77th_emo_earl | [Open Post] When the Wolves Come Out of the Walls...

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[Open Post] When the Wolves Come Out of the Walls...

For the first time since his abortive attempt at escaping back in November, Titus no longer feels so much at home in this place. Something nasty has come out of the woodwork, and he's wondering now if trying to escape was the better course of action. He cannot be alone, not after nearly harming himself, and so he's headed for the kitchen, hoping to find *someone* who hasn't been affected by this madness...

Backdated to the night Morgoth tried to break his mind

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Hard to tell whether Steerpike's been affected - he likely had an ordeal of his own, but that's one thing he's unlikely to discuss with anyone, let alone Titus.

And that's why he wanders down to the kitchen for some food to steal from the fridge, probably at a time where Titus is conveniently alone.

He's grumpy, and will blatantly ignore the annoying earl, for now.

See where it goes, for now I'm settling for passive-aggressive behavior rather than full out animosity. >.>

For the moment, Titus is wrapped up in his thoughts, trying to come up with a means of escape, something that isn't riding away. He might try paddling back up the small river that his boat floated down, into the lake. Perhaps Iggy could carry him into the sky. Or perhaps someone who knows magic could send him back to Gormenghast.

He's likely too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice a not!brother, but he's aware that someone is poking around in the fridge.

There's a couple of mangoes on a shelf, with a note under them, written in a scrawly hand: "I have plans for these."

Mangoes sounds just perfect, and Steerpike caring little for such things as claiming notes, he just sets it aside and takes the two fruits.

He slips one in the pocket of his gabardine, then the other, and will try to make an exit unnoticed, then.

Ha.

Congratz, Steerpike, you just nicked your master's breakfast, though when-if he gets up tomorrow, it's likely to be the least of his annoyances.

The movement catches his attention and he looks up, curious at first, then almost annoyed, though he stops himself. Not before he lets out a slightly surprised "Oh?"

Steerpike looks over his shoulder smugly. "Hmmm?"

"I'm sorry, I thought that I was alone: your presence startled me," Titus replies, keeping his tone neutral, though he might shift a bit in his seat. He's not quite sure he's seeing his not!brother, or if this is some trick of the demon that messed with his head...

"When doesn't it?" Steerpike asks wryly in response, almost amused.

"You do seem to affect me that way, or perhaps you merely find me when I am easily startled," he says. Like when he's studying a list of classes, or when he's reading Victorian pr0n...

"Must be the latter," Steerpike drawls. "Is that a permanent condition?"

"Perhaps: some folk are high-strung and it would seem that I am of their number," he says, trying to keep this casual. "What brings you here at this hour?"

"Hunger," Steerpike replies. "Don't worry, I don't eat children, regardless of what you may think of it."

He snerks a bit, dryly. "I might not be fond of you and there might be a part of my mind which wants to suspect you of being capable of dire things, but I would not suspect you of that.

"Besides that, I am hardly a child: I am close to manhood if I am not already there."

Yeah right, mister emo Earl...

"Of course you are," Steerpike replies lightly. "Have you started shaving yet?"

"I do every few days," Titus replies, wincing at the impertinence of this question and at falling into answering it. "But is that of any importance?"

At least it's getting his mind off his bout of terror and wibbling...

"I hope your scissors are very small, if you're cutting a few hairs off every few days," Steerpike replies, teasing.

But look, look, they're not at each other's throats!

He starts to open his mouth to voice a retort, then stops himself. That's what got them at each other's throats the last time, and if anything, it's what he wants to avoid.

"At least the Mansion was kind enough to supply a small pair of scissors," he says.

Then after a moment, he replies, tenuously, "But I am afraid I was not so kind to you, the last time that we spoke."

"How euphemistic of you. You think?" Steerpike asks mildly.

He sighs soundlessly and patiently. "I will admit it: the things that I said to you were cruel and I should not have spoken them," he says. "My history is not yours and I should not have hurled it at you as I did."

Steerpike stares at Titus a moment, in utter disbelief.

"Certainly you jest, Your Grace."

"Please, do not call me that: If it is true that we are of the same blood, it is not a title that I rightly deserve," he replies, not quite pleading, but close. "But I speak from my mind and heart. I have treated you wrongly, Master Steerpike, when there was no need for it. I would ask for your forgiveness, if you would grant it."

Steerpike stares, for a moment.

"... you must be mad," he says, but then, there is uncertainty in his composure galore.

"I was, perhaps, mad when I spoke to you so offensively," he replies, dryly, but still in earnest. "But if you do not wish to accept my apology, I will understand: after the way that I treated you, you would have every right not to accept it, nor to have any further contact or conversation with me."

Steerpike blinks, and sees an opportunity in the situation. "Mayhap," he says slowly, "I would consider it if I did not see this as a prank, my lord."

He shakes his head. "I assure you, there is no prank intended," he replies, and his tone couldn't be more serious. "For what it is worth, you have my word that I speak the truth.

"And what is that worth, exactly?" Steerpike still looks doubtful.

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