[Gideon shakes her head as though to clear it when Geralt's demand cuts through. He sounds kinda pissed, and perhaps she ought to feel guilty - or indignant? - but her focus is skewed and fuck knows if he's angry with her right now or just rightfully fucking angry. So she takes a breath, and tries to relay what had happened without letting the full horror of it crash down on her all over again.]

Yes. Yeah, I was with her. The acolytes. It was me and Ciri and some native guy I think, and he's fucking dead now. There was this stuff and it was...I dunno, hallucinations? Real? I don't fucking know--

[Her words threaten to mash together, voice hitting a pitch that makes it sound like it belongs to someone else. She takes another breath, tries to get a handle on herself.]

--Ciri like, screamed and the acolytes sewed her fucking mouth shut and I couldn't do anything. And when we woke up they were just..gone...it was just us and the dead guy and the alter and a bunch of shitty vines, so I got us the fuck out of there.

[It's kind of a jumbled rush, but right now it's the best she can do.]

She’s okay, right? She is okay…right?