Ralph
Hjera rarely found reason to be out and about in Riften, but as of late, she'd tried to find at least one. 

When she first arrived in Skyrim, she had been terrified. Terrified that she might do something horrible, lose control of her animal nature, dishonor herself and the All-Maker with evil deeds. The minotaur from the grove had told her that this wasn't her destiny, but it had taken her quite a bit of time to really... *Accept* That she wasn't doomed. 

Now that she had, though, she found things just a little bit easier. She walked with a confidence she hadn't possessed before. She could enter and exit Riften without fear (well, save for the fear of pickpockets and ne'er-do-wells, but that was a matter of course in Riften). And, more importantly, she could trade the pelts and meats she collected in the wilds for coin. That coin could be used to buy better clothes, better weaponry, food and supplies that allowed her to range more comfortably in the wilds. She had a tent now, and supplies to better make camp besides. Pots, a spit, utensils for cooking and cleaning game more easily, things like that. 

She felt... Better. Better than she had in a very long time, and that was something to be proud of.

For now, Hjera was simply plying her wares in the market. She'd already delivered some of her bounty to the Bee and Barb, and her contact in the undercity had taken his cut with a little 'incentive' (she had no idea why, but she wouldn't say no to free gold). That just left her hawking the rest of her goods in the small handcart she'd bought with some of her leftover gold.

She wasn't doing a particularly good job, sadly. Turns out, you needed social skills to be a saleswoman.
Danielle
||forgot to tag you lol
James
As she was exploring the Marketplace of Riften, she could easily spot a man wearing rather unique armor. His helmet being in shape of an onion could easily be seen past the bustling crowds, and his armor was large in size with a heavy greatsword by him with a odd small shield made out of iron with a spike protruding from it.

As for what this knight was doing, he was giving away money to a homeless Bosmer woman. Her hair was matted, her face dirty, and a simple rags to cover her were begging to wear and tear. But Siegwind would lay down some extra blankets and offer a large some of gold, tears were beginning to form on the mer's face as she looked up at him. Siegwind would give a nod and a pat on the shoulder before he began to walk away from the homeless woman, whose life he may have changed for the better.
Ralph
Hjera's eyes wandered from her little stand, occasionally skirting past the other merchants, or the town blacksmith, and eventually, to a rotund-looking knight in a rather silly-looking suit of plate. Hjera would have laughed at his face if she hadn't seen what he was doing. She hadn't been in Skyrim long, but she'd seen how her cousins treated the Elves. In Skaal lands, a guest of any race was to be treated with kindness and generosity, but the Nord-cousins treated everyone with a long-ear as if they were a pest on the land. It bothered her, but never enough to say anything outright.

She had no idea who this armored man was, or what he was doing here, but he clearly wasn't like these Nords. As he walked away from the elf-woman, he turned in her direction. Seeing an opportunity to repay rare kindness with further rare kindness, she waved to him. Someone at the temple of Mara had told her that Mara favored those who treated others with love and kindness, so she intended to try and live up to that standard.

"You, there," She said, trying to wave him down and get his attention. "Armored man. Come here."
James
His head turned like a puppy as he would looked over at her and wave back before making his way over. His steps were heavy, and the clanking of armor only grew louder with each step.

Soon he reached her.
"Ah, how can this knight help you on this fine evening." He asked her in a polite, yet jollyful tone.

"Oh, I am Siegwind. Pleasure to be of your acquaintance, who might you be?" He asked, seeing how he forgot to introduce himself before offering any sort of assistance towards the woman.
Ralph
"Hjera," She greeted him, " And you can't help me, at least not right now." Her Skaal accent slipped through in spite of her best efforts to tame it. She was still a foreigner in these lands, and she'd seen how the Nords treated foreigners, though this man treated them far better it seemed. Regardless, nothing could be done. She pushed forward, bulling past her anxiety and unease to look over the 'knight' at the shoulder, over at the Bosmer woman.

"Did a good turn for that elf," She said, before turning her full attention back to him. "I noticed. You look well-travelled. I do not know if you live here, or where you stay. But if you intend to leave..."

She motioned to the cart behind her, and the meats sectioned off within it, some dried and smoked, some cured, others still fresh and covered with sturdy, clean cloths. "Take something. Whatever you need for your journey. One kindness deserves another. Too many people ignore others in need, especially here."
James
Siegwind looked behind him at the young Bosmer who had a large smile and got up to spend the large sum of coin are clothes and perhaps a hot meal, haircut even. He had hope the second chance he had gave her would be enough for her to have a stable life.

"Poor girl lost her farm to a sudden fire, if you had my guess, probably the Thieves Guild. Bandits normally don't destroy farmsteads, they like to rob them so they can make more food for them later down the line." He shook his head at the thought of burning somebody's home for a coin.

He then would wave off her offer to receive one of her merchandise items for free, follow with a small laugh.
"Oh my, I appreciate the gesture. But I must decline your offer, I have plenty of money from scouring the ruins in Skyrim, slaying the dangerous beasts that terriorize the roads, and put an end to brigands attacking travelers on the roads. Skyrim these days needs heroes, while I'm not one to toot my own horn. I am proud to call myself one, still... I have much to prove before the people of Skyrim will know of my name. But I will buy some of your trinkets, what do you have here... Hmmm." He explained before crossing his arms and looking around at her wares. 

"Hmmm... Hmmm..." He thought out loud, beginning to ponder.
Ralph
Fitting that the noble would be too proud to take freely. Hjera's lip quirked slightly upwards, almost a smile of her own. "Then it's hers, I suppose." 

Listening to Siegwind's tale and ruminating on it, she figured that it made sense that the man would proclaim itself a hero. She, personally, didn't see much need for the term. Heroes were for the skalds, for songs and stories around the campfire, for a world of gods and old magicks and things that, unfortunately, had been somewhat lost to time. Even with her own experiences, she had come to question if it was less the intervention of the Old Hunter, wicked as he might be, or if it were simple, honest bad luck. That said, if the man claimed to be a hero and did good deeds for others, it was not her place to tell him he wasn't. Any good put into the world was worth praising, even if a bit vainglorious.

"Mostly meats and pelts," She replied, noticing his visored eyes wandering across her admittedly modest cart. "I live off the opposite coast of Lake Honrich. Set my tent there, come into the city to sell to the inns and a few of the locals. I don't charge as much as the Empire's traders nor the other seller in this market, so I make good money with the poorer folk in town. Enough to get by, anyway."

She'd seen the other meat-merchant give her a few ugly looks, though she wasn't particularly worried about it. The fishmonger, as it turns out, was the man who had brought her to the temple of Mara and bought her new clothes when she first arrived in this place, and she had his explicit permission to hawk her wares in his town, so long as any fish she caught were sold to him. It was a fair arrangement.
James
"Ah, that is good for you. My family wanted me to run my own business but it was never my destiny to sit at a desk and write with ink. I might open up a inn if I ever retire... Be a good place to reflect and drink with other fine warriors to talk and cheer about their many tales." He nodded.

He then looked at her various meats she had on display, he had no interest in pelts.
"It's good that you have your prices for the poor to purchase, nobody deserves to go to bed on a empty stomach. Sleep should not be dinner!" He chuckled.

"I'll take a few pounds of the venison, some of that dried beef will do as well. I could make a pretty could soup with some onion and some spices... Maybe some ale... Hmmm." He told her what he wanted.