"I am glad I can offer you comfort, Ivar. As for my wisdom? It's from eating my vegetables." There's a tease to her tone and she smiles around the rim of her glass, sipping her drink slowly.

While the words themselves aren't surprising -she's heard the accusation before, usually with a hint of venom in the tone- they catch her off guard for a brief second. Ivar had never broached the subject before -a curious thing- and she hadn't even seen it coming now. Still, the same soft smile.

"And what do you think? Do you believe I am a witch?"