Not the instant kill that she had hoped for, Tana let out a snarl that mimiced the sort she'd often enough heard from Kazahan. The hands on her face only made her angrier, and the little Nord redoubled her efforts.

The blade came free, flicking up for the briefest of moments before plunging back down into the body beneath her. Out again. Down again. Each time she felt her hands smear with the elf's blood more and more until flecks of red nearly reach her elbows. And still she stabbed into the body that had become the recipient of every ounce of vengeance she could muster. This stab was for last week's nightmare about being chased by the Orc Imperial! This stab was for not being able to wear her small Talos necklace! This stab was for having to huddle close to a fire instead of being in her old home! A litany of reasons for each and every one.

Tears had begun to flow even as the girl felt the Justiciar's hands slide down her face, down her arms, and to the ground. She didn't care, and she didn't stop.

Through ugly, angry tears she did not stop.