Blackfeather Woods and she was a war zone of a woman

something would kill you. words spoken so casually, that tzar is a bit blindsided. he hadn't really worried about anything killing him since he was a wee lad — but with youth brought blind arrogance and a false rooted belief of immortality, as if his young age alone would spare him a cruel, untimely death.

hadn't his siblings been proof enough of that ... if his mother was correct and they had, in fact, been killed?

also sounds like something a witch of the woods might say. he replies with a small twitch of his lips, amused snort leaving him. at least he found himself funny, if nothing else.

fortunate, that. for me, i mean. tzar offers, prattling on now. you got a name? he asks, having spent too long in his own silence broken only occasionally by the noises made by ghost who remains ever the content sentry upon his shoulders.