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Jun. 27th, 2007 07:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
masterofritualAfter many long weeks of watching and biding his time, the one golden opportunity to escape the reach of Swelter arrived. He could see now that it wasn't right to be treated so badly, not when he had seen so many others in the Bar who were free to do what they pleased without fear. It made him angry.
And so, when the effort of the mammoth Swelter's argument with the creaking manservant of Lord Groan was too much for him and he passed out in a haze of outrage and flatulence, Steerpike grabbed his chance. He followed Flay out of the Kitchen (after aiming a good few hard kicks to the prone form of the chef on the Kitchen floor) and sneaked as quietly as he could behind him. After all, he knew nothing of the world outside the Kitchen and this ancient man, who had saved him from Swelter's angry hand, would surely know the way to great and exciting sights.
Of course, it wasn't quiet enough. A hand grabbed the back of Steerpike's shirt with a shock and fearfully, he begged for Flay's help. The slow creaking limbs seemed to be matched by a slow creaking brain as Steerpike's racing pleas took several moments to be processed. Flay's indignance at the perceived slight against the tradition of Gormenghast and his suspicion at the boy's unhappiness made it look like all hope was lost. Steerpike would be flung back into the burning heat of the Kitchen.
"Teach you to be... unhappy when Groan is born."
"A Groan, sir?...let me see. Please. Let me see a Groan."
"See a Groan? You?"
Flay laughed and Steerpike tried to chuckle along with him, when the old man grew suddenly quiet.
"Show you, kitchen rat. See what you've never seen. Forward, Swelter's slug!"
Steerpike found himself tumbling into a room full of cats, wondering who could possibly own them. His darting questions and hurried answers were perhaps too quick for Flay, who only answered or understood after some time. His eye was pushed towards a peep-hole in the wall, where he could see Lord Groan and the Doctor. They were discussing the new Groan and it seem that he was unnatural looking! That was of no real consequence to Steerpike though, aware that he did not look entirely natural himself.
The threat of being returned to the Kitchen made him grab onto this tiny fact though for dear life. He could never go back there, not now. Not after the cool taste of freedom.
"These are not for you. Back to hell and Swelter."
"No sir. Please. Not the Kitchens!"
"Where you belong."
"He's ugly, sir. I heard it. The new Lordship's unnatural. Lord Groan says so."
"So?"
"Not the Kitchens. Please?"
"Spit it out, Sink-boy!"
"If I go back to Swelter, I'll tell them all what I hear his Lordship say."
"You heard nothing."
"All the 'prentices will know. His little Lordship's hideous."
"You say nothing. I fix you!"
Being dragged screaming from the cat-room, indicated that his plan had backfired somewhat. Being thrown into gaol cemented that realisation. At least it was better than the Kitchen, he thought as he lay on the cool stone of the prison floor.
And so, when the effort of the mammoth Swelter's argument with the creaking manservant of Lord Groan was too much for him and he passed out in a haze of outrage and flatulence, Steerpike grabbed his chance. He followed Flay out of the Kitchen (after aiming a good few hard kicks to the prone form of the chef on the Kitchen floor) and sneaked as quietly as he could behind him. After all, he knew nothing of the world outside the Kitchen and this ancient man, who had saved him from Swelter's angry hand, would surely know the way to great and exciting sights.
Of course, it wasn't quiet enough. A hand grabbed the back of Steerpike's shirt with a shock and fearfully, he begged for Flay's help. The slow creaking limbs seemed to be matched by a slow creaking brain as Steerpike's racing pleas took several moments to be processed. Flay's indignance at the perceived slight against the tradition of Gormenghast and his suspicion at the boy's unhappiness made it look like all hope was lost. Steerpike would be flung back into the burning heat of the Kitchen.
"Teach you to be... unhappy when Groan is born."
"A Groan, sir?...let me see. Please. Let me see a Groan."
"See a Groan? You?"
Flay laughed and Steerpike tried to chuckle along with him, when the old man grew suddenly quiet.
"Show you, kitchen rat. See what you've never seen. Forward, Swelter's slug!"
Steerpike found himself tumbling into a room full of cats, wondering who could possibly own them. His darting questions and hurried answers were perhaps too quick for Flay, who only answered or understood after some time. His eye was pushed towards a peep-hole in the wall, where he could see Lord Groan and the Doctor. They were discussing the new Groan and it seem that he was unnatural looking! That was of no real consequence to Steerpike though, aware that he did not look entirely natural himself.
The threat of being returned to the Kitchen made him grab onto this tiny fact though for dear life. He could never go back there, not now. Not after the cool taste of freedom.
"These are not for you. Back to hell and Swelter."
"No sir. Please. Not the Kitchens!"
"Where you belong."
"He's ugly, sir. I heard it. The new Lordship's unnatural. Lord Groan says so."
"So?"
"Not the Kitchens. Please?"
"Spit it out, Sink-boy!"
"If I go back to Swelter, I'll tell them all what I hear his Lordship say."
"You heard nothing."
"All the 'prentices will know. His little Lordship's hideous."
"You say nothing. I fix you!"
Being dragged screaming from the cat-room, indicated that his plan had backfired somewhat. Being thrown into gaol cemented that realisation. At least it was better than the Kitchen, he thought as he lay on the cool stone of the prison floor.
