Margot is not often keen to prove true the words that leave her tongue—seldom does she mean what she says. There is no truth in spoken word, she has found herself believing over the years. There is only truth in action, observation, and nature.
Lies are so easily spoken, fragile as they may be. Margot has never minded when they shatter, never bothered to inspect all the little pieces in an attempt to stabilize her words.
When so little is of worth to her, she has so little to lose.
Margot huffs out a performative, self-deprecating laugh. She bats her pale lashes at the demon and dares a smile that bares just a bit of her true nature. Somewhere between deranged and brutal, the look passes quickly save for a lingering madness in her eyes. She lazily turns her head to watch a faint breeze send dust and burnt weeds across the clay earth. There is perhaps an awkward pause between Severe's last word and Margot's response. She is lost somewhere, so clearly gone she might simply vanish from existence.
But eventually she turns, she smiles, she recalls where her trailing thoughts started.
"I will double down on being a terrible leader. You are not so fortuitous as to meet me. I am merely a guardian."
Margot is dazed, still weaving through the fog of all the other's emotions she must remember. Her control of her magic slips, allowing knife-like tendrils of pink to grasp desperately at Severe. Unaware, she doesn't pull the clawing magic away, despite its persistence potentially leading to discovery.
