everytime I've tried to leave, he's Death Gripped me right back, pouting and chastising me in indignant rage. He doesn't know how to show love, but he has anger and resentment mastered. Sometimes I just have to fill in the blanks.

How did a healer such as myself end up with this guy anyway?

Well, behind every holy priest is a shadow priest just waiting to be dual specced. I guess I have my darker side too.

"You should stop pouting and turn out the lights, Darf."

"I don't want to go to sleep. I'm not tired, dammit."

"Who said anything about sleep? I'm not tired either."

Another suspicious glare, and then a deep mournful sigh.

"Oh alright. I'll power through it. The baron always told me to 'Suffer Well', after all."

The room goes dark at exactly the same moment my fist makes contact with his shoulder.

I am just a worthless liar
I am just an imbecile
I will only complicate you
Trust in me and fall as well
I will find a center in you
I will chew it up and leave
I will work to elevate you
Just enough to bring you down

Our fearless leader really needs to shave his legs next time he dons his cheerleading skirt.

Don't get me wrong, his words are effective - he advocates lots of group hugs and positive reinforcement. But my eyes keep shifting to his legs that are bouncing up and down with excitement as he wields his pom poms and cheers: "E-G-A! E-G-A!"

I catch the 'Lock across the table from me rolling his eyes, and turning to face the corner of the room where our resident pally tank is trying to finagle an extra round from the bartender. She's attempting sneakiness with his back turned - I can see her reaching for the bottle of vodka. She's leaning over the bar, and I hear the same 'lock mumble something about "Buns of Saronite!"

Locks. Yeesh. I roll my eyes and turn to face my death knight.

He is currently participating in a very heated "discussion" with the slightly less leery 'lock across the table from him about who originally "invented" D&D.

So far this meeting has not been very productive.

I sigh and rest my forehead in my hands before I direct my gaze towards the corner of the room we've all been avoiding all night. There sits an empty chair. Its original inhabitant seems even more noticeable due to her absence, and my heart gives a lurch.

I miss her.

I know it's ridiculous. It's not as though I don't see her all the time outside of this room. I can still talk to her. I know she was no longer enjoying the conversations held in here, and it was all weighing her down. I cannot and do not begrudge her one iota for her decision to depart. But I cannot deny that her presence always comforted me somehow.

I close my eyes and think of her parting words.

"It has become apparent that I have outlived my usefulness and I've been disenchanted for some time now, so it is time for me to say goodbye."

My eyes begin to sting as I start to finally understand what she meant.

The leery 'lock has summoned his Succubus for personal entertainment, and our Pally tank is glaring at the whip-wielding wench while knocking back a few swallows from her bottle. The death knight and the other 'lock are now standing, gesticulating wildly at each other and yelling, even though it's quite obvious they are having fun with the debate. Our rogue leader is showing off his cartwheels.

And I have no idea what use I serve anymore. With my fellow healer, and her gentle, unselfish nature, gone from the room, I feel as though I'm constantly fighting a losing battle. She is the reason I am the way I am. She taught me to heal for the sake of healing, for love of others, stranger or not. She taught me to extend that healing nature to every aspect of my life. But how can I heal the rift in this room that isn't even visible to the naked eye? How can I do it without her? In her absence, I have taken her place as the matronly figure in the room. I'm the short momma dwarf that constantly wants to smooth things over between everyone. Unfortunately, I begin to realize that I seem to be the one causing all the problems. I am outvoted and parried at every decision. I cannot suppress just how much I care. I think of the non-leery lock's words, that my friend takes on too much, that she brings it on herself because she cares too much, and I recognize that my death knight has said the same exact thing to me at regular intervals. But how can I stop caring? A half-hearted attempt from me is still a hell of a lot of heart.

It shouldn't matter so much, but it does. Every little detail matters a great deal to me. And because I let it get to me, it is tearing me apart. It shouldn't hurt me so much when my fellows knock down one of my ideas, telling me how it's all wrong. Even if I put so much effort and thought into each idea I throw out there. And as each block piles against me, I understand even more why she may have left. Not due to resentment at not getting things our way, but because it hurts. It is a lot of worry and caring and stress and hurting that eventually weighs you down, and you snap.

