Daffodils would spring up wherever his feet touched the ground. It was just one of his many tricks in the common world for the fay - for when developed, they can inspire life wherever they go.
Depending on which season, the bulbs might sleep and wait until Spring, to push their way up through the dirt, to answer their calling sun - but nonetheless these floral tracks and trails would begin at the footfall of this ageing elf.
Words, like flowers, would spill out from the mouths of mortals around him involuntarily - their trails wound pathways back to their heart-forged thoughts - fast flying and skimming the ethers - like fireflies in winding lines, illuminated by their passions of any given moment.
Puck always knew their thoughts, and their intentions, before they were forged into words. He knew it all, for you see human beings really aren’t all that complicated or profound … they can be confusingly random, but were never really a match for his own wit and knowledge.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances
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