The more time passes between her incarceration and catching sight of Lenore again, the more Gideon's insides clench tight around themselves, stomach tied up in knots. The possibility of betrayal almost doesn't matter anymore; she's well equipped to get herself the hell out of here if she needs to, and to take the other prisoners with her. But it's hard not to think of all the things that might be happening whilst she's locked up down here; deadly traps laid, a hoard of armed soldiers waiting to get the vampires closed in and contained. The night seems still and silent to her but for the quiet words she shares with the wise woman; if there's a commotion above (or a fucking bloodbath), it doesn't reach her all-too human ears.

This mounting tension gives way to a relief so bright that she’s positively incandescent with it when Lenore and her small entourage spill into the jail. Gideon is on her feet in moments, sword caught smooth as dreaming, and whilst the other prisoners blink in blind confusion or push themselves to the furthest corners of the cell, Gideon's hand moves to the wise woman's shoulder.

"This is Bronwyn, she said she's a healer and like, a pillar of the community. She got thrown in here for trying to get people together to stand against the mayor," she says it in one long rush as Bronwyn steps resolutely forward. She meets Lenore's gaze unflinchingly, with a calm authority despite that she's currently looking a two-hundred-year-old vampire in the face. Meanwhile Gideon's eyes spark from Lenore's to Zohreh's and over the small cluster of vampire soldiers that flank them.

"What's happening, where do you need me? This isn't everyone, is it?" with a liquid whisper, she's already unsheathing her sword.