"There is nothing to be afraid of beneath the waves."
She wasn't a monster - she wasn't the monster everyone made her out to be. The real monsters were the Olympians and the hungry wolves in human clothing, pretending to be people they were not.
He studied the seahorse in his hand, a small smile on his face. She could have found it washed up on the shore or she could have very well turned one to stone, but he didn't feel sorry for it. He thought it was pretty.
"Thank you," he said, looking up at her. He'd always forgotten how hard everyone else tried not to look into her eyes. If he had a sense of humanity, of mortality within him, he would admit that she had been one of his greatest pleasures, and she had been one of his greatest pains.
"I didn't think you'd come, let alone bring me something."