I wipe away the mansion's dirt!

"The housemaid shall purge the filth from this manor!"
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!
*semi-hiatus*

couragemadnessfriendshiplove:

estychan:

fandoms-are-my-one-true-love:

This is the single most amazing thing I have ever seen [x]

HOW THO

I CAN’T COMPREHEND THIS MUCH SKILL

image

Let’s make Dean in gym shorts the most reblogged picture on Tumblr.

fangirling-fallen-angel:

somethingfangirly:

joanne-the-fallen-angel-of-pizza:

idgit-pies-and-puppydogeyes:

image

“Challenge accepted!” —SPN fandom.

omg this is still going

IT’S A RULE TO REBLOG EVERY TIME IT SHOWS UP ON YOUR DASH.

i’m not even in the supernatural fandom and i’m still going to reblog

lost count of the times i’ve reblogged this

I swear like half of those reblogs is me

…………………..it’s still not fucking broken 

image

Jesus fuck this is almost at 12,000,000 

doctorsherlocklokison:

will-you-be-electric-sheep:

Watch it in video

interesting how the answers change as the men get younger

funny how the first guy is deciding this for his son. as if his opinion is actually important.

((Unfortunately his opinion is important in that culture, in that country, in terms of whether the son will be shunned by the family. Also in India some people still practice the thing where the parents choose the spouse. So, yea, probably in his family his opinion really is what’s important.))

Stranger in a Strange Land

entreri-artemis:

The assassin watches the newcomer with intrigue. Although the word that Meyrin uses to describe the man remains indecipherable, Entreri decides that it is sufficient for the present to think of that unfamiliar word as akin to a name or a title. This conclusion eases his discomfort somewhat, for he has come across many nonsensical and meaningless appellations throughout his life.

He dips his head in courteous acknowledgement of the doctor, his eyes scanning the other man’s appearance as they follow him about the room. Entreri notes the deepset lines in the older man’s face, however he is confused as he also notes the grace and youthfulness of the man’s steps. More strikingly however is the constant glimmer within the doctor’s eyes, a sparkle that is disturbingly reminiscent of sparkles he has seen in the eyes of mages and wizards. The corners of the assassin’s lips turn downwards faintly as his study causes him to recollect the many issues he has had with wizards in the past.

Entreri suppresses his urge to tense up as the unusual man sits down beside him. He automatically notes the proximity of several vulnerable points on the “doctor’s” body and analyses exactly how, even in his weakened state, he could disable him rapidly. His incredible self control, coupled with the obvious degree of trust that the formidable Meyrin has in the doctor are all that allow him to restrain his debilitating strikes.

A blink is all that the disciplined assassin allows himself, despite his amusement at the other man’s words. No stranger to injury, Entreri is more than familiar with maintaining the integrity of wound dressings. Such specific questions about the states of injuries are not asked by clerics and other healers, and certainly none of them have ever employed an implement similar to the one hanging around the doctor’s neck. Containing the instinctive urge to move away as the intent man lifts a metallic tendril towards him, Entreri answers, “No to both accounts.” He nods in acknowledgement of the other man’s explanation and calmly replies, “Very well,” while questions erupt in his head about how such a strange device came into existence. The tube designed to listen to another’s breathing seems quite crude, despite the obvious craftsmanship that has gone into the device. Further, it is unclear what the one wielding that instrument intends to derive from his examination.

Meyrin watched from the doorway, ready to leave at a moment’s notice should the doctor request more privacy with his patient. She intently observed the subtle, barely perceptible changes in Mr. Entreri’s expression, remembering her own first visit with this doctor when she arrived at the mansion three years ago. She wasn’t too complacent either at first about letting some stranger touch her, only she couldn’t claim to have been as graceful about it as Mr. Entreri was being. She was ashamed to recall it had taken the butler Sebastian to make her come to her senses and let the doctor’s arm go.

From her place she could see the subtle, barely perceptible changes in Mr. Entreri’s muscles as he tensed. She felt something in her chest, like a pull to say something to explain the doctor’s actions, to ensure Mr. Entreri that this man was to be trusted, but she held back. She’d have only gotten in the way.

