[She's travelled. Ciri says it so nice and easy, and Gideon feels a hot spark of comingled jealousy and fascination. She'd always dreamed of tasting that for herself, being sent out to far-flung fronts with the Cohort, seeing the kinds of things she could only distantly dream of whilst mouldering away in Drearburh's dank depths. And okay, so in most of these dreams the sights she beheld consisted of bloody battles and un-necromantically curvaceous babes, but somewhere in amongst all that there'd been the genuine desire for something bigger, something more than the slow march toward death followed by the enslavement of her bones that the Ninth House promised. She barely notices when the serving boy comes back with their ale, gives him only a distracted word of thanks as she takes her drink in hand.

She'd rather be asking Ciri questions, like what kind of things, and were any of the things awesome swordfights, by any chance?, and is that how you got that scar? But the other woman is quicker on the draw, and Gideon lets out a low breath that indicates nothing in the Ninth was ever worth seeing.]

Well, let me see. We had bones. Annnnd, also bones. As well as bones we had....yep. More bones. There were also a bunch of decaying old nuns who were so close to being bones themselves that sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. And not much else, honestly. Imagine just about the worst, most dreary, awful place you can possibly think of, but also kinda horrifying at the same time, and you get the Ninth House. Which is basically just one big tomb cracked vertically into the planet's core, I don't think it was ever really meant to sustain life. And it only just about manages it, honestly.

[She leans back in her chair then, and takes a deep swig of her drink. Lifts a hand to swipe away the foam that smears her top lip.]

I'm sure the things and places you've seen are much more interesting. Less...boney.