InsaneJournal

He spent the night curled up in an empty tent. Steerpike had ignored the key and book for a time, until they had started following him around. He had snatched the horrid things out of the air and stalked off, looking for something, ANYTHING that was familiar. After half a day of exploring he had to admit that he was not in Gormenghast anymore. What suprised him was how uncomfortable that made him feel. 

Steerpike was still curled up in the tent when he was woken by a gentle coughing sound. Someone was trying to wake him up, and he was not exactly willing. "Sirs will have to leave," said a voice, and he opened one eye to see a hideous little creature standing beside him, wearing strange armour and an apron. Not sticking around to find out what the thing wanted, he staggered out of the tent into the early morning light. With his arms wrapped around his now crumpled coat, he strolled around the strange fair, watching the hideous little creatures moving about and starting their day. 

He wondered where all the other strange people had gone. His own night had been less than pleasant, and though the weather had greatly improved his mood had definitely not. Steerpike found a log bench and sat down, trying to ignore the ache in his limbs from sleeping on the ground, or the rumble in his stomach that reminded him that he hadn't eaten in over a day. He was out of his depth, so he sulked.