She’s still screaming when he approaches, and she blames that for not hearing him - and subsequently jumping almost a foot when his voice startles her to attention. ”Jesus,” she snaps, shooting a glare his way, her chocolate eyes blazing with annoyance - though truthfully, it’s more about her situation than his having startled her. His question still lingers unanswered between them and she heaves a heavy sigh, annoyed at having been found amidst a breakdown - and maybe a bit thankful for his interruption, though she isn’t about to tell him that.

”You could say that,” she barks, her expression troubled as she glances at him again, unprepared to answer the second part of his question. What could he possibly do to fix this mess, short of magically restoring her memory? Well…

Not much.

”No one can help me,” she says, the words tumbling out on the back of a maniacal laugh. ”Not unless you know how to reverse time, and to my knowledge that ability has yet to be discovered.” And how unfortunate it is. She sighs heavily, finally taking a moment to more thoroughly appraise the guy nice enough to check on her - he’s a handsome fellow, and closer to her size than most of the strangers she’s met in her lifetime, which is oddly comforting. Clearly, he’s kind - kind enough to check on a distressed stranger, and she finds herself feeling bad for her rudeness.

It’s unsettling - she’s not usually the type to feel bad about that sort of thing, though perhaps it is warranted in this case.

”I’m Glamora. I was born here...Somewhere,” she finishes lamely, obviously disturbed. Her lack of memory is a constant point of discontent, a thorn in her side that never subsides. ”Now I suppose I’m a stranger to this place as much as it is to me.”

She refuses to feel sadness about this fact, however much the sadness tries to creep into her heart and devour her. Instead, she smothers it with anger, and her rage-filled eyes sweep across the island before settling on the stallion. It’s not him that she’s angry with, but anger doesn’t discriminate - it radiates outward, like a fire burning everything in its path.

Kind strangers are rarely an exception.