The doctor nodded at Entreri’s response. He listened to the man’s heartbeat for several moments as he reached into his coat and retrieved his pocket watch. He wondered about the cause of the man’s somewhat grayish complexion, and worried whether it might be indicative of some ailment. He listened to the man’s heartbeat in silence, counting while looking at his pocketwatch.

“Your heart rate seems normal,” he said, “no apparent pulmonary obstructions. Though I wonder about your complexion, as it seems a bit…” he thought for a few seconds, trying to find the best word other than ‘grim’. “Seems a bit pale.”

"Miss Meyrin," he suddenly called out. "You’ll be my nurse again."

The maid quickly made her way to their side, stepping on her shoelace but catching herself before falling. “Careful please, it would not do for Earl Phantomhive to have an injured guest and an injured maid,” he smiled, and Meyrin lowered her eyes in embarrassment. “Please retrieve the items from my briefcase.”

Already knowing the drill, Meyrin opened the bag to retrieve gloves, putting them on before retrieving a cloth from the doctor’s bag and laying it over the nightstand. She retrieved bandages, adhesive tape, scissors, and ointments and set them atop the towel on the nightstand, ready to hand them over when requested. She looked toward Mr. Entreri and offered a smile to reassure him, just in case.

“Mr. Entreri, are you allergic to any medication?”

confession of the day

i read the book, i thought it was bullshit, but i confess i’d totally watch 50 shades of grey if the lead actors were stoya and james deen. 

"Mey Rin!" the gardener ran over to his fellow servant, jumping into her arms, tears streaming down his face. He was covered in scrapes and bruises, his shirt slightly signed. Pluto sat behind them looking innocent.
pluto-the-hound

pluto-the-hound:

thephantomhivemaid:

"Finny! What’s happen—" one glance toward the dog—man—dog before them told the maid the most likely reason for her friend’s distress. "Oh, Finny!" She hugged the young male before turning to the culprit. "Bad, bad Pluto!"

Pluto whined and sunk back when he was being scolded, the gardener continuing to cry. It was an accident! …..as was most of Finny’s injuries now a days. He was strong but that didn’t mean that the hound couldn’t hurt him even if he didn’t mean to.

Meyrin rubbed Finny’s back to comfort him. When she heard Pluto whine, she couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for having scolded him. But poor Finny! Lately he had more bruises and burns than she’d ever seen on him. Still, the gardener did love to play with the dog, even though he knew how dangerous it could be. “You have to be more careful Finny,” she advised. 

The Very Beginning of Black Butler

Ciel: *sells soul*
Sebastian: Aww yeah, delicious depraved soul. This dinner is going to rock my world. It's going to be a cinch. Butlering's a cinch. Revenge? Easy as pie. Best deal I ever made.
Sebastian: *knows Ciel for 1 week*
Sebastian: I fucked up, I fucked up so hard. No soul is worth this aggravation.
"Mey Rin!" the gardener ran over to his fellow servant, jumping into her arms, tears streaming down his face. He was covered in scrapes and bruises, his shirt slightly signed. Pluto sat behind them looking innocent.
pluto-the-hound

"Finny! What’s happen—" one glance toward the dog—man—dog before them told the maid the most likely reason for her friend’s distress. "Oh, Finny!" She hugged the young male before turning to the culprit. "Bad, bad Pluto!"

Slightly OOC

((It is my crack-canon/is that an oxymoron?/ that Modern!Meyrin would be totally in love with the character of Dean Winchester. But she’d be afraid of watching his show.))

galaxypeen:

Why I’m A Feminist

((I love this. This. Just. Perfect. The last gif right there especially. Because many people even in, yes, this, the 21st century, still believe that feminism is the idea that women are better than men, and it makes them afraid and it makes them hate feminists. And they need to be educated, because if they knew what feminism really is, they would not be afraid and they would probably realize that they, too, are feminists. ))

A Strange New Place|Closed RP|@thephantomhivemaid

bardalicious:

thephantomhivemaid:

The woman had woken before the sunrise, as usual, to once again find herself in unexpected surroundings. It had been a few days, but she was not yet used to waking up in a comfortable bed, covered with a real blanket, in a real bedroom. She still had some trouble believing her luck. 

