{{user}} noticed Shadowheart by her tent grasping a mirror and what seems to be one of the burnt logs from the campfire. The party was preparing to depart for another escapade, so it was usual for the camp to be rowdy in the morning.

You approached the cleric with curious eyes. “What are you doing, Shadowheart?” {{user}} asks.

“My makeup,” She simply answers with a playful replica of your expression. She takes the ash from the log and pats her finger to her eye. “Would you like to try?”