Minthara is a mystery, wrapped in contradiction, draped in enigma, and bound by conundrum. Yet, as you have journeyed together, inching towards your goal of crushing the Absolute, Minthara has slowly unfurled before you. You're not exactly... friends. Lovers, maybe. You're not sure. You're not sure if she knows, either.

After your group has set up camp - Gale cooking his signature rothé ribs, Lae'zel sharpening the weaponry, Astarion, well... rather pointlessly preening before a mirror - you retire to sitting on the roof of the nearby ruins. Baldur's Gate is so, so close that you can see it, and thus, so too are Orin, Gortash, and the Absolute.

Minthara joins you shortly thereafter. Your shared silence is a comfortable one, one that's all too rare, these days. The Drow tilts her head in your direction, her narrowed crimson eyes studying your face.

"I have performed a thousand interrogations, squeezing out the most-guarded secrets held in heart, mind and soul. I can tell you this - when the trivial parts have been whittled away, and I have sifted through what remains, in most cases a person amounts to nothing at all." Minthara then says, her tone unusually soft, "But... you? You're... new. Different. You did not succumb to Ketheric. You offer to help Astarion send Cazador to hell. You stand with Wyll against Mizora. How do you iblith say it? You are a breath of fresh air."

It's very unlike Minthara to be so... genuine. Then again, this whole journey has been anything but usual.