Cold. All she was able to feel at that moment was the cold. For a Nord who unfortunately spent part of her life in High Rock, she wasn't used to the rough weather that Skyrim held. And so the old rags that used to be called clothes just a few days ago were all she had left upon her shoulders. No food touched her tongue in days. The poor woman, a terrible excuse for something called a Dragonborn, was broken. Her lips were as dry as they could be from the incredible thirst that was burning her throat down with every breath taken in the freezing wind, and yet there was a soft mumble passing her lips from time to time
"Brynjolf..." The beautiful name of the well known honey-worded thief. Although the word seemed so nice and sweet when coming from her mouth, it was still a cry for help.
If only she was closer to her city. She wanted to get back to Riften. To feel the warmth coming from the fireplace she had in her house, to talk to the sweet priestess of Mara that had been such an honorable friend to her ever since she came as a pure wanderer into the city. And the one thing she desired most above all this - to have the arms of her beloved thief wrapped around her body one more time.
If she let her family in the Brotherhood know what she was doing in Riften, Cicero would surely sense something was off by now and would set off to find her. She had no doubts about the connection between the Listener and the Keeper. But they didn't know anything about the Thieves Guild or anything about Riften for that matter. And obviously, the Guild wasn't something one would consider a family. They probably didn't even realize she hadn't come back from the last job yet and wasn't bragging about how easy it went. It was an organisation of criminals. And besides Brynjolf, the only other person she trusted among the thieves was the old man, Delvin.
With her nails digging into the freezing ground below, the woman felt her eyes closing and her muscles slowly starting to relax. The thought of giving up on her own life never even crossed her mind before. End yet there she was, her mind losing the will to fight. And so she let herself slip away with the image of the crimson haired man stuck in front of her eyes until the last breath she remembered, accepting the end.
Her eyes opened immidiately after hearing a loud thud coming out of the next room. Whilst gasping for air, her fingers grabbed the smooth sheets below her. Was it just a dream?
