(Selene, female dragonborn)
I.
She thought she was going to die on that floor, bleeding from a wound in her neck.
She also had a hard time believing any of this was real.
Even when Natesse leapt into her vision, knocking her attacker out of it, it was hard to believe.
The healing magic brought her back to reality. To Caius twitching on the ground from the stab wound in his side. To the warm, wet substance covering her neck and chest that left her head spinning.
To the way she was pulled to her feet and half-dragged out of her home only to see fire coming from the city.
II.
She would have stayed at the inn but Gerdur insisted, the Nord mother wouldn't have 'the woman who saved my brothers life paying for a roof.'
So, she stayed. Despite her distaste at being cared for by what was obviously a Stormcloak family.
"Hey! You've been around, right? Do you have any stories? What kind of weapon do you use? Uncle Ralof uses an axe! Have you ever killed someone? How many—"
"Ask you questions one at a time if you want them answered."
"What kind of weapon do you use?"
"Bows, daggers. Used a double-bladed sword once."
"A double-bladed sword?"
"It's like a pole with a blade on each end, they're very difficult to wield, but fun."
"Wow, I've never heard of one of those."
Selene nodded, "It's a very south-eastern weapon, you wouldn't find one in Skyrim."
"So, when are you going to get better?"
That made her laugh. "I don't know."
III.
It was always the cold that got her. The physical wounds Selene could recover from but the frigid water and the way it made her ache? It hit her too hard.
Brynjolf's warm body and the fire he and Karliah had built, she was lucky for.
It didn't mean she felt lucky.