[i]”You remember what I said, little sister.” Mire said, inclining his head towards the boats, “Keep your head.”

“On your shoulders and your wits.” Brittle said, looking at his knife as he rubbed it with an oil cloth, an easy smile on his face as if he'd only wished his farewells.

She frowned, which given her face these last few days, her visage barely changed. Turning around, she felt like she'd ran into a lantern post, but shaking her head and looking up, found it was instead her father. It was the first time they'd met eyes for any more than a moment. He held hers and she forced herself to return his gaze. He laid a hand on her shoulder and that reassuring weight, that warmth, that feeling of caring and love despite all she'd done to warrant the chopping block... it almost broke her all apart.

“Come back to me safe, my little Thane.”[/i]

She nodded, then realized her eyes were closed. She'd dozed off on the boat and rose to her feet, bogged down by the weight of her fatigue. She growled, slapped at her face to wake herself up and stretched her neck out on one side, then the other. She stood there, nothing but the creaks and moans of the ship rocking and shifting with the waves. Somewhere above her, Keegan was heaving up whatever meager rations he'd put in his belly. She let go a sigh and picked up her waterskin- the one that was filled with water- and poured herself a mouthful to gulp down before going to the topdeck. What she saw there was enough to take her aback. The destruction was so complete that if she had never known the College was neighbored by a town called Winterhold, she would have thought the little clutch of huts and houses were never there. “Shor's bones.”

She stood staring, wondering what the chaos was like in those moments, the fear that gripped each unexpecting citizen. It brought her back to those moments in the caverns, the feeling of complete helplessness as she felt the rope bridge snap, the feeling of defeat as she felt herself become weightless, then the furious surge of her will to live as she grabbed onto the stray rope. The rest, she shook from her head with a grimace like she'd bit into shit. When they began filing into separate parties to get onboard two dinghies, she decided to go with Roze and Sevine. Those two she knew, at least. One, a hero, the other... the other... well, she was an amusing presence, at least. As some of them conversed, she stayed quiet. She stayed like that for an uncomfortable while, weighing out the choice between talking and not as if it were choosing which one of them would die. In the end, she picked Sevine. To talk to, that is. She struggled for something to say, feeling of a sudden that she was a stranger and not someone she'd fought death wrapped in metal alongside. She coughed into a fist and bit the blade, as they say, “Shit weather, ain't it?” [i]Good, silver tongued as always,[/i] she scolded herself.