Which is why she never questioned why the butler seemed to be awake at all hours, or any of the other strange things she had been noticing since she started working at the Phantomhive manor as the housemaid, not the least of which was the fact that she was working for a ten year old boy whose life was threatened apparently quite a bit. But she had a worthy job now.

She was still getting used to the idea of being a housemaid. Though it was just a cover, Meyrin had been doing the best she could, as she had been instructed by the butler. Not that he even needed to ask. She was getting a very comfortable salary, with bonuses twice yearly, and all of her weapons would be paid for in full. And all for just doing the thing she was so good at. The steward, she had found was a nice old man who had been with the family for years. The butler was easy on the eyes. And the Young Master had given her a gift on her very first day!

She had nearly cried, she’d never received a gift before. She wore her glasses with pride, though she was a bit embarrassed at first. To her understanding, glasses were only worn by very important people or those who worked under very important people. What more could she ask for? 

That morning, the butler had announced that he needed her to remain in the kitchen after her usual night chores. There was something he needed to speak with her about. The maid had panicked. Was she not doing a good job? She had been trying her absolute best, but had already broken four plates in the short time she’d been there. She’d also tripped a few times and almost broken her glasses. To be honest, she was on edge much of the time. Even the butler had already talked to her about being careful. So she was worried she was about to be fired.

"I’ve hired a cook," the butler announced, relieving the maid entirely. "I will introduce him to you today. Please wait in the kitchen after your evening chores. And please be polite and get along. It would not do the Young Master any good if you two try to kill each other."

Meyrinhad wondered why he said that, then remembered how on edge she’d been. Also, she wondered whether this new cook was the same as her. She had waited that evening, as instructed, when Sebastian walked in with another man. 

For some reason she could not explain, she felt more anxious than usual. Perhaps she was just not used to being around that many males. It was true she didn’t know how to talk to them. She stood by as Sebastian showed the new male around the kitchen before turning to her.

"This is Meryin," he announced, "you two may get acquainted while I tend to the young master’s needs." 

With that, he left, and the maid simply stood in her corner. 

"Uh….the name’s Bardroy….." the man said. Meyrin looked around a bit behind her large glasses before mumbling. 

"Meyrin… a-as he said…" she glanced down in embarrassment at the redundancy, but just for a second. 

She truly did not know what to say and it was getting a bit awkward as she realized she’d been quiet for too long.

"Um… it’s nice to meet you." 

“‘right back at ya, L’il lady.” 

He had been told at a younger age that he was a bit rude and he didn’t know how to talk properly to anyone. That included women, especially since he never had a mother figure in his life and he wasn’t sure how to say anything without hurting one’s feeling.

What did Sebastian think he was doing leaving the two of them alone? He didn’t know what to talk to her about, and it seemed like she didn’t seem very comfortable either. After all, she was probably the only in the manor-she probably would have to ward off the men that worked here.

He wondered how many of them there would be, he heard that they planned on hiring a gardener as well. He was certain it would take more than two of them to defend the manor, well….three if they counted Sebastian-but he figured he was too busy tending the young master.

"So…." He started, starting to get a little nervous. When she looked at him expectantly he faltered, and decided on counting the tile on the floor. When did he get this….weird? He wasn’t used to feeling awkward, usually he blurted out what he wanted to say and if they didn’t like him for it-it was their problem. Not his.

"Well, it seems like you two are well acquainted,” Sebastian’s voice chimed in, followed by that they heard him clap once to get their attention; "if you two will follow me, I will introduce you to the last of the servants and show you what needs to be done. I would advise you not to have too much interaction with this one for a while, the gardener is quite strong." 

As they followed the butler, the chef became hyper-aware of where Meyrin was. How slow she was walking, how she carried herself-and how she was watching him just the same. It somehow unnerved him, like she was sizing him up or something.

He tried to ignore it. He had to work with her, he might as well push through his distrust and try to get along. 

This could prove to be difficult.

