Waiting.

Riften’s marketplace bustled with life.

Babette sat on the steps to the Temple of Mara, watching the marketplace with a frown. The mark had yet to appear, and she was bored. Unlike Solitude or Whiterun, there were little to no children running about the streets of Riften, and she did not have the luxury of such a disguise.

But it was all right. Patience was something that centuries of existence had taught her. She could wait.

And eventually Time would bring the mark to her.