It had been a very long day and Puck's sandy-gold hair had grown to shoulder length, just with the stress of it all. From sun up to sun down his hair could grow anywhere from six to twelve inches - his daily routine took a lot of grooming.
Although his fatigue could never be physical, it was real nonetheless - and more of an ague of the thought processes; a stream of energetic and pressing thoughts that were frustrated by unforgiving problems, when in a tangle.
Phillip Marsden was one such problem that kept flashing before him, as if to alert Puck of some impending danger he needed to attend to. Puck acutely felt the persuasion of his intuition, and so late though it was, he decided to go out yet again and check up on what Marsden was doing right at that moment.
When Puck arrived at the convention centre he found that the main doors were wide open and people were coming and going, packing up after the three-day extravaganza.
It was a comical sight, as more than a few were still in costume - there were super-heroes struggling with packed cartons and Goddesses, messy haired and smudged with bilious makeup, looking adorably human and very tired.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
No comments:
Post a Comment