There was once a time when Margot was as fatalistic as they come. She did not yet understand her own power, the simple strength behind one’s own force of will, nor the ebbs and flows that come with each generation. With the tide, she was swept away. Negative but not quite bitter yet—luckily for her, she caught that negativity before the permanence of bitterness could settle in. That catch allows for the dark whimsy and strange honesty that colors Margot's interactions.
She may no longer be fatalistic; but she certainly is not a positive creature. As the day draws on, it is becoming increasingly clear that the Pangean queen's propensity for negativity far outweighs the positivity.
To put it simply, Margot is bored. Such boredom has lead the porcelain mare to trouble more times than she can count, but such an insufferable itch is not something she can abide by. She is delighted - and surprised, for the mare is nearly imperceptible against the clay - to discover a stranger. Margot draws toward Kreed, not quite eager.
"Hello!" the little mare calls once within earshot. A wide, almost unsettling smile turns her face into a doll's. "Thank gods! A stranger. My, it had gotten quite quiet around here, save for the scuffling of a few . . . mischievous ones," she adds, a secretive look passing over her face. There were whisperings of the zombie's actions - ones she only hears because she spends so much time in her kingdom - but alas:
"I'm rambling," Margot finishes with a laugh.
"My name is Margot, guardian of Pangea. Who are you?"
