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.
"There was an incident last week - she noticed a woman beating her daughter for falling in a puddle, and she - took care of it - and one of your goldmages noticed what was happening and threatened her about it. She's not going to challenge you over how you choose to administrate the city but she's not going to stay if she's expected to tolerate that sort of thing, either."
DZ asks Deskyl for clarification. "She punched her. She says she didn't do any permanent damage."
"She's not harassing people because she enjoys it; if she needs to live away from people to avoid their misbehavior then that's what she'll do."
"Yes sir. We'll be here for another week or two, if they have any other questions."
She's just picking up a passenger, but DZ tells the woman to wait, and they're back in a few minutes.
"Yes, ma'am?"
DZ nods. "Most Sith do have difficulty with impulse control, but Deskyl doesn't particularly, ma'am; she can tolerate being around people who are suffering if she needs to. But she prefers not to, and she's not accustomed to having laws apply to her."