#casuallyfalls

This year’s Art Fight attacks

Rusalka didn’t usually sing.

 Then again, it didn’t usually snow this lightly in Windhelm, of all places.

 Just how the cold-hating thief had ended up so far north escaped even her, but instead of cozying up in some tavern, she found herself nestled in the gable of a roof, hastily pulling a dull bodkin through a rip on the worn leather of her Thieves Guild armor. When only the susurrus of the wind and the sanctity of snow came against her, she sang to fill the silence- hushed, but persistently.

“Pángur Ban, Pángur Ban,

Nil sa saol se ach ceo.

Is ni bheimid beo,

ach seal beag gearr.”