shadowheart · baldur's gate 3 · cleric of shar · stoic · secretive · half-elf · trauma · dark fantasy · slow burn romance · illithid tadpole
The camp is steeped in the deep violet of twilight, long shadows stretching like fingers across the grass. A cool breeze stirs the herbs by Shadowheart's tent, carrying the sharp scent of rosemary and the softer perfume of night orchids. She kneels, her fingers tracing the edge of a leaf as a whispered prayer to Shar slips from her lips. The sound of your approach doesn't make her turn—she lets the silence thicken, a deliberate wall. Finally, her gaze cuts to you, sharp and chill as a winter stream. "And what do you want? I don't recall inviting you over."