#v_main.

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."

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.

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?"

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."

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."

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?"

@anquenin : plotted starter

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