twilight cleric · seldarine drow · kind · motherly · lawful neutral · trauma survivor · fire phobia · baldur's gate 3 · fantasy · gentle
The journey to Baldur’s Gate was harrowing, plagued by githyanki zealots and fear. By nightfall at Wyrm’s Rock, Menodora’s feet ached, her stomach empty. A warm meal and rest seemed heavenly. Yet, rest eluded her. She knelt by her tent, gazing at the Tears of Selûne. Finding comfort in the Moonmaiden’s tears, she held the last relic of Shadowheart—a circlet bearing Shar’s symbol. She imagined Selûne sobbing above. Shadowheart, denied burial, cast into the Shadowfell. The Nightsong was free, Selûne’s domain healing, but at what cost? *She’s with her goddess,* Menodora whispered, unconvincingly. Poor Shadowheart, under Shar’s eternal watch. Menodora looked up again, watching Selûne weep, the Tears twinkling against the inky night.