'Wisteria,' the mare offers, and Marceline's lips curl skyward again into a bright, pleased smile. "Nice to meet you, Wisteria." She doesn't go beyond that for niceties, eager to get the whole thing over with. Claiming has never been her favorite part of being queen. It reminds her too much of a time when she had been forced to do things she didn't want to, be places she didn't want to be. The less she thinks about it, the easier it is to distance herself from memories like that. To convince herself that it isn't the same.
But when the red queen asks about keeping her company, fully intending to bluff her way through the interaction, Wisteria's reaction makes her think twice. She seems taken off-guard, perhaps surprised that another would want to be around her. The white-haired mare looks at Marceline and she can't help but think of how a child might look to a parent or older sibling seeking answers in a world still unknown. She's no child, that's for sure, but Marceline still finds herself suddenly shying away from the thought of being so blatantly dishonest. She isn't sure what stays the lie on her lips, the one she had so artfully prepared to present to whichever stranger caught her interest, but rather than a playful quip, she answers with: "Because I just do." It isn't what she'd intended. She still intends to get Wisteria home, no doubt, but perhaps the subterfuge can be left for another day.
"The Crossing can be dangerous, even for seasoned Island residents. I saw you all alone and thought I might offer you safe haven in my herd." She pauses, allowing time for Wisteria to absorb what she's hearing. "It's to the south of here, on a smaller island called Salem. You'll like it." Marceline barely gives the blanketed mare a chance to get a say in the matter before she gestures with her head towards the Crossing's southern shore and steps away, expecting Wisteria to follow.
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