Independent RP blog for Mey Rin from Kuroshitsuji. The artwork is not mine, but most of the icons are edited by me. I will RP with anyone, Kuro or non-Kuro, OC or canon. Don't be afraid to shoot me a message!
I’ve mostly been over on Cattie, but also I have a lot of stuff going on at school which makes it hard to keep up four blogs!
"Ooh my! Sorry! I d-don’t seem to be watching were I’m going!—" she laughed nervously.
Entreri raises an eyebrow as Bard and Meyrin share a nervous chuckle between them regarding Finny. He suppresses a wince as he places a mental image to the concept of an enthusiastic boy with enough strength to cause whatever phenomenon it was that shook the entire mansion earlier shaking his hand heartily. Instead, the bedridden assassin offers a nod of gratitude towards Bard’s departing form, hiding his relief as he does so. The sheer number of variables, the utter foreignness of everything and the freakishly formidable nature of those immediately around him are elements that increase his feelings of vulnerability, a sensation he finds quite distasteful. He finds a small measure of relief in being alone with Meyrin once more. As unusual as she is to him, at least they have spent more time together than he has with the others. She represents an anchor, albeit an extremely tenuous one, in this unfamiliar place.
The steam rising languidly from the teacup carries to him a warm, soothing scent. The aroma aids his relaxation of those muscles that he tensed to fight off feelings of unease and those that invariably bundled together from the drilling pain in his side. He eyes the bacon as the maid explains Bard’s unusual cooking style, remembering his own unheard dry comments the previous day when Meyrin showed him Bard’s contributions to the battle. Nothing seems unusual about the strips of meat, other than the charred black sections of course, but he nods at her recommendation to not ingest them. Although charred bacon would not be anywhere close to the most questionable, or the most unpalatable, thing that Entreri has ever eaten, it seems customary that inhabitants of this land avoid eating such things.
He lifts the teacup with his right hand, his left bringing the saucer underneath it along. The balance and poise ingrained within him from years of various physical training makes this simple gesture as proper in appearance as if a refined noble had performed it. Ruses are often exposed through examination of the subtleties, and the disciplined man hopes that his attention to detail will continue to keep suspicion away from him. He takes a sip from the cup and lifts his brows, the pleasant taste surprising him. Although it is not the kind of beverage that he would actively seek out, the bemused assassin finds that he doesn’t mind the taste, which cannot be said of most of the teas from Calimport or anywhere that he finds as familiar.
Entreri looks at the maid curiously as she makes her assessment of her home. He wonders how she could possibly make such predictions about the advent of danger, but is quickly distracted from that train of thought by her offer. Even before she finishes, he is nodding, the prospect sounding very attractive, as it is clear that Meyrin’s weapons are highly efficacious. Although he isn’t certain yet of how he feels about the deadly metal wands, their inherent deadliness combined with what he has been able to determine to be a reliance on the skills and resourcefulness of their wielder make them very appealing to a man who believes in self-reliance most of all. He has also concluded that such instruments of death are not magical in nature, thus making them all the more fascinating to him.
The consideration of magic pulls another string of thought to the front of his mind. He realizes that at some point he had stopped paying attention to, or simply grew accustomed to, the occasional inharmonious words that stood out in the sentences spoken by his foreign companions. He certainly had tuned them out during Bard’s earlier speeches, for focusing on them would have led him to miss the blond man’s primary points. As he contemplates those irregular words, he sets the teacup and saucer back down on the tray, and dips a bow with his head to Meyrin, replying, “I would be honored to be trained in the handling of your weapons, my lady.” He smiles at her, his normally stoically cold eyes taking on some warmth as he expresses his genuine desire.
He picks up his fork but pauses, then meets the maid’s eyes once more. His tone pleasant and conversational, he asks her, “May I ask you to do something for me?” As he does, his left hand drops to the bed beside him, concealed from Meyrin’s line of sight by the tray. Deftly, his left thumb strokes the plain silver ring that rests upon a finger, loosening it so that he can effortlessly slip it off when he desires to do so.
Despite herself, Meyrin offered a brilliant and excited smile at his acceptance of training. She truly believed guns were a thing of beauty. Not only was she quite proud of her skill, but one of her favorite pastimes was to practice in the shooting range the Young Master had specially designed for the servants. Except that she rarely had a good excuse to use it, since she had ‘practice’ almost weekly with these assaults.
"We’ll start as soon as you’re better! You’ll learn quickly, I imagine, with your natural skill and talent for weapons. The hardest thing is probably getting used to the recoil. Perhaps we can set you up with one of your own to take for the rest of your travels!" she added excitedly, already thinking of what type of gun might be best for him. Definitely not a shotgun, those were too large and could be a burden to carry. Perhaps something smaller that he could carry on his person.
She was recalled from her thoughts by his question. “Of course,” she nodded, waiting for his request.
I don’t like the H word but suffice it to say that I have to take a small break from all my RP’s because of life stuff, so replies will be verrrrrry slow in all my accounts. I apologize for that! I do think they are mostly all in my drafts and I will be pumping them out little by little, I hope! I am tagging whoever I think I owe on this account. Let me know if I missed you!
*blushes* “Mister Drizzt! Th-this is so sudden it is!”
The assassin followed Jarlaxle into Meyrin’s room and watched as the colorful drow set the woman gently on her bed. When the mercenary asked him for a handkerchief he opened up a large pouch on his belt and removed a small bit of cloth which typically used for polishing gemstones. As he handed the cloth over to Jarlaxle and said in a mocking tone “Are you sure that this will break the spell? It would be just a shame if taking the damned ring off killed her.”
