That Gideon doesn't seem to register anything she'd just said about the sword is a disturbing surprise, but one that's passed over quickly enough by the thing that follows. Her steps falter, the world reeling for a moment. "Do not ask me that," she says, jaw tight. "Ever."

She can feel the start of another bleed, directing energy at her capillaries to shut it off before it's obvious. It's fast, but not fast enough; Harrow ticks her head to the side, reflexively, at the sensation of blood pooling in her ear canal. "And the stab wound...healed itself. I expended no energy in doing it." Her tone is unguarded, naked enough to reveal her own confusion at that fact. Gathering the begrimed skirt of her robe in one hand, she keeps walking.