"So…." the new chef, Bardroy, started. Meyrin looked up expectantly, somehow more comfortable meeting his eyes from behind her glasses, knowing that he could not really see hers that well. It gave her a sense of anonymity which she embraced, especially since she did not know him that well. 

She thought he was going to say something, and saw him looking at the tile. To try to add to the conversation, or lack of, she was about to mention something about the tile, anything, how nice it was, or the detail they must have put in building the kitchen, and then the butler chimed in and asked them to follow.

Meyrin breathed somewhat easier. She was going to start talking about the tile? Really? She gave a barely perceptible shake of her head, toward herself and her own awkwardness. As they followed the butler she tried to walk a step behind the chef. She did not feel comfortable with people behind her. After all, a prey cannot be caught if it’s behind you. 

What was she thinking? She mentally slapped herself. This was a real job, she didn’t have to be so on guard all the time, so defensive. 

Still, she could not help but watch him closely. It was a habit, really. Despite appearing raggedy in looks, he carried himself with an air of discipline… stoic…

A soldier.

Rather than help her feel safer, she felt even more on guard. What would happen if they did not get along? Would it really get to the point where they’d try to kill each other? These soldier types usually had a sort of moral code, but what if he discovered her past? What if he decided she was not to be trusted because of it? 

Sebastian led them outside, which surprised Meyrin because it was dark. Why was this person kept waiting outside? She was prepared to come face to face with this “very strong” gardener, imagining a big, hulky, muscular man, perhaps with scars on his face. 

As they rounded the corner toward one of the gardens, the shadows created by the odd lighting made it appear as exactly that. As they walked closer however, the tall and wide shadow of a man diminished and they came face to face with…

one of the statues. 

The butler cleared his throat, and from behind the statue, out came a tender looking young lad, not much older than the Young Master himself. 

"This is Finnian, our gardener. Finnian, meet Meyrin and Bardroy."

Meyrin’s eyebrows shot up, then met in confusion, then shot up again, then she squinted her eyes, all within a fraction of a second. Her mouth hung open a little in confusion and shock, and all she could do was glance over at Bardroy. 

viwan themes
t. You can move the credit to another page, as long as it remains on the blog. -->
I wipe away the mansion's dirt!

"The housemaid shall purge the filth from this manor!"
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!
*semi-hiatus*

couragemadnessfriendshiplove:

estychan:

fandoms-are-my-one-true-love:

This is the single most amazing thing I have ever seen [x]

HOW THO

I CAN’T COMPREHEND THIS MUCH SKILL

image

Let’s make Dean in gym shorts the most reblogged picture on Tumblr.

fangirling-fallen-angel:

somethingfangirly:

joanne-the-fallen-angel-of-pizza:

idgit-pies-and-puppydogeyes:

image

“Challenge accepted!” —SPN fandom.

omg this is still going

IT’S A RULE TO REBLOG EVERY TIME IT SHOWS UP ON YOUR DASH.

i’m not even in the supernatural fandom and i’m still going to reblog

lost count of the times i’ve reblogged this

I swear like half of those reblogs is me

…………………..it’s still not fucking broken 

image

Jesus fuck this is almost at 12,000,000 

doctorsherlocklokison:

will-you-be-electric-sheep:

Watch it in video

interesting how the answers change as the men get younger

funny how the first guy is deciding this for his son. as if his opinion is actually important.

((Unfortunately his opinion is important in that culture, in that country, in terms of whether the son will be shunned by the family. Also in India some people still practice the thing where the parents choose the spouse. So, yea, probably in his family his opinion really is what’s important.))

Stranger in a Strange Land

entreri-artemis:

The assassin watches the newcomer with intrigue. Although the word that Meyrin uses to describe the man remains indecipherable, Entreri decides that it is sufficient for the present to think of that unfamiliar word as akin to a name or a title. This conclusion eases his discomfort somewhat, for he has come across many nonsensical and meaningless appellations throughout his life.

He dips his head in courteous acknowledgement of the doctor, his eyes scanning the other man’s appearance as they follow him about the room. Entreri notes the deepset lines in the older man’s face, however he is confused as he also notes the grace and youthfulness of the man’s steps. More strikingly however is the constant glimmer within the doctor’s eyes, a sparkle that is disturbingly reminiscent of sparkles he has seen in the eyes of mages and wizards. The corners of the assassin’s lips turn downwards faintly as his study causes him to recollect the many issues he has had with wizards in the past.

