Author's Note: This is my first fanfic, so, constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. If you think I should continue this story, I'll consider it, otherwise this will be a one-shot.
I do not own Kuroshitsuji, or any of it's characters. Kuroshitsuji is property of Yana Toboso. The only thing I own, is my OC Euphemia.
BTW: The italicized quotations are my OC's personal thoughts; they aren't said aloud.
My name is Euphemia, and I am seventeen years old. I have curly, ginger-coloured hair, and I am of an average height, but I look taller because I am rather thin. I live in London, and lately, there has been a string of gruesome murders occurring in the area. A number of women, particularly prostitutes, have been found horrifically butchered, or so I've heard. Thank providence I am not one of them.
Though, I could easily have ended up as one of them, had I not turned to the calling of petty thievery. I currently reside on the streets of London, I am a rather good pickpocket, though, lately I haven't had much luck, as the townsfolk have been increasingly avoiding being out in the streets, due to the recent uptick in murders, but I'm not scared, I have better things to worry myself with, like finding something to eat. I haven't eaten in a week, and I am absolutely famished. I would do nearly anything for even a piece of stale bread.
I wander aimlessly through the streets for hours, and I find myself in a very dark alleyway. I notice that it is nearly dusk, from the sliver of dreary, polluted sky that I can see, high above the eaves of the dirty buildings. I won't be able to get back to the place I usually set up camp for the night. I see a few broken crates piled up beside a building, and decide to sleep there for the night. After a little while, I have managed to create a haphazard lean-to sort of structure, to shelter me from the elements, namely rain, as there more than likely be one of London s downpours tonight.
By now, the sky is a murky dark-grey colour, so I decide to try and get some sleep. I crawl into my crate-structure, and try to get as comfortable as I can, but I have no blanket to cushion me, and my slim, bony hips will surely have a bruise from laying on the hard, uneven surface. But I am simply too exhausted to care, so I do my best to ignore my discomfort, and drift into a dreamless slumber.
No...NO...STAY AWAY...STOP!
*BANG*
I am startled awake by the sound of a woman screaming, and a gun being fired. The sounds came from nearby. Very nearby. And since I do in fact value my life, I decide that it was indeed a mistake to sleep in this alleyway tonight. So, I, as silently as I can, crawl out of my little lean-to, and slink my way out of the alley, out into the street. As soon as I am out of the alley, I make a mad dash through the streets, as to get away from there as fast as my weary body can manage.
I must not have been paying much attention to where I was going, because I run into, and I mean literally run into, a large, darkly shrouded figure, making its way down the street. I run into the person with such force, that I knock both of us to the cobblestone with a noticeable thud.
The dark-cloaked person grunts and mumbles a few choice words before they notice me. "My my, you are in quite the hurry, now aren't you?" Says the mystery man. "You really should pay better attention to where you re going, Miss. What on earth has you running so hastily?"
I hear thunder rumble in the distance. "Damn, I m going to have to find shelter before it starts raining." The dark-cloaked man gets to his feet and dusts off his robes. His attire is rather peculiar, he wears a long, black coat, with a grey sash tied over one shoulder. On his head, askew, sits a tall black hat with a long fabric tail, trailing from the top. He has very long, silvery hair, with bangs covering the top half of his face, parted slightly, over his nose. I notice a single, thin braid mixed into the length of his silver hair.
"Oh! I'm terribly sorry sir, I should have looked where I was going." I manage to squeak out. "I really must be out of sorts, I'm usually far more observant. This hunger must really be doing a number on me." I think to myself.
"What is a young lady, such as yourself, doing out so late at night in this part of the city? You must know it isn't safe to be out at this hour." The man says this with a wide and creepy grin.
"I was in an alley, when I heard a gunshot go off near me, so I decided to make a run for it, and then I ran into you."
"Ah, I see." He said. "Well, my dear, might I ask what your name is?"
"Oh, sorry, my is Euphemia."
"Euphemia, eh? That's a mighty fancy name for a girl livin' on the streets."
"It is simply the name my mother gave me, sir."
"Its a lovely name, it means 'well-spoken', does it not?"
"Yes sir, it does mean that." I reply meekly. "If you don't mind me asking, sir, what is your name?"
"Most people call me Undertaker." He says, with a singsong lilt.
"Undertaker? As in a mortician?" "What a curious name." I think. "Surely that isn't his given name."
"Yes dearie, I am indeed a mortician, one of the finest in England, if I do say so myself." He says with a chuckle.
I hear more thunder, and it sounds like it's getting closer. The wind is starting to pick up as well.
"Well, it looks like we're in for a right downpour, Miss Euphemia. Why don't we get down to my shop before either of us are caught up in this impending storm, eh?"
The wind was starting to howl, and fat raindrops were starting to pelt the top of my head. "Alright, Mr. Undertaker, if it's not too much trouble." I hear a hungry, grumbling noise come from my stomach, and my cheeks flush in embarrassment. The strange mortician giggles at the sound, and we start walking in the direction of his funeral parlour.
"Oh, it's no trouble at all. I haven't had any living guests in a long while," He says this with a grin plastered on his face. "and you don't have anywhere else to go, now do you?" I shake my head, no, and then he says, "Why don't I fix us somethin' to eat, you look like you're absolutely starved, my dear girl."
When we finally make it to Mr. Undertaker's funeral parlour, both of us are positively drenched from walking in the rain. He unlocks the front door, and ushers me inside. I am greeted with the sight of a very, very dusty room. The room's floor is littered with coffins of all sizes and colours, some coffins are even standing upright against the walls. There is a noticeably thick layer of dust on nearly everything, but the coffins, I notice, are polished to perfection. "I can see where His priorities lie. This place needs a good cleaning, that's for sure." I muse.
"Now, my dear, I suppose we ought to get you out of those sopping wet clothes of yours. You're leaving a puddle of rainwater on my floor." He says, with a chuckle. I must have had a peculiar expression on my face, because he promptly bursts out in a fit of giggles. "Don't worry dear, I'll fetch you some dry clothes to change into." I nod hesitantly, and he disappears into the back room, only to return moments later with a towel and a stack of folded clothing. He hands me the blanket and clothing, and says, "I hope these fit you, you can get changed in here, while I fix us somethin' to eat in the kitchen." He then vanishes into the back room once again, leaving me alone in the room with all of the coffins.
I set the stack of clothing on a nearby coffin, hoping there isn't a body inside. I unfold the clothing, revealing an off-white blouse, a chemise, pantaloons, a corset, a pair of stockings, and a long, burgundy plaid skirt. I peel off my soaked clothing and drop it into a tin pail nearby, then I proceed to dry off with the provided towel. I then put on the stockings, proceeded by the pantaloons and chemise. Next to be put on is the corset, which I struggle with for a few minuets, finally getting it tightened and tied to my satisfaction. After that, I put on, and button up the blouse and skirt. I sigh, "I haven't worn anything this nice in a long time." I muse to myself.
With seemingly perfect timing, Mr. Undertaker walks back into the front room, and says, "Dinner's ready, my dear." with a grin, he adds, "If you would follow me to the kitchen."
