Seaside Moors Maybe I should get to church on Sunday...

This place - Rusalka - was so far removed from what Stryx knew as civilization that she was, for a moment anyway, surprised by Erzulie's comment. There was no sense of camaraderie bestowed upon her upon hearing that term, domestication, nor any semblance of kinship for having shared a similar lifestyle. If anything, it bolstered Stryx against the siren woman. Being reminded of those days only soured her further.

She was silent for a moment or two too long because of this... resistance, for lack of a better term. A flash of doubt swam in her eyes before she walled herself off completely and emotionally withdrew from the conversation, becoming clinical and cold, as if a switch had been flipped. No more talk of that life.

You found something better here. Stryx murmured as a hasty, clipped reply. There were obvious signs of recent pregnancy still clinging to the woman's body; for the physician it did not seem out of place, not until she mentally included the dispatched Raleska to the equation. Stryx had not wondered why the new mother had been so far from her supposed home until that moment - but did not let that little nagging voice inside herself grow in to anything greater than a pale skepticism.