This is a city, if your standards for "city" don't require skyscrapers, electricity, or plumbing. She's landed on a side street; to her left, the crosswise thoroughfare has people hollering about their things for sale, people hurrying on foot and poking along on horseback to get here and there, storefronts and apartments in two and three story structures. The street she's standing on is quieter, houses and less customer-facing businesses, though it has its share of spillover traffic; she has not yet been noticed, by that fellow leading a goat or that woman with a basket of laundry or that family all holding hands so as not to lose each other. It's a cool day, a little misty.
She stumbles when she appears, and opens her senses even as she's recovering her balance: it's already obvious that she's somewhere crowded, and overwhelmingly if not exclusively human, and that she's the only Force-sensitive in the area; is there anything else to be noticed?
She'll keep an eye on that. For now the first order of business is figuring out how to communicate. Or a nap; that took a lot out of her - but, no, communication first. She gestures for DZ to follow, and heads around the corner, looking for a bench to sit on.
She claims a patch of retaining wall by a merchant whose customers are talking a bit rather than just selecting their merchandise and paying, and settles in to translate for DZ.
He gets a glare from Deskyl in return, and DZ says something incomprehensible but conciliatory.
It doesn't seem like that's going to happen. Deskyl continues signing to DZ, relaying what he's saying to them; DZ apologizes again.
They stay put.
Deskyl considers this.
She signs to DZ.
This gets the merchant another look, but they head over that way anyway.
They stop by another stall, same as before.
The prospective elbow-poker gets a sharp look well before they get close.
Deskyl steps between them before that can happen.
She nods. "I talk a little."