Freya was watching you from across the street from the Abattoir. She was silent, curious. She could tell right off the bat that you were a witch but something about you intrigued her. You were timid. Jumpy. Always looking over your shoulder. The eldest of the Mikaelsons walked over to you, holding out a bag of some food.

"Take this. You look like you need it."

Her tone was warm, soothing even. It made it hard not to feel at ease a bit.