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

[77th_earl]

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

Comments

[rob_fellows]

Robin's been affected, but pucks have a tendency to keep their angst to themselves, so he'll be in the kitchen when Titus gets there, making coffee, because cafeine where you're nervous is apparently the way to go. This incoherence alone is telling of Robin's discomfort, but it's not something a stranger would pick out, very likely.

When he spots the young man, he blinks at him, tilts his head. "--- whoa, you look like you're having a rough night, buddy. Nightmares?"

[77th_earl]

And certainly not a stranger from a strange world where irrational things are normal. Titus breathes easier on seeing him. "I would hope that a nightmare is all that it was," he says. "I was writing a letter, when I heard some dark voice whispering to me, mocking me. And then some unseen hand took hold of my hand and tried to make it stab my other hand."

[rob_fellows]

"..... gross," Robin replies. "Good on you resisting it." Pause. "-- you feeling alright?"

[77th_earl]

"I am shaking like leaves in a hurricane, but I am whole in body," he says, sinking down on a kitchen chair. "Though now I fear for my safety in this place."

OOC

[not_snake_bite]

Just checking, is this a good time to -- idkwhat? *g*

Re: OOC

[77th_earl]

Heee... This could be interesting! Possible hatchet-burying could take place...

[not_snake_bite]

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. >.>

[77th_earl]

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."

[not_snake_bite]

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.

[77th_earl]

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?"

[drownedfuchsia]

Someone who hasn't really been affected? Fuchsia! After an incident of being failed prey for the wolves, only to have a rather handsome champion save her, she's actually in quite a good mood.

It's her champion she's thinking of when she finds Titus.

Her good mood vanishes when looking at him. When something is wrong with Titus, handsome champions cannot improve her mood.

"Titus?"

[77th_earl]

He jolts a bit as he looks up at her. "Fuschia... Thank the Stones, you are here," he says, relieved. "Have you heard any strange whispers in the shadows?" he asks.

[drownedfuchsia]

Stepping closer to him, in that jerky, awkward way she moves, full of concern, and a little fear. She can be rather empathetic at times, so it's more a mirror of what she sees in him.

"I've heard nothing. What should I have heard, Titus?"

[77th_earl]

He breathes a little easier. "You are fortunate then that you heard nothing," he says. "There is some dire being, some evil spirit that has been whispering terrible things to me."

[surfaceshine]

Dean did not happen to run into that particular nasty on the night in question, but he did have a throw down with a couple nasties of his own; and while he is the first to admit that plugging a few of them had been just the kind of stress relief he needed - now that the added stress of knowing Sam is alright, more or less, has been alleviated; and it must, or Dean wouldn't be wandering aimlessly in the Mansion or anywhere else - he's kind of moved on to the just plain bitchy stage of things.

Food usually helps with that, more or less, so that's why Dean eventually limps into the kitchen, skin kind of pale but features determined. His injured thigh is wrapped tightly under worn, loose jeans so it's not readily obvious why he's moving so stiffly, but he's pulled the sleeves of his tan henley up to his elbows so the gauze wrapped around one of his forearms is pretty visible.

[77th_earl]

Titus might be on his third or fourth cup of green tea, determined to stay awake for as long as he can tonight. The wolves howling outside are certainly helping this, but the tea is an extra precaution. Thus he's likely a bit more jumpy than usual when Dean enters.

He might hear a slightly high-pitched "Oh?!" coming from a corner behind the table, and if Dean follows the sound, he might spy a middle-sized youth in his late teens, with violet eyes. His somewhat emo-ish brown hair makes him look oddly modern, but it's at odds with his oddly cut black suit, which makes him look like he wandered in out of some weird costume drama.

[surfaceshine]

Dean had been pretty single minded when he came through the door, but at the unidentified sound, his demeanor changes abruptly; his good hand is on the hilt of the khukri blade strapped at his hip before he's even stopped moving, weight shifting to the balls of his feet, ready. His jaw tightens down and down to counter the pain of moving on the injured leg cautiously instead of gingerly, and a thin bead of sweat breaks out on his upper lip as a result, but he still manages it.

Which is why he feels kind of stupid when he sees Titus. Both eyebrows raised, he immediately lets his hip lean on the nearest counter to take the weight onto his good leg, and exhales sharply. The hunter has an ingrained reaction to shaggy brown emo hair, and he's too tired to catch it kicking in while he considers the kid.

"You might wanna ease up on the caffeine there, kiddo."

[77th_earl]

The youngster looks at him, puzzled. "Ease up on what?" He then glances at the cup on the table before him. "Oh, you mean the tea. I think that my nerves were tightly wound even without it: I would rather not go to sleep tonight and so I have been trying to keep my eyes from closing."