(no subject)
Puck has now decided that, amnesia or not, he is never talking to strangers again. The burns on his hands are quite enough to ensure that.
He never did go inside again since that night, and though by now he is quite hungry for something that is not some variety of flora, it's not as if he can actually hold onto anything long enough to eat it. (The burning sensations have by now faded to occasional stings, but touching anything still makes it worse.) He's sitting by the lake now, one eye to the bar, and sinking his fingers into the cool mud by the shore in the hopes of soothing them.
He is not, perhaps, much in the mood for company.
He never did go inside again since that night, and though by now he is quite hungry for something that is not some variety of flora, it's not as if he can actually hold onto anything long enough to eat it. (The burning sensations have by now faded to occasional stings, but touching anything still makes it worse.) He's sitting by the lake now, one eye to the bar, and sinking his fingers into the cool mud by the shore in the hopes of soothing them.
He is not, perhaps, much in the mood for company.