Puck stood in a fancy house, feeling terribly out of place. The fight had been too much, he needed to get away… but why here?
The kitchen was big and modern. Sleek. Expensive-looking. The family had be to pretty well off. God, why was he here?
He wasn’t hurt, not really. Whatever he’d stolen from the Trickster had made Puck tough, and that meant it was hard to hurt him. But sometimes the stress of it all just got to him, overwhelmed him. He didn’t want his friends to see him panicking… or worse, not even notice. It was better to be away entirely, to not have to face that, so he ran. He slipped his mask off so he could breathe. Why did he come here?
The fridge didn’t have much on it, but it had some pictures of a kid on them, and some drawings. One was a crappy but charming crayon drawing with three people, the sort of thing a kid draws in preschool. Puck pulled it off the fridge and looked at it. The figures labeled “Mom” and “Dad” (in a teacher’s handwriting) felt nostalgic. The edge of the paper with the kid was smudged and nearly illegible, but after a few seconds staring at it he thought the name said “John”. A black fog started to seep from his fingers into the paper, and he dropped it suddenly. No need to catch anybody else in the crossfire.
He took a breather and pulled the mask back on. It was so stuffy sometimes, but he wasn’t Puck without it, really. The antlers popped back out through his hood, completing the look. He needed to get back to the others, they needed him. Sage was strong, but not in the same way he was, and that was pretty much it for the group’s heavy muscle. He gave the room one last look, trying to place why he’d come here of all places.
Finding no answers, Puck simply hopped down off of the countertop, and stepped through a dark portal in spacetime. He needed to get back quick.
The portal closed behind him. Only shadows remained. Puck was gone, and the Hobb house was empty once more.