It's not the fault of those around me - it's my own issue. I cannot seem to detach myself, because I always worry that if I do, others will be disappointed in me, or I will hurt them in return. I have a constant desire to run away and hide back at the Abbey in Elwynn Forest. What have I gotten myself into?

But my death knight has informed me that I need to learn to detach, if I am to retain my emotional well-being. I cannot allow myself to get so caught up in this all the time.

I lift my head and decide that I'm not going to try to make this meeting productive. I'm not going to try and advocate for anyone this time, or throw out any new ideas that will, in all likelihood, be shot down. When I leave this room, I will go spend some private time with my healing mentor, and enjoy her company in a non-official capacity. I have to learn to let things go; I have to learn to detach. But I don't have to give up. And I refuse to run away.

I stand and drag my stool over to sit next to my wobbly Tank friend, who is now sneering at a very mischevoius succubus, whose master is giggling fiendishly, and throwing "That's what she said!" remarks into the slowly dying argument between his fellow lock and my death knight. I grab a mug of ale and tap her vodka bottle with it. She smiles down at me.

"Fuu, let's start a new drinking game...."

As I walked through the portal into Naxxramas for the first time, I could not suppress the chills of excitement that ran through me. For any Paladin, the sickly sweet scent of undeath makes our trigger fingers itch, and our innate desire for retribution and purification burn. I took a deep breath, and felt my pupils dilate. I hungered for the act of cleansing this reprehensible establishment of the creatures I knew dwelled within.

Unfortunately, due to the constraints of being a Paladin healer, my healing skills were not required by my fellow adventurers. Tonight, my first time in the infamous Naxxramas, I would be wielding my trusty mace in an attempt to slaughter monstrous fiends, not restore the life of my allies. In my eagerness to involve myself in these activities, I agreed with little hesitation. Honestly, how hard could it be to bonk some undead heads instead of heal?

Ugh.

As groups of monsters assaulted us from all angles, I found myself flailing my weapon wildly around me, or at least, as wildly as anyone can flail a deceptively weighty two-handed mace. I might have hit Yusuf a few times. I probably hit him more often than the spiders. Oh well. Being a good sport, he continued to encourage my efforts, and assured me that I was doing fine.

In my eagerness to Exorcise the demons from within the creatures headed our way, I found they often did not appreciate my attempts on their behalf, and though Yusuf scrambled to distract them by calling them motherless fiends and all other manner of truly not very polite nouns, they seemed to think it was more fun to melt my face to the floor before going after him. Maybe they were right. After several resurrections from my healing friends, I finally decided to take a more cautious route. Dear Light from above, I suppose I underestimated the power of these wiley foes!

Unfortunately, I had not yet mastered all my retribution skills, and would accidentally cast Divine Storm at random intervals while nowhere near any foes. When I did finally get somewhere near our targets, I somehow often managed to walk about three inches PAST them and start wielding my heavy mace through the air, finding no purchase and staring around with a flummoxed expression. I imagine it required nothing short of a Herculean effort on Yusuf’s behalf to suppress snickering at the various bemused looks on my face, but I cannot deny that my Warrior friend has a measure of honor that surpasses many of my expectations.

I continued to hold my head high as with each boss I better managed to actually contact their flesh with my mace, despite the giggles of one or two silly mages. Honestly, it’s easy for them to laugh; They barely even have to move, except when they are running away, wailing loudly about their lack of armor. Wimps. I’ll remember that next time I’m in charge of triage.

Near the end of the night, as we faced the giant spider Maexxna, I finally found my groove. Oh yes, this is nice – I can stand 5 feet away and STILL miraculously use my mace. But the best part was to come later as I heard the call of one of my healer comrades…

“Help! I’ve been web wrapped!”

YES. GLORY IS MINE. So sorry for your pain, my dear friend. So sorry that I really do not have the ability to free you from your webby demise. Hopefully those whiny mages will find themselves face to face with some mini-spiders. NOW I HAVE AN EXCUSE TO HEAL.

*FLASH!* ~Heal~ *FLASH!* ~Heal~

Don’t worry Yusuf. My mace may miss on occasion, but my heals are always glorious.