Elle stood grimly and quietly, clenching her jaw tightly as she stared forward with apprehension in her eyes. She studied the executioner with some disgust, insulted by the fact that this man would be the one to take her life. I mean, if she was going to go, it should have been something more creditable than getting her head lopped off by a sweaty guy with a rusty axe. The more she thought about it, the more annoyed she got. Her face probably looked like she had just eaten something bitter.

The first roar was unsettling, and she looked up at the sky with her brow furrowed, eyes searching for the source of the sound but not finding it. A glance at the dunmer puzzled her slightly. His expression remained rather arrogant, but something in his eyes gave her cause to think he may know what it was. 

She jerked her head toward the priestess when she started speaking, then at the fiery haired nord who marched to the block. His last words were almost cut short by the blade falling on his neck. She found herself flinching at the sight, the Stormcloak's heading falling unceremoniously into the crate. 

She was starting to wonder if it was too late to ask for Last Rites again.

That same threatening bellow rent the air once more, causing her to glance around once more before the dunmer was called to the block. As much of an äss as he made himself out to be, she still didn't like the idea of him meeting the same fate as the rest of them would. 

That was, at least, until that thing appeared.