Thinking about Shadowheart and how during the tiefling party, she’s reserved, reflective, a soft smile at the unexpected warmth she feels from saving the refugees, something she never expected to do, uncertain of this new direction and her Goddess but willing to let the good feelings through for the party, and enjoy a glass of wine while she ponders her complex feelings in the corner and let the others celebrate, perhaps even growing closer to a certain someone in privacy later.
Compare that to goblin party Shadowheart, deep in a bottle of wine and slurring her speech, unimpressed by the obvious elimination of a pitiful target for their goals, successfully spreading her Lady’s Loss and Hopelessness. Who snips with bitter sarcasm at the pointless celebration for such a meaningless accomplishment, sneering at the corpses strewn about. Who knows better than to share her bed, drunk obviously, but likely with anyone here at all. Who stands in the corner not to stay out of the celebrating mood but so she can be left alone to drown the sorrows and grief she won’t admit she feels with stolen wine.