Entreri suppresses his urge to tense up as the unusual man sits down beside him. He automatically notes the proximity of several vulnerable points on the “doctor’s” body and analyses exactly how, even in his weakened state, he could disable him rapidly. His incredible self control, coupled with the obvious degree of trust that the formidable Meyrin has in the doctor are all that allow him to restrain his debilitating strikes.

A blink is all that the disciplined assassin allows himself, despite his amusement at the other man’s words. No stranger to injury, Entreri is more than familiar with maintaining the integrity of wound dressings. Such specific questions about the states of injuries are not asked by clerics and other healers, and certainly none of them have ever employed an implement similar to the one hanging around the doctor’s neck. Containing the instinctive urge to move away as the intent man lifts a metallic tendril towards him, Entreri answers, “No to both accounts.” He nods in acknowledgement of the other man’s explanation and calmly replies, “Very well,” while questions erupt in his head about how such a strange device came into existence. The tube designed to listen to another’s breathing seems quite crude, despite the obvious craftsmanship that has gone into the device. Further, it is unclear what the one wielding that instrument intends to derive from his examination.

Meyrin watched from the doorway, ready to leave at a moment’s notice should the doctor request more privacy with his patient. She intently observed the subtle, barely perceptible changes in Mr. Entreri’s expression, remembering her own first visit with this doctor when she arrived at the mansion three years ago. She wasn’t too complacent either at first about letting some stranger touch her, only she couldn’t claim to have been as graceful about it as Mr. Entreri was being. She was ashamed to recall it had taken the butler Sebastian to make her come to her senses and let the doctor’s arm go.

From her place she could see the subtle, barely perceptible changes in Mr. Entreri’s muscles as he tensed. She felt something in her chest, like a pull to say something to explain the doctor’s actions, to ensure Mr. Entreri that this man was to be trusted, but she held back. She’d have only gotten in the way.

The doctor nodded at Entreri’s response. He listened to the man’s heartbeat for several moments as he reached into his coat and retrieved his pocket watch. He wondered about the cause of the man’s somewhat grayish complexion, and worried whether it might be indicative of some ailment. He listened to the man’s heartbeat in silence, counting while looking at his pocketwatch.

“Your heart rate seems normal,” he said, “no apparent pulmonary obstructions. Though I wonder about your complexion, as it seems a bit…” he thought for a few seconds, trying to find the best word other than ‘grim’. “Seems a bit pale.”

"Miss Meyrin," he suddenly called out. "You’ll be my nurse again."

The maid quickly made her way to their side, stepping on her shoelace but catching herself before falling. “Careful please, it would not do for Earl Phantomhive to have an injured guest and an injured maid,” he smiled, and Meyrin lowered her eyes in embarrassment. “Please retrieve the items from my briefcase.”

Already knowing the drill, Meyrin opened the bag to retrieve gloves, putting them on before retrieving a cloth from the doctor’s bag and laying it over the nightstand. She retrieved bandages, adhesive tape, scissors, and ointments and set them atop the towel on the nightstand, ready to hand them over when requested. She looked toward Mr. Entreri and offered a smile to reassure him, just in case.

“Mr. Entreri, are you allergic to any medication?”

confession of the day

i read the book, i thought it was bullshit, but i confess i’d totally watch 50 shades of grey if the lead actors were stoya and james deen. 

"Mey Rin!" the gardener ran over to his fellow servant, jumping into her arms, tears streaming down his face. He was covered in scrapes and bruises, his shirt slightly signed. Pluto sat behind them looking innocent.
pluto-the-hound

pluto-the-hound:

thephantomhivemaid:

"Finny! What’s happen—" one glance toward the dog—man—dog before them told the maid the most likely reason for her friend’s distress. "Oh, Finny!" She hugged the young male before turning to the culprit. "Bad, bad Pluto!"

