[She pushes after him through the press of the crowd, and somewhere on the edge of her senses there's that feeling again-- not quite panic, but a constriction in her chest, a wave of piercing discomfort at the utter difference of this place. All the sights, the sounds, the smells, the sheer number of people-- it's so much bigger and more all-encompassing than she ever could have imagined. She'll get used to it. One day. somehow. And for now she narrows down her awareness onto the sound of his voice, and that pushes back the encroaching otherness for a moment, allows the thrum of human noise to bleed off into the background.]

Oh, she has abilities. She's the best god-damned necromancer the Ninth House has ever produced, you should see what she can do with even the smallest bone fragments. Like, full-on constructs just from little splinters. Regenerating ash, all sorts. and she's good with like, science and shit. All those necromantic theorems, you have to be. She's also been running the Ninth House pretty much singlehanded since she was just a kid... but none of that really translates all that well here, you know? And on top of that she's still...adjusting, shall we say. This place is kinda overwhelming for me, and I hated Drearburh. Harrow loves all that dark, silent, creepy shit.

[Quite the opposite of the bright, noisy, bustle of Cadens. Gideon skirts around a rickety cart selling some kind of spherical fruit, narrowly avoids thwacking a man with her sheathed sword as she does so. Mutters a quick apology as she stalks after Jaskier.]

So for now, I'm doing odd jobs, yeah. It's not what I wanna be doing in the long run, but until Harrow and I have a game plan figured out, I'm just taking work where I can. Which...yeah. Has mostly been carrying heavy shit, or glaring at people and flexing in tavern doorways. I kinda feel like I’m getting type-cast here.

[Boring drudge work...even if the latter has at least a few perks.]