(Untitled)

[puckishly]

You know, what's the good of having preternaturally fabulous weather if you aren't going to take advantage of it?

And furthermore, what's the good of having a sharkless lake if you're not going to take advantage of that?

And what's the good of giant squid in that sharkless lake if you don't occasionally descend to the depths to taunt them

Comments

[call_me_kick]

And then a child appears near the shore, almost fairylike in her gracefulness as she picks some stray flowers, admiring their colors as well as the vibrant colors of the summer around her.

Puck has never seen her before, nor has she seen him, but she has been warned by her uncle, that we can be certain of.

Oblivious, she settles down in a patch of grass nearby and begins attempting to trace figures in the clouds with her finger.

[call_me_kick]

Kick's fear fades quickly and is replaced by slight anger as she thinks of what Nick told her, about how he turned him into a donkey.

"You turned my uncle into a donkey," she scowls, pointing an accusing finger at him.

[puckishly]

Puck blinks.

"... Nick, you mean?"

(Nick Bottom or Nick Carraway, he's still right. This pleases him.)

[call_me_kick]

"Yes."

She folds her arms, scowling in a way that only a young child can.

[puckishly]

"Ah!"

Puck nods cheerfully.

"In which case, yes I did."

A beat.

"... He got better."

[call_me_kick]

"I know."

Glare.

"So why'd you do it?"

[puckishly]

Puck shrugs.

"I sought to illustrate to him that certain of his behaviors were slightly ... asinine, shall we say. Unfortunately, the lesson seems to have been missed."

[call_me_kick]

Kick blinks and tilts her head, curious.

"Oh?"

[puckishly]

"Have you heard aught of his lady love?"

[call_me_kick]

"Yes!" There is grinning. "Blodwen."

As said not too long ago, Kick and her uncle are very much alike.

[puckishly]

Puck resists the urge to headdesk.

"Yes, well."

What is it with Blodwen and little blonde girls?

[call_me_kick]

"Well?"

Blink, blink.

"Uncle Nick likes her very very much."

[puckishly]

"Uncle Nick," Puck says with great patience, "is a ffwl of the very, very highest degree."

[call_me_kick]

...

Kick does not like the sound of that word, and it is very, very obvious.

"And what's a ffwl?"

[puckishly]

"Ask Mistress Rowlands," Puck returns cheerily. "I expect she shall be glad to explain it to you."

[call_me_kick]

Kick sighs.

"Why can't you tell me?"