#p007

Santana sat in the kitchen picking through a bag of potato chips. Ever since the latina found out about Quinn’s vision she hadn’t been out on a night run as she was either spending the night at Quinn’s or at the den with Quinn, which was kind of just fine with Santana since they had other ways of burning off her energy. The latina also hadn’t been able to talk to Puckerman let alone hangout with him since Quinn came into her life, which worried her ever since her mate had told her of the crush that Puck may have on the blonde. She knew nothing would come out of it as mates were basically sacred to wolves and Quinn was hers. She just didn’t Puck to be weird about it anymore.

Blaine quickly made his way over to Jesse’s apartment, keeping his head bowed as he passed the guards who were eyeing him. He hadn’t quite gotten used to the looks, from masters or the staff, but he tried his best to ignore it and instead knocked on the door, straightening his shirt in an afterthought. He was sure he wouldn’t wear it for long, still... first impressions!

Tirdos, 19th of Lost Seed, 4E 201

I woke up to breakfast, a mixture of my and my new bard friend's stores compiled together into a morning stew. We talked for a bit before parting ways, both of us leaving in opposite directions.

I made my way down the path, and after passing a sign, I realized I had gotten a bit turned around. I was heading towards Riverwood instead of Knifepoint ridge, but it wasn't much of a problem to me. I'm sure cleaning out the bandits could wait a bit longer. 

On my way I encountered a few more wolves, and I shot them through before they reached me. When I make my way into town, I will surely have a few nice pelts to sell for coin. 

Riverwood wasn't much farther, and I most likely could have made it there if I had hurried, but I don't have a lantern and do not always trust the night, so it was not a thing I had wanted to do so late.

Upon arriving, I encountered a man who, upon seeing me, immanently starting spouting off about some woman who was his and who did not belong to some other man. I really couldn't care less, but it was a bit startling that he assumed I would care. I asked me about supplies and was told that Alvor, the uncle of the man who helped me escape from Helgen, was the blacksmith. I had forgotten his occupation but made my way to his house all the same, having promised I would.