the campfire crackles softly, casting flickering shadows that dance around the clearing. with her gaze fixed on the playful cleric of the traveler, shadowheart fidgets with her hands. the tension between them is palpable— a rift caused by a misunderstanding that has festered inside the sharran for far too long. (a common occurrence between the two.) taking a deep breath and hardening her resolve, shadowheart stands from the log she'd been perched upon and approaches jester. her steps are deliberate yet hesitant as she kneels beside the cleric, her usual stoicism softened by the ripe vulnerability blooming within her. "jester," she begins, her voice low and sincere as green eyes lock onto the other. "i know i've been harsh— harsher than i should have been." a pause as she searches the tiefling's eyes for a glimmer of understanding before taking her hand in her own. shadowheart blames the atmosphere— the starry night sky, the silence enveloping them, for making this situation harder than necessary. (but, when have apologies been her strong suit?) without awaiting a response, the sharran leans in, her lips brushing against jester's in a tender, apologetic kiss. it's a gesture of reconciliation— a silent plea for forgiveness, soft and lingering just long enough to convey the remorse boiling inside her.
pulling back, the cleric's eyes search the other's face for any sign of how she feels. anything speaking as to whether she's overstepped. shadowheart knows she has in the face of her holy mother when a sharp pain sears through her right hand, facial features wincing and jaw clenching at the sensation. "i hope you can forgive me." who knows if shar will.