(Untitled)

[puckishly]

Puck has a scarf! A warm, fluffy scarf, made with love.

(Or so he assumes. You never can tell, with Havelock.)

Contrary to the impression that may be given by the icon, the scarf is varying shades of green, not varying shades of gray, and when Puck wears it he really does not look any more manic than usual.

In fact, right now he looks downright

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[winterladym]

Another fae has made the bar her residence. She had felt she was the only one, with how naive all these humans are.

And then she finds her gaze falling on Puck, and a smile crosses her already gay features. Another fae. Simply mahr-val-ous.

"Good evening."

[puckishly]

Oh, well well well. Who could this be?

There's familiarity here, but not, precisely, recognition. Puck's eyes narrow as he looks at her.

In a perfectly pleasant tone of voice, "And to you, lady."

[winterladym]

He reminds her of....

It doesn't matter who, not really. He's just another of the court. But which side? Winter or summer, it matters.

"A brilliant day."

[puckishly]

"Was it?"

A tilt of his head.

He'd say that he was both, and more besides: autumn and springtime and the changing of the stars, so long as the side was the King's ...

But that story's old by now.

"I'm afraid I hadn't thought to take notice."

[winterladym]

"Sometimes it pays to notice."

She tilts her head the other way, cat like eyes studying him.

"I had not thought there were others here."

[puckishly]

Puck smiles.

"Sometimes it pays to notice."

[winterladym]

And she laughs, here. Cute. Really. The light sparkles off white teeth.

"And what might you be called then?"

[puckishly]

This time, Puck's smile is nothing short of angelic.

"Oh, I might be called all manner of thing," he says reasonably. "Would it please you to guess?"

[winterladym]

Oh that smile...could it really be? It could.

"Hop o my thumb. Hobgoblin. That spritely villain. Beguiler of horses."

[puckishly]

"Beguiler of horses."

He snorts.

"Oh, you're well-versed, lady. But 'tis hardly what they call me by."

[winterladym]

"Robin Goodfellow. That dastardly, Puck."

So good to be right. She's never actually met the one from her 'verse, but he has something of a cult status, due to pranks played.

[puckishly]

:O! No fair!

Puck wants a cult.

"And by what name, mistress," he says, looking her over, "ought I to know you?"

[winterladym]

"I am known by many names."

Aren't they all?

"But the one I give out freely is Maeve, Lady of the Winter Court, the Queen who is to be."

[puckishly]

"Lady of the Winter Court," he repeats softly, amused.

(then I see Queen Mab hath been with you)

"And do they cast you out of it when the frost melts?"

[winterladym]

Her head tilts to one side, thinking that over.

"Why should they? Strong or weak, the winter court is there year round."

[puckishly]

Puck blinks.

"My error. It simply has rather a seasonal sound to it, you see.