Pluto whined and sunk back when he was being scolded, the gardener continuing to cry. It was an accident! …..as was most of Finny’s injuries now a days. He was strong but that didn’t mean that the hound couldn’t hurt him even if he didn’t mean to.

Meyrin rubbed Finny’s back to comfort him. When she heard Pluto whine, she couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for having scolded him. But poor Finny! Lately he had more bruises and burns than she’d ever seen on him. Still, the gardener did love to play with the dog, even though he knew how dangerous it could be. “You have to be more careful Finny,” she advised. 

The Very Beginning of Black Butler

Ciel: *sells soul*
Sebastian: Aww yeah, delicious depraved soul. This dinner is going to rock my world. It's going to be a cinch. Butlering's a cinch. Revenge? Easy as pie. Best deal I ever made.
Sebastian: *knows Ciel for 1 week*
Sebastian: I fucked up, I fucked up so hard. No soul is worth this aggravation.
"Mey Rin!" the gardener ran over to his fellow servant, jumping into her arms, tears streaming down his face. He was covered in scrapes and bruises, his shirt slightly signed. Pluto sat behind them looking innocent.
pluto-the-hound

"Finny! What’s happen—" one glance toward the dog—man—dog before them told the maid the most likely reason for her friend’s distress. "Oh, Finny!" She hugged the young male before turning to the culprit. "Bad, bad Pluto!"

Slightly OOC

((It is my crack-canon/is that an oxymoron?/ that Modern!Meyrin would be totally in love with the character of Dean Winchester. But she’d be afraid of watching his show.))

galaxypeen:

Why I’m A Feminist

((I love this. This. Just. Perfect. The last gif right there especially. Because many people even in, yes, this, the 21st century, still believe that feminism is the idea that women are better than men, and it makes them afraid and it makes them hate feminists. And they need to be educated, because if they knew what feminism really is, they would not be afraid and they would probably realize that they, too, are feminists. ))

A Strange New Place|Closed RP|@thephantomhivemaid

bardalicious:

thephantomhivemaid:

The woman had woken before the sunrise, as usual, to once again find herself in unexpected surroundings. It had been a few days, but she was not yet used to waking up in a comfortable bed, covered with a real blanket, in a real bedroom. She still had some trouble believing her luck. 

Which is why she never questioned why the butler seemed to be awake at all hours, or any of the other strange things she had been noticing since she started working at the Phantomhive manor as the housemaid, not the least of which was the fact that she was working for a ten year old boy whose life was threatened apparently quite a bit. But she had a worthy job now.

She was still getting used to the idea of being a housemaid. Though it was just a cover, Meyrin had been doing the best she could, as she had been instructed by the butler. Not that he even needed to ask. She was getting a very comfortable salary, with bonuses twice yearly, and all of her weapons would be paid for in full. And all for just doing the thing she was so good at. The steward, she had found was a nice old man who had been with the family for years. The butler was easy on the eyes. And the Young Master had given her a gift on her very first day!

She had nearly cried, she’d never received a gift before. She wore her glasses with pride, though she was a bit embarrassed at first. To her understanding, glasses were only worn by very important people or those who worked under very important people. What more could she ask for? 

That morning, the butler had announced that he needed her to remain in the kitchen after her usual night chores. There was something he needed to speak with her about. The maid had panicked. Was she not doing a good job? She had been trying her absolute best, but had already broken four plates in the short time she’d been there. She’d also tripped a few times and almost broken her glasses. To be honest, she was on edge much of the time. Even the butler had already talked to her about being careful. So she was worried she was about to be fired.

"I’ve hired a cook," the butler announced, relieving the maid entirely. "I will introduce him to you today. Please wait in the kitchen after your evening chores. And please be polite and get along. It would not do the Young Master any good if you two try to kill each other."

Meyrinhad wondered why he said that, then remembered how on edge she’d been. Also, she wondered whether this new cook was the same as her. She had waited that evening, as instructed, when Sebastian walked in with another man. 

For some reason she could not explain, she felt more anxious than usual. Perhaps she was just not used to being around that many males. It was true she didn’t know how to talk to them. She stood by as Sebastian showed the new male around the kitchen before turning to her.

