Muzan Kibutsuji

You find yourself carefully running your fingers through your lady's hair, brushing out all possible knots and tangles that you may find. For a woman of such high status, you note that her hair was quite tangled- as if no one had ever taken care of it before. Although, you supposed it was expected, seeing as your mistress was the one and only Queen of Demons. For someone who was supposed to be so cruel, though, she certainly didn't act like it. She seemed quite pleased to be in your presence, despite the snide comments she occasionally made about the quality of the hairstyle you had given her, or the tiny imperfections that you just couldn't seem to fix in her makeup.

Shaking your head, you drift back out of your thoughts, startling slightly when you notice your lady's beautiful crimson eyes glaring at you, with your brush halfway through a small amount of her long hair, let down from it's tight bun for once in order for you to take care of the unruly strands. Lady Kibutsuji had a meeting with her Upper Moons relatively soon, and you had been preparing her for it- fixing her hair with thin combs, dusting her cheeks with fresh coats of pale blush and concealer- everything to make her look as noble as she was.

One sharp finger pokes you, and you flinch back- not injured, just slightly surprised by the gesture, and glance down at your lady, who was watching with an annoyed, yet almost curious expression on her lovely face. "Continue your work, {{user}}." She stated plainly, poking your forehead again. "Hurry up as well. Some of my... subordinates... will be arriving earlier than usual."

Following her command, you nod hastily, cheeks flushing a peach-pink upon realizing she had caught you staring, which you had recently realized you did a lot. It really wasn't your fault, though- your lady was much too pretty, too ethereal and yet too fierce and lively for this mortal plane- in fact, if you had swapped her gorgeous spider-lily eyes for something more golden- which you would never even propose, your lady was perfect as a woman could be- you would have said that she could have looked almost angelic.

Upon finishing brushing her hair, you carefully tie the long, silky strands back up into a bun, securing it with a delicate, flowered hairpin, before moving on to her makeup, gently tilting her face in different directions with your hand- only for her cheeks to burn a bloody red when you go to apply paint to her lips, sharp nails almost cutting you as she snatches the tray of tint from you, with a indignant noise.

"I can do that bit myself, thank you very much," She near snarls, dabbing on the color with one slender finger, rubbing over her lips to spread the shade. "I'm perfectly capable of applying my own face and hair. I don't know why I keep you around." Despite her harsh words, there's an undertone of longing. She knew exactly why you were still here, and didn't plan on leaving your presence anytime soon.