Enter, Master Snakebite

[not_snake_bite]

"Ha! You ill-begotten, unworthy wretch!  You did not kill me!  Nothing can kill Master Steerpike, nothing!" He claims, repeats, singing and dancing madly as he flails in the darkening, rainy night.  Until... In a surprising deft movement he turns and stares at an uncanny source of light, a beacon in the night, and he suddenly realized he is no

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[lionandboar]

Admetus likes to place the host, even if it isn't actually his house, so of course he comes to the door. "Hello, sir," he says. "Welcome."

[not_snake_bite]

The door is open and (oh, but it must be a servant, who else would attend the lowly occupation of opening doors?) doesn't quite look at the person who opens the door.

"Greetings, Master Steerpike," says our anti-hero, "at your service" though his eyes are not quite conveying servitude, and neither does the ridiculously flourished bow he affords Admetus. "Would the Master be home?" He asks with the charming confidence of one who is already well installed in the household. "Do let them know I am here."

T: Oh, dear. What has Admetus gotten himself into. Run, my dear, run, for my master is a monster !

[lionandboar]

"Admetus of Pherae," he replies, bowing as well. "There is no master here. But I would be glad to offer you food, or rest, or whatever you require after your journey." He assumes there has been a journey-- the fellow certainly looks like it.

[not_snake_bite]

Steerpike has never heard of Pherae, nor of Admetus, but the name impresses him, and so he opts to be more curt than less. "Your kindness obliges me, My Lord," he says obsequiously. "I am your servant."

Yes. Until he can take over, that is, and suckle this place for all its worth. And then, perhaps if he has a shred of a conscience left, he'll be thankful.

[scionofkushiel]

Ohdear. This could be interesting. XD

Melisande answers, her smile just as charming, if with a slight edge. She lifts her eyebrows at the stranger, her flawless face mildly curious. "Hello?"

[not_snake_bite]

Well, hello.

If Steerpike still had thoughts for Fuschia, they have just evaporated into complete oblivion, as have any memories that might have been hers.

He bows, elegantly, skillfully, and a little bit ridiculously. "Master Steerpike, at your service," he offers with the most charming smile he can muster. This one's actually sincere.

[scionofkushiel]

Melisande smiles back, twitching back her blue-black hair, her eyes watching him closely. She inclines her head gracefully. "Melisande Shahrizai, at yours," she offers, her voice slightly lower and huskier. "Step inside, please." She steps back, holding the door open.

[not_snake_bite]

He steps in without hesitation, and yet this is vaguely reminiscent of moments so long ago. A woman let him in at Gormenghast too, and he would have made her everything, if she had only let him do so.

He turns around, and looks at her with appreciation. Beautiful. Deadly beautiful. She could kill with but a look. "The honor is all mine," he tells her with another sweeping bow.

T: Yes, it's amusing how they seem to get antsy, those bad guys. I almost took up Phedre, by the way. Still thinking about it. :P

[i_flynomore]

Lynette opens the door in her usual disaffected way--another born-man. They keep coming--and says, "Hello, ser."

[not_snake_bite]

Well. Isn't that perfect? Steerpike walks in - dirty overalls - no matter the good looks, this one's in a serving position. Maybe she will be useful to him, but not as much as he would hope. Still, he has no interest in doing away with her for now.

"Master Steerpike, of Gormenghast," he said with a cluth on his jacket. "And very cold and wet, would like shelter from the masters of the manor."

[i_flynomore]

"Yes, ser. There are rooms on the third floor bloc. I'll show you if you want."

[not_snake_bite]

"I should expect no less of you," he replies with an almost sneer. "What is your name, servant?"

[hardlyagravated]

Laurel's had a long day; snapped at by a suicidally depressed teenager, utterly unsuccessful at finding her husband, and feeling very alone at present. But she's long internalized manners as a survival skill, and curtseys shallowly.

"Good eve, sir," quietly but not timidly, perhaps the fairer for her preoccupation, though it's been long enough since anyone found her so.

[not_snake_bite]

Well this one is certainly well spoken, Steerpike notes, though why she lets his stand in the rain any longer, he can't fathom. "Please," he says with puppy-set eyes, "It's so cold and damp outside, and I am such a long way from home..."

Of course, that the devil be so far from home is to him a blessing he couldn't expect - isn't that just what he needed? A fresh start in a new and luxurious place?

[hardlyagravated]

"Oh, aye, sir, come in," she says. "It is not my house, but no one yet has claimed to own it. You must have just arrived. But come in and get warm."

[not_snake_bite]

"Why thank you My Lady," he replies as he enters the place. She has a look about her of the concerned (selfabsorbed?) Fuschia, and for a moment he only examines her under his brow, like one might a kitten, trying to decide whether to pet it or drown it.

Having already caused on kitten's death by drowning (Fuschia), Steerpike decides against anything unpleasant for his greeter, for now. She's lovely enough to entertain him, at least.

T: I'm so sorry about my puppet. He's such a bad socken. Shall I put him back into the puppet bag?

[tobecleverer]

"Let yourself in," calls a female voice.

[not_snake_bite]

... and so he does, pushing the door slowly. It creaks a little and it is close to a pleasurable sound to him, but Steerpike's pleasures are more complex, and thus he enters the place without fear. He cannot die: the day has already proven this to him.

[tobecleverer]

"I suppose you have just arrived," says the ghost.

[not_snake_bite]

"As a matter of fact I...," Steerpike freezes. This, of all things, is rather unnatural.