Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-12599067-20131112013400/@comment-11457306-20131112033722

(Well, that's it then.)

"It seems to matter to a lotta people.  I'm not a true Breton and I'm not a true Nord--I'm rejected by both.  I don't have the Breton aptitude for magic and I'm too small to wield a big axe.  About all I'm good for is thieving--and look where that has landed me."

She stared at her hands, still plucking and twisting the furs. "Now no one will trust me, even.  I don't dare go back to the Guild.  The best I can hope for is an arrow in the back someday or a poisoned drink in a Tavern.  The worst is Bryn will have me brought in so he can kill me himself."

She lay back on the bed and turned on her side, away from Mak. She lay for a long time, her stomach churning, tears streaming down her face and onto the pillow. Finally, exhausted, she drifted off into a trouble sleep, where she was running from a shadowy assassin.