[center][color=007fff][b][u]Azura[/u][/b][/color]
Level 2
Day 3
Location: The Land of Skyrim
[b]Experience: [color=orange]||||||[/color][color=black]||||||||||||||[/color] (6/20)[/b] 
Word Count: 588[/center]

So, the strategy was set.  For all the tensions that troubled and divided the squad of misfits, Azura did not find the plan all that bad, either.  Having returned nothing but a blank face to her 'Ice Witch' misnomer from Ulfric, she nodded when he asked if all was agreed.  As things seemed to wrapping up for the night, Azura allowed her fatigue to seep in and suffuse her.  In the morning prior to departure on this mission she spent hours practicing, and that combined with the brief but action-packed battle earlier weighed on her.  So too did a lingering, subversive pain that she couldn't quite place, though she knew it all too well.  

That pain brought back to mind what she said moments ago.  During the planmaking she offered without hesitation to perform a special maneuver near the river, and while it promised results, she dreaded the backlash such a task would inflict on her were the rite not executed flawlessly.  [i]Why did I jump to, in all likelihood, sacrifice myself?  I owe these people no heroics, and their opinions of me won't improve if I perform for them.[/i]  That was a bothersome impulse, and one that left her both nervous and reflective.  Any spontaneous behavior arising from a burst of latent need for approval could be lethal on the battlefield.  Besides, it wasn't her job as a supporter to play the daredevil.  [i]I just need to survive.  My most basic songs won't eat away at me.  Once I enact my plan, I'll lay low if I'm able.[/i]

With her agenda to control the damage laid out, her thoughts drifted elsewhere.  The food Ulfric offered was standard soldier cuisine, ordinary fare for ordinary men, but in the end Azura did not have to think about it very long.  Food was food, and she did not have the luxury of choice.  After a minute or two of gathering, she returned to the commander's tent with the makings of a crude meal in a bundle of cloth.  Before eating anything, she placed a mug, emptied of ale and filled with fresh snow, by the fire.  A short time passed while she sat next to it, staring into the flames, and when she retrieved the mug she found it full of cool water.  The songstress poured out about half of it in total to wash her hands, after which she finally picked up the food.  In silence she chewed on a hunk of venison, then a small, tough slab of hard tack.  A drink of clear water washed it all down.  For want of anything better to do, Azura then relocated herself to a cluster of barrels on the opposite side of the tent from the Boss's claimed bedroll, and there she took a reclined sitting position on the ground.  Thanks to her soft, voluminous winter coat, her chosen spot could very well serve as a makeshift bed, though comfortable or not she felt tired enough to collapse most anywhere.  Nestling down in her coat, Azura closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, though she had to shift a few times to get comfortable and ended up lying on her side with her arms crossed in such a way as to elevate her head off the floor.  

Though any of the others would be more than hard-pressed to hear it, Azura began to hum herself a sort of lullaby.  With its aid, she was able to shut out the stiffness and cold, and drift closer and closer to slumber.