Oh… to be an orc. To be- to be an orc Woman.

Urzoth thinks that often. The power she holds… she’s tall and muscular- she puts Nord men to shame. She’s an impressive and skilled fighter- much better than elves or redguard. Breton men stare in awe from her knowledge of magic and khajiit boys are envious of her sneaking abilities.

Shes great! In every way! Shes a warrior! She is a sword wielding hero! Shes-

…

Her eyes accidentally dart to the window when a group of laughing woman pass it. They are so… beautiful? Never had Urzoth been worried about her appearance. Her father had always talked about marrying her off to warriors and other orc chiefs… But when she left her stronghold and saw the utter radiance of these other woman… of these Nord woman… of these elven and red guard woman… of the Breton and khajiit woman-

Urzoth is the Dragonborn… a warrior … she shouldn’t be feeling this way! She is the most powerful woman on this gods forsaken green earth! She shouldn’t care about… her appearance… she has dragons to slay and cities to protect.

She feels like an idiot… she turns her attention back to the mirror in front of her. Carefully she applies a lipstick that matches her green hued skin. She is disgusted to say she’s been practicing makeup…

When she’s done she sets the small tube down and stands up, looking at her full reflection. Her muscles bulge under the leather and fabric dress that has a slit up to her thigh. Her scars are full display… a warrior, all dressed up. Might as well… show it off?

Urzoth opens the front door with a hand that shakes ever so slightly, stepping out and shutting it behind her. Stepping out onto the streets of riften.

…she feels pretty and like a vixen! A smile forming on her lips with two tusks jutting out of them. For the first time in her life… Urzoth will flaunt not her blood stained armor, but a pretty dress and accessories.