"This is Meryin," he announced, "you two may get acquainted while I tend to the young master’s needs." 

With that, he left, and the maid simply stood in her corner. 

"Uh….the name’s Bardroy….." the man said. Meyrin looked around a bit behind her large glasses before mumbling. 

"Meyrin… a-as he said…" she glanced down in embarrassment at the redundancy, but just for a second. 

She truly did not know what to say and it was getting a bit awkward as she realized she’d been quiet for too long.

"Um… it’s nice to meet you." 

“‘right back at ya, L’il lady.” 

He had been told at a younger age that he was a bit rude and he didn’t know how to talk properly to anyone. That included women, especially since he never had a mother figure in his life and he wasn’t sure how to say anything without hurting one’s feeling.

What did Sebastian think he was doing leaving the two of them alone? He didn’t know what to talk to her about, and it seemed like she didn’t seem very comfortable either. After all, she was probably the only in the manor-she probably would have to ward off the men that worked here.

He wondered how many of them there would be, he heard that they planned on hiring a gardener as well. He was certain it would take more than two of them to defend the manor, well….three if they counted Sebastian-but he figured he was too busy tending the young master.

"So…." He started, starting to get a little nervous. When she looked at him expectantly he faltered, and decided on counting the tile on the floor. When did he get this….weird? He wasn’t used to feeling awkward, usually he blurted out what he wanted to say and if they didn’t like him for it-it was their problem. Not his.

"Well, it seems like you two are well acquainted,” Sebastian’s voice chimed in, followed by that they heard him clap once to get their attention; "if you two will follow me, I will introduce you to the last of the servants and show you what needs to be done. I would advise you not to have too much interaction with this one for a while, the gardener is quite strong." 

As they followed the butler, the chef became hyper-aware of where Meyrin was. How slow she was walking, how she carried herself-and how she was watching him just the same. It somehow unnerved him, like she was sizing him up or something.

He tried to ignore it. He had to work with her, he might as well push through his distrust and try to get along. 

This could prove to be difficult.

"So…." the new chef, Bardroy, started. Meyrin looked up expectantly, somehow more comfortable meeting his eyes from behind her glasses, knowing that he could not really see hers that well. It gave her a sense of anonymity which she embraced, especially since she did not know him that well. 

She thought he was going to say something, and saw him looking at the tile. To try to add to the conversation, or lack of, she was about to mention something about the tile, anything, how nice it was, or the detail they must have put in building the kitchen, and then the butler chimed in and asked them to follow.

Meyrin breathed somewhat easier. She was going to start talking about the tile? Really? She gave a barely perceptible shake of her head, toward herself and her own awkwardness. As they followed the butler she tried to walk a step behind the chef. She did not feel comfortable with people behind her. After all, a prey cannot be caught if it’s behind you. 

What was she thinking? She mentally slapped herself. This was a real job, she didn’t have to be so on guard all the time, so defensive. 

Still, she could not help but watch him closely. It was a habit, really. Despite appearing raggedy in looks, he carried himself with an air of discipline… stoic…

A soldier.

Rather than help her feel safer, she felt even more on guard. What would happen if they did not get along? Would it really get to the point where they’d try to kill each other? These soldier types usually had a sort of moral code, but what if he discovered her past? What if he decided she was not to be trusted because of it? 

Sebastian led them outside, which surprised Meyrin because it was dark. Why was this person kept waiting outside? She was prepared to come face to face with this “very strong” gardener, imagining a big, hulky, muscular man, perhaps with scars on his face. 

As they rounded the corner toward one of the gardens, the shadows created by the odd lighting made it appear as exactly that. As they walked closer however, the tall and wide shadow of a man diminished and they came face to face with…

one of the statues. 

The butler cleared his throat, and from behind the statue, out came a tender looking young lad, not much older than the Young Master himself. 

"This is Finnian, our gardener. Finnian, meet Meyrin and Bardroy."

Meyrin’s eyebrows shot up, then met in confusion, then shot up again, then she squinted her eyes, all within a fraction of a second. Her mouth hung open a little in confusion and shock, and all she could do was glance over at Bardroy. 

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