the Puck (infortyminutes) wrote in displacedmyths,
the Puck
infortyminutes
displacedmyths

[There's a shiver in the air, as if it was trying to form a shape. After a few more moments of the unnerving sight of nothingness trying to become somethingness it produces a figure that is more or less human. Two arms and two legs, anyway, and the appropriate number of digits, and head and feet on the proper ends.

But still. There is something implacably... off. Its spidery fingers are a bit too long and thin, and even though its face is covered, the expression it bears is still somehow hungry. A mask covers where, approximately, its face should be, but there's only emptiness behind the eye-holes
. Despite its movement, it still only feels almost alive.

It pauses, twisting its head this way and that; an animal gesture. Tasting the air.]

Riddle, riddle: not quite Faerie, and not quite Terra. Where, then, is here? A wound between worlds. I sit me on a scab, perhaps, 'twixt the two.

Come thee hither than, thou wandering souls that haunt this place, and greet a poor lost fairy. What fun we'll have.
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