The mercenary kneeled next to the woman only offering his murderous companion a chuckle as an answer to his remark. Jarlaxle made sure that his fingers were completely covered by the cloth in his hand before he gently slid the ring off of Meyrin’s finger. He lifted his eye patch with his free hand for an opportunity to inspect the item a bit further. The ring was quite beautiful. He could certainly see why Drizzt had picked it up in the first place.
“See? I told you that there was nothing to worry about, my friend.” With a large smile he turned to face his human companion holding the ring up to Artemis’s eye level.
There was a dull pain in his head as the drow came back into consciousness. He opened his eyes and looked at the room around him. The dim sunrise shined through the window. The small room was exceptionally tidy, just as Artemis always insisted that their rooms remain. He stretched some of the weariness out of his muscles as he sat up and ran his ebony fingers through his snowy white mane, his bracer catching in his hair, tugging slightly.
Wait… Why am I in my armor?
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he pulled himself from the bed and moved toward the window. What he thought was the sunrise actually seemed to be the sunset.
Strange… What happened? I remember going to the bazaar with Miss Meyrin and –
Realization donned on the drow in a rush of panic. Nine Hells. Miss Meyrin. He had proposed to her…. And she said yes… He began to pace frantically across the room.
What am I going to do? I need to stop this wedding. Hopefully she will understand that it was all a misunderstanding. What in the Nine Hells is wrong with me? Why did I do this? Why did I give her that ring?
It had to be the ring. When he showed her the ring is when all of this started.
He went to grab his cloak and noticed that Entreri’s was still there as well.
Oh Gods. Artemis. He is going to kill her… if he hasn’t already.
With that the ranger dashed through the door of his own room and ran down the hall to the room he knew Meyrin was staying in. The door was open slightly. Throwing the door open the rest of the way he ran inside.
Gods. Where is she?
A sound caught his attention from the common area of the inn, it was the hearty laughter of Jarlaxle.
Quickly making his way down the hall he felt a sense of relief flood him when he saw Miss Meyrin, alive and well leaning against the wall. The maid had one arm folded across her chest the other hand was cupping her cheek. She looked quite perturbed about something, and Drizzt thought he knew what it was.
As he approached her he ruffled his hair nervously and bit down on his lower lip. This was so awkward. He hoped that the influence of the ring had gone away for her too.
Clearing his throat he addressed her, “Miss Meyrin?” the maid turned toward him and he tentatively he continued, “Miss Meyrin, about earlier…”
His train of thought trailed off as another round of jovial laughter brought his attention to the direction that Meyrin had been focused on earlier.
His jaw literally dropped as what he was seeing registered to him. Entreri and Jarlaxle were at a table near the back of the tavern area. Artemis sat on a chair while Jarlaxle straddled his waist. Artemis had his hands on Jarlaxle’s back beneath the mercenary’s trademark red vest digging deeply into the skin of the drow’s back. Jarlaxle’s ebony fingers wound tightly in the assassin’s hair as he closed the gap between them their lips locked in a heated and furious kiss.
Drizzt blinked several times trying to make sure that what was in front of him was not an illusion, but then he noticed a very familiar ring on the mercenary’s finger.
Meyrin had awoken in her room at the inn feeling quite groggy. One glance out the window told her the time of day.
She had jumped out of her bed and reached for her glasses where she usually kept them atop the nightstand, but they weren’t there. It took her a couple seconds to realize they were above her head, where she usually kept them when…
As the images of the day ran through her mind, Meyrin ran out of her bedroom to look for Artemis, to explain to him that it had all been a spell, now that she was conscious, she knew that it had been the ring all along. It made her believe that she needed Drizzt in order to survive. And Mister Artemis needed to know that
before he killed her.
As the former maid made her way down the staircase and toward the ground floor, she heard quite the commotion. Her pace slowed as she reached the last few steps, and what she saw at first she couldn’t comprehend.
There was Mr. Artemis, but he wasn’t angry at all. He and Mr. Jarlaxle were…
Meyrin stayed back, gaping, for what felt like long moments before Drizzt’s voice took her attention.
"I came down here to apologize to Mr. Artemis for overstepping my bounds with you…to explain that it had all been just… and then…" she shook her head.
"They’ve been at this for a while, I was told. It’s the ring," she mumbled to him. "What happened to us… it’s happening to them. What are we to do?" she asked anxiously.
"They were able to help us. I remember Mr. Jarlaxle had to sedate me…" her eyes widened as details of that event returned to her. "I tried to shoot him! I tried to kill him! And the baker! Oh god…” she hid her face in her hands, but quickly moved them to her cheeks, feeling quite appalled at herself.
"What are we to do? Mr. Jarlaxle would kill me in an instant, I imagine, if I try to take the ring, and Mr. Artemis…" she shook her head, staring blankly at the scene before them, feeling quite helpless.
"There’s another thing…" she added, recalling the pains she’d felt. "When I…thought that I loved you, I-I-I felt a pain in my chest every time you were away from me," she looked down, embarrassed, her cheeks red. "I suspect they’ll feel the same way."
So last week me and my friend were trying out a faceswap app
And for some reason it wouldn’t recognise that there were 2 faces in the picture
So we tried it from a different angle and
I was really confused and kind of offended at what it’d done to my face
NOT A DAY PASSES WHEN I DON’T LAUGH AT THIS
*Turns red in the face* “No I um… I think we should stay away from jewelry for a while!” *laughs nervously* ((Thank you!!! <3 <3 <3 ))
Felt like dressing up this morning. It’s the first time my dad has seen me in lolita. It went very well!