He did not much care for spring, but again, there was so little that he cared for. The blooming of the flowers made the air smell excessively sweet, a cloying scent that reached even the shadowed wetlands that he often kept to. He had taken up residence near a small pool of water in the darkest parts of the forest, where so few dared to venture, and so you can imagine his surprise when a flurry of light went fluttering between the trunks of the trees.

Painfully bored, he forces himself from where he had been standing — guarding this place as if anyone would actually want it to begin with — and trails after the glittering gold and green little creatures. He is pretty sure he can hear them laughing, and as he gets closer he can see that everywhere that they fly over patches of clover and a rainbow of wildflowers erupt from the ground. He pauses to stare at, before carelessly stepping directly onto the newly formed shamrock.

They lead him to the edge of the forest, but he stops at the treeline. Before he can disappear back into the darkness one of the fairies flutters her way back to him, and before he can react she sends a shower of shimmering gold dust over top of him, and between her high-pitched giggles he hears her say something that sounded like “For luck,” before zipping off to join her companions.

Though there was a disgusted scowl on his face, he noticed soon that a heavy fog was snaking its way through the trees, before cloaking itself around him. As he turned to melt back into the shadows, the fog followed him, and for the first time he gives a small but cold smile. 
For luck, indeed. 

-- infernal.