#v_main.

[shdowheart]

@thievary : [food] sender brings food over to receiver's tent.

the quiet of the night was a welcome reprieve from the constant trials of the day. shadowheart was always more than accepting for a moment of solitude to delve into her sharran studies, her focus intent on the small book in her lap, its contents filled with the cryptic script of her faith. her reverie was quickly interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps approaching, though. eyes look up just in time to see her tent flap reveal niamh moving with her usual quiet grace. watching as the rogue sets a plate of hearty food on a makeshift table, shadowheart's curiosity piques by the unexpected visit. and action. arching an eyebrow, the half-eye attempts to suppress a small smile, failing in the process. "i see your subtlety extends beyond just your thievery," she speaks up dryly, although there's a hint of warmth laced throughout her voice. "thank you." reaching for the plate, a welcome sight after a long day (and reading), the cleric gestures to an empty spot beside her. "join me. it's not often we get a chance to share a meal without some impending disaster looming over us."

[shdowheart]

@blueheals : [apology] a kiss offered as a way to apologize or make amends.

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.

[shdowheart]

@threecardtrick : better to hide than fight, sometimes.

shadowheart regards mr. cromwell with a measured gaze, her eyes narrowing as she processes his words. the shadows of her past and weight of her allegiance to shar were ever-present in her mind, and she understood far too well the value of discretion versus confrontation. though, she couldn't argue— some situations required action over cowering. "perhaps you're right," she replies, voice low and smooth, tinged with an edge of caution. "there are times when concealment serves better than open conflict. one must recognize when it's necessary to stand and face the threat head-on, though." taking a step closer, her gaze unwavering, the cleric searches his expression for the deeper intent. there has to be a deeper intent, right? "both paths require a certain kind of... strength." hiding can be a strategic retreat— to gather one's wits and strike with stark precision later. hiding without purpose is merely fear in disguise, though. "tell me, when you choose to hide, is it with a plan in mind? or are you simply delaying the inevitable?"

[shdowheart]

@feminurge : [bite] a playful kiss that involves some light biting.

out of the chaos that had come to define their lives, the two had managed to carve a brief moment of respite. in the quiet, the cleric felt a thrill that mingled desire with curiosity. her eyes glinting with mischief as she regards the storm sorceress, shadowheart steps closer before gently cupping istar's cheek. "you are a paradox," the sharran murmurs, her voice a soft caress. "unpredictable, deadly— everything a girl could desire." it was almost as if she had finally won the fairytale every girl dreams of: the lost girl finding her beacon of light through the shrouded darkness. her lips curl into a wry smile, heart racing with a symphony of anticipation— each beat synonymous to the rhythm of a goblin war drum. "i think we've earned this." leaning in, their breaths interweave, the proximity electric before she claims istar's mouth with her own; the touch fleeting, a tantalizing promise of more to come.

and, as the sharran promises, she makes sure to deliver.

without warning, shadowheart turns more insistent with her kiss— her teeth lightly sinking into the other's bottom lip. the taste of blood, metallic and intoxicating, intertwines with the kiss, adding a primal edge to their connection. something shadowheart didn't even know resided inside her. (time in the wilderness is a great place for self-reflection and self-discovery, as she's learning every day.) pulling back slightly, her lips tingling from the contact, her eyes darken with desire. "i could get used to this."

[shdowheart]

@blueheals : we're on the same side, last time i checked!

shadowheart stands tall, eyebrows furrowing as she observes the tiefling. her cheerful demeanor was a stark contrast to the half-elf's more reserved and cautious nature, driving even more of a wedge between the two clerics. loosely crossing her arms over her chest, shadowheart's armor creaks softly. "we are on the same side," she replies, voice remaining measured and calm, though a hint of skepticism still lingers throughout her tone. "but alliances can be fragile little things, especially in times of panic." there's a pause, the cleric's gaze softening a fraction. a common goal is shared between the two— rid themselves of the mindflayers' parasite that has claimed residence inside their heads. although, a common goal can only go as far as the two allow. and, right now, shadowheart's reluctance is becoming a chip in the matter. out of impatience, her right hand tightens on the handle of her battle mace. "if you truly mean what you say, then i will see it in your actions. we have a long road ahead and i would rather travel it without unnecessary conflict."

[shdowheart]

@6pawn : strange. i've had more freedom this past while than my whole life…

she regards the vampire spawn with a hybrid of curiosity and empathy. the cleric has always maintained a guarded demeanor, crafted over years, but the depth of dalyria's statement resonates with her own experiences. shar, freeing herself from shackles that had existed since her childhood— unbeknownst to her all this time. "freedom," shadowheart muses softly, her eyes narrowing as if she was capable of probing the very essence of the word. "it's a rare gift. to taste it after a lifetime of chains— physical or otherwise. it can be... disorienting." a step is taken closer to the other, her expression becoming one full of thought. after so long serving her deity, following orders without question— she realizes how constricting that life was; shar was like a cobra, wrapping herself around the body until no oxygen remained. until no soul was left. shadowheart gaze softens at the mental revelation, a rare occurrence for someone often shrouded in mystery and darkness. before returning to speaking, she quietly clears her throat. "what will you do now with this newfound freedom? where do you see it taking you?"

[shdowheart]

as the sun sets and the moon rises, silence falls upon their encampment for the night. (the only exception is the stray passing animals rustling the nearby trees as they scurry by.) with another day coming to a cease and no more answers regarding the second resident burrowed into their brains— shadowheart begins moving to her tent, a yawn escaping her lips. the thought of retiring for the evening sounds more pleasant than one could imagine. however, a new thought dawns on her, halting any further rapture oozing from her thoughts. the usual chatterbox of their camp (and, no, she's not thinking about gale) has been awfully quiet tonight. too quiet. quiet enough for the sharran's thoughts to begin bubbling to the surface, creating a surge of unpleasant alarm through her body. (or, perhaps it's residual trust issues.) with three steps backward, she halts as soon as she's in front of the vampire, green irises narrowing once she's settled. "you're being awfully quiet tonight, astarion. what are you planning?"

@anquenin : plotted starter

[bhaaliure]

@moonache : steeples fingies at you. did you kill the bard.

all the pointing fingers aim at her—— there's no escaping this claim. not while elyria's nightshirt is still drenched in the bard's blood, wet and raw viscera still living under her nail beds. (she's almost tempted to lick it away, praying shadowheart's finger would disappear from her eyes as she does the action.)

as the drow stares down the allegations thrown her way, she can't help but feel a pang in the pit of her stomach. not of grief, guilt, or even nausea—— but of anxiety. "no. yes. maybe." her words are like arrows being loaded into a crossbow: quick, fast-firing, and missing every target. a deep breath is exhaled, slender digits running themselves through silver strands of hair. "i'm not sure." is the answer she lands on—— it's the closest to the truth elyria can provide.

she already knows another answer, though. even if she can't remember—— if the drow's a visible crime scene, she must've done the crime. just as everyone else can perceive as well.

wiping any evidence of guilt on her face, she's quick to replace any frown by pressing her lips into a straight line. silence falls over the camp momentarily, the sound of breathing filling the quiet void until her gruff voice fills the atmosphere once more. "oh, fuck it—— did you hear her singing at the grove? you should be thanking me for saving the world from that. i'm actually a hero."

as if she didn't do enough damage snatching the poor girl's lute and slamming into the cliff's edge.