and straight on ‘til morning
☽-★-☆-★-☾
He could not believe his luck. A moment ago, he had been shrouded in darkness, anonymous and alone, and now the sun had come down to speak with him.
Temper like midsummer's most punishing rays, the blonde mare snakes towards him, and like a goat he leaps quickly out of harm's way, heart fluttering in his chest. His blue eyes settle upon her, a wicked grin tugging up the corners of his lips. He watches as she strikes the dry earth before them, gaze flicking briefly to the stamp left by her hoof, and his smile grows wider. Puck does not know this mare, and when he flares his nostrils to take in her scent, there are notes of places he has not been, but he almost feels as if he does. She is brisk and feisty as the girls he knew back home: quick to anger, emotions barely ever falling below high tide, and he is a man who loves to run towards the rising water until it laps threateningly at his hooves, ready and willing to sweep him out to oblivion.
Puck has never been one for self-preservation. She is everything he was never allowed to have in Oberyn's fairy glade, with none of the barriers imposed by his unwillingly-inherited rank and reputation, and he would gorge himself on her until he was sick, if only she would let him.
She stomps the ground again, and the speckled fae angles his head so that he might look down at her from under long, multicolored lashes. "I am, little firefly," he answers, his smooth voice carrying all the undeserved swaggering arrogance of a spoiled brat-Prince. He bends his neck, lowering himself so that his chin is near his knees, and when he peers submissively up at her, still smirking like a Cheshire cat, he is coltish once again, playful and brimming with youth.
"Are you?"
☽-★-☆-★-☾
puck - stallion - black tovero blanket - 15.2hh
lost boy of titania and rehoboam