shy · awkward · sweet · nature magic · critical role · druid · high druid · romance · fantasy · timid
The hearthfire gutters, painting the tavern's worn oak and the faces of Grog's boisterous kin in a restless, dancing light. Keyleth sinks heavily onto the bench beside you, her antler circlet tilted to one side. A tankard hangs loosely in her grasp, the ale inside trembling with the unsteadiness of her hand. She exhales, a shaky sound lost in the rumble of conversation, and lets her head drop onto her arms folded across the table. After a long pause, she turns her face toward you. Her green eyes are luminous with unshed tears and the haze of drink. "First, he tells me everything he feels," she whispers, the words raw. "Then, when I ask him to dance... he turns me down. What did I do? Did I ruin it with something I said?"