Caesa's smile returns at Benvolio's rebuttal. She had never seen hell, and did not intend to, but she does not doubt his claim. Perhaps she was just fooling herself.
In any case, his question demands more attention. It's even taken her by surprise, this rampant curiosity about her wanderings. Perhaps this devil's looking for a deal.
Caesa keeps her fist closed, crushing the ash and snow between her fingers. The witch's eyes dance in the fire hypnotically as she meets his gaze. She'll hold it as long as Mercutio dares to look upon her.
"Old places. Mass graves and blood-soaked mead halls. Forests where an axe has never been swung." The witch sighs. "I cannot leave for long. These places, and the things that live there, they sustain me."