[Mingling Post] Open University (Cont'd)

[only_paul]

On the board in the common room, there's a list of open classes. Available classes
(schedules may be determined bona fide by the instructor and the student):

• History (Paul *****)
• Political science (Zillah Katz)
• Alchemy (Alphonse Elric)
• First Aid (Dr. Muraki)
• Vampirism in legend and popular culture (Dr. Muraki)

Comments

[77th_earl]

It's getting on toward what would be the start of the school year in Gormenghast, and though Titus has been following his own rudimentary self-paced studies -- read: browsing the library and reading what books catch his attention -- out of habit, he's thinking it's only proper that he should apply himself to something more serious (though his definition of applying himself likely is more fluid than most people's...).

He's studying the list of courses and trying to decide what looks the most interesting, when he realizes there is someone else intently studying the list as well. He turns to address the newcomer, when he stops in his tracks, almost doing a kind of double-take when he gets a good look at him.

The man next to him is younger and his face somewhat less severe -- mostly for its distinct lack of a half-mask covering the burns on one side of it, but otherwise he's unmistakable.

The floor threatens to cave in under Titus's feet and the walls to fold in and smother him, but he rights himself by clenching the bit of flint in his pocket and a question blurts from his mouth.

"What are you doing here?!"

[not_snake_bite]

He's in fact the same age as Titus. Intriguing, isn't it?

Steerpike stares back at him, eyes a touch wide.

"-- I beg your pardon?"

For once, his surprise is utterly unfeigned.

[77th_earl]

The fact that this version of his worst enemy and personal bete noir looks to be about his own age gets past Titus for the moment. The memories of the days and weeks leading up to his departure from Gormenghast are too fresh in hia mind: Flay's murder, the storms that brought on the floods, Steerpike's attack during the Carvers' Ceremony, the theft of his boat, Fuschia's death -- did she jump, fall, or did this monster push her? The last time Titus laid eyes on him was when the Countess and her flotilla had Steerpike cornered in a flooded room, when Titus had dove into the ivy where the rat had hidden, and stabbed him to death. He clenches the stone in his pocket hard enough that his knuckles start to ache. "How did you get here? The last time I laid eyes on your face, you were drenched in your own blood and dead, a fitting end to a kitchen rat."

[not_snake_bite]

The look of bemusement goes from sincere to fake as the anger fills him. Kitchen rat. He will never (never) - NEVER - accept that epithet.

"I'm afraid we've never met, my lord," he replies obsequiously - his tone is calm and courteous, but he'll have to go punch somehting soon.

Kitchen rat. He can feel Swelter's hands groping every time someone calls him that.

Kitchen rat.

[77th_earl]

If nothing else, Steerpike could always spar with his master, who's not above adding more physical defense skills to his education. But then again, the not-so-good doctor can easily pin a shinigami, so it might not be such a wise idea.

But Titus is neither backing down nor calming down. "Don't run try to hide behind your lies, Master Steerpike," he snarls, his other fist clenching by his side. You burned my father's library and drove him to madness. You starved my aunts, Lady Clarice and Lady Cora to death. You tried to kill me. You killed Mr. Flay. You tried to kill my mother. You hurt my sister. And you stole my *BOAT*!" he snarls.

[not_snake_bite]

It's all about the boat, isn't it, Titus?

... "I did no such things," Steerpike replies, horrified (but mildly on the inside, very much so on the outside).

"We've never even met -- forgive me if I've -- and what boat?"

I am so, so, so amused.

[77th_earl]

The theft of the boat and Fuschia's death might have been the catalyst that roused Titus from his despondency and propelled him to defend his realm for its own sake, but he puts that aside for now, asserting the title he has largely laid aside. His grip on the chunk of the Stones tightens until a sharp edge digs into his flesh and he stands a little straighter as he replies, "I am Lord Titus of Gormenghast, heir to the Stones, defender of the Tracts, keeper of the Law and seventy-seventh earl of the House of Groan."

[not_snake_bite]

... Steerpike gapes for just a moment.

"That's impossible."

Titus was a newborn when I came.

[77th_earl]

"No more impossible than you turning up here after you died," he snaps. still rather blind to the fact this version is half the age of the one he knows. "After I killed you to end your vile rebellion and protect my realm and what remained of my family." He has no weapon, but he's unconsciously taken a more squared off stance, as if expecting an attack of some kind.

[not_snake_bite]

Well. No wonder I wanted you off the throne. You're as incapable and insane as the rest of the Groans, Steerpike thinks.

"In case you did not notice," Steerpike informs him blandly, "my lord, Titus Groan is a babe in diapers, which as much as you might like to be, you are not."

[77th_earl]

"In case *you* did not notice, I *am* seventeen years of age: time has passed in Gormenghast," he snaps back. "I have been told that time here does not run as it does in the worlds from which people have arrived. It seems to have rolled back for you, though..." Which for the moment seems to be the only way he's going to acknowledge his rival's youth.

[not_snake_bite]

"Which means that you may have killed my future self in the future, or claim such a thing, but here, I am a man you've never met. Pray remember it."

[77th_earl]

This effectively shuts up the torrent of fury for the moment. Then with a sigh, he asks, "Why would you want to rule the Stones to begin with? It isn't the kind of life anyone with sense should desire: it leaves one barely any room to think for oneself."

[not_snake_bite]

Steerpike looks at Titus with visible disdain. You know nothing.

"You find your own life so very pitiful, don't you?" You feel sorry for yourself, don't you?

Spoiled brat.

[77th_earl]

He knows a fraction of what Steerpike has endured, from overhearing his enemy pouring it out when he thought no one could hear except for Satan, the monkey. Unless he'd planned that as a ruse, inspired to instill some measure of compassion in anyone who might be following him. But even if he confessed to this knowledge, his enemy will likely not believe him.

"I've... heard things. Only a hint of what life threw at you," he says, with a note of compassion, but it doesn't last long. "Yet tell me, is a painful past excuse enough to justify destroying another man's family to claim his inheritance?"

[not_snake_bite]

"I know not," Steerpike replies with calculated humility. "Certainly, you are better educated in such dissertations than I could ever dream to be. I am only a kitchen rat, after all."

There's a touch of animosity underlying it, but Steepike is good at pouring honey on his tongue.