[ Ciri has been partaking of the drink more than the dance (though as the night wears on, one definitely leads to the other). For now, she's just walking around, a glass of blackberry mead in hand, enjoying the lanterns and the atmosphere. After being stuck out in the unforgiving temperatures on that mountain, she finds herself more keen on the Free Cities' warmer weather than she might've otherwise been; in spring, it's not hot yet, but the breeze doesn't cut through one's clothes like it would in winter. Her outfit comprises soft, draping cloth and loose pants, a thin cloak for comfort as the sun goes down and the desert air cools. It isn't nearly as lavish as what some of the other Summoned have chosen to wear, but she did let Julie help her decorate her hair, brass flowers with inlaid crystals matching the decorative piece pinning her cloak to her shoulders, and the wide belt with similar leaf and floral motifs. Her shoes, a new purchase she's quite happy with, tie in nicely as well, peeking beneath the flared hem of her trousers when she walks. The lantern earrings Julie gifted her for Yule flicker with tiny enchanted flames.

She's just stepped down from one of the decorative bridges when a thoroughly pink blur darts behind her, peeking around one of Ciri's shoulders at someone up ahead. This time, she's not tricked by the pink hair. And she hasn't had quite enough booze (yet) for mistaken identities. Still, even if she doesn't know Hilda very well, Ciri already has a distinct impression of her as a woman who can take care of herself. ]

You may if you wish, but I have a hard time believing you aren't well equipped to say no all on your own.

[ She keeps walking. Not away-- just in the same direction she'd already been headed, right toward the people Hilda was trying to avoid. There is only the briefest pause when she looks down, arching a brow, to ask: ]

Unless you want me to tell them for you?