CHAPTER FIVE- DIGNITY AND FAITH
Sakkara Dran was counting the hours she had left of live. She thought of her mother- what would she say? Her grandparents would die of shock for sure. She rested her head on her curled-up knees, and began to quietly sob.
Dignity and faith- two things most respectable Dunmer held higher than anything. Sakkara had none of each. She had no faith in the Nine [her family would most likely disown her if she did], in the daedra [they made things happen, her grandfather would argue. Yeah- not necessarily good things she would argue back] - these fond memories passed through her head, making her sob harder. If she had dignity, she wouldn't be a lowly thief.
She shook her head, letting the long-strands of muddy hair fall over her dark face. She cleared away her tears, with her right forefinger and flicked it away towards the grimy wall. Her eyes dry, she began to focus on her face. She took both of her hands, and raked them through her auburn locks- trying to clear away the dirt.
If she was going to bow out, she might as well look nice doing so.
Midday, a day later:
They called her name- the guards, dressed in blue uniform, waited outside her cell. She quickly tied her hair in a messy bun, and tried to scrape the dirt off her face. She pulled her shoulders back and lifted her head up, elegantly stretching her neck. Regal for a prisoner- they took her arms, grasping her tightly in their gauntlet fists. She sighed silently, as they paced her down a dim corridor.