These wolves mocked him, and laughed, and Theseus felt some strange mix of indignation and fear well up inside him. Indignation, that they would make a jest of him, of this. Fear, for that singular moment where Erzulie had spoken his name -- and he felt as though she had shredded right through his facade, and he felt the waters surround him again, that dark ocean he'd been treading since before he'd fled Easthollow, before Caiaphas had even attacked. Back, to when father had left them -- when Keen had wandered off -- when mother moved on -- and he had lost himself. Merrit, he wanted to scream, he was Merrit -- but where had he gone?

He knew where Merrit had gone - he was still with him, somewhere there, and as Merrit, he faltered, and drew a step back. As Theseus, he stopped himself, and rallied every nerve to recompose himself before Rusalka. "Aye," he offered, in response to both Rosalyn and Erzulie's concluding remarks. They did much too little to help him -- but Caiaphas had clearly wronged this pack. He would not count Rusalka as allies, yet he would not count them an enemy, either. They seemed a family caught in the crossfire, and he realized he did not wish to know what the witch had done to them. He did not need to know. As Erzulie had said, he knew why they called her witch, and that was enough.

Theseus took another step away, "it would seem so," he breathed out, and then louder, "I will plague you no longer. May these days be fairer than the ones you've left behind," with that he bowed his head and backed away, and would turn to take his leave at a full sprint, once he had put enough distance between them.