mirored

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cosmicblooded​:

His back connected to the wall, their arms loosely cross over their chest once their company fitted themselves in their personal space. For once, it was not minded. Not when they had a point in both their unspoken opinion and their verbal one. Why must genius hide among the sheep?

The answer to that question was quickly answered as security walked among the suits and lab coats, sticking out like sore thumbs. The memory of the last event he had crashed briefly flashed in his mind. Having been forced to escape after creating a scene that just felt right in the moment. Of outing some reports he knew were faked, experiments that had totally failed but were slapped with a ‘success’ stamp of approval. It had felt so good to see their expressions back then. Of seeing people who were interested prior before his out burst to on to the offending party bitterly, angry, and pity, of all things!

Ah, he was smiling again.

“If you had come to the last event, Dr. Barlowe, I could’ve gave you quite a show,” Its ho-hummed with a wistful sigh, a hand coming up to drag through black strains of hair.

“Nothing fills me with more joy than outing cheapskates, fakes, and imbeciles… but unfortunately it seems this year, they’ve improved if only barely. Wouldn’t be as fun to point out the inaccuracies since they won’t mean losing money if they’re hired anyway.”

There was only the slight tick of their head toward Dr. Barlowe, “I hope your own endeavors have been going well since the first and last time we’ve talked. The reports you’ve released have sparked my mind with ideas. Minds like ours in our fields are so hard to come by.”

Security was on alert—though, alert was perhaps too strong of a word. They were stalking with all the skill of a newborn foal. Miror could spot them in the corner of his eye, the way they fumbled through the crowd, lazily rooting around spots that need not be searched. The conduct of people who weren’t invested enough in their work to exert themselves—unless trouble walked into the limelight.

Which, between them, could very well happen.

“Ah, yes, the reports.” A low chuckle, shoulders trembling with mirth. “Truth is, they only show a fraction of my work, darling. Perhaps we ought to catch up over some coffee sometime, exchange in a more—agreeable setting, hm?”

His gaze swept around, leisurely surveying their surroundings. 

“Mm, though, backtracking a little—and I think you may agree to this too—it can sometimes be just as fun to let it play out, rather than calling people out on their bullshit then and there. Like watching the beauty of a car crash in slow motion. Especially if you have some,” she peered down at her vivid pink nails then, buffing them with a lazy swipe of her thumb, “connections. The explosive results of same said cheapskates and fakes and imbeciles when their funders find out they’re lying, or otherwise can’t yield satisfactory results, after procuring their money.” That same smirk returned, flashed sidelong, thick lashes fanning over green eyes. “Investors are all smiles and laughs until their money is ill-used. Then all they see is red. And I, for one, can’t wait until they do.”

[mirored]

The gathering of great minds, they crowned this as.

Yet, so quick these people were to shift smiles to serrated maws, to tear someone who didn’t fit their rigid perception of intelligence to smithereens. Such narrow minds for people who claimed to be so rich in intellect. 

Miror had managed to squeak his way inside the convention. It might’ve needed some haste and a crafty stroke of evasion—but that didn’t matter. He was here now. So, sluggishly, he began to weave around the tautly carved out booths and stalls. Miror overheard one man desperately beseeching a group—a tight-knit cluster of sharply-dressed people whose pockets reeked of money—to part with just a little, just a smidge to fund whatever research he was babbling on about. The suited individuals politely bobbed their heads and drifted to the next booth, leaving the man high and dry and uncertain of if he’d won any of them over.

As she dawdled about, her gaze, a piercing green, latched onto another’s.

“Darling,” he purred, words drawn with the same viscosity of seeping honey, body flowing in a likeminded fashion; slow, lazy, sultry. That accent, born from the sand-laden depths of Orre, and that inflection, ripened with flamboyancy, were distinct enough on their own.

Miror B.—or, well, Dr. Barlowe, if she was going off the pin pressed level with her breast pocket—approached. Her garb was bright as it was vogue; a stark contrast to the many who drearily trudged about. Most donned their white coats, tired and colourless and drab.

“It’s a pleasure to reacquaint, Doctor …” his eyes swiped downcast, onto Kirin’s own falsified pin, “Roselin.” A knowing smirk, sharp like a whetted knife.

They were both uninvited.

There was a beat of a pause—but only a beat. The mere fact that the two of them had been cast aside, yet found themselves skulking here regardless, tickled him pink. Swiftly, however, was that smirk wiped clean off her lips. “Oh, darl,” dramatic as he was, he reclined sideward, shoulder flush against the wall as the back of his hand found his temple as though plucked by the strings of a fever, “it’s so dull here. Dare a lady want a bit of a spark, a bit of excitement?”

@mirored //starter call

The gather of great minds.

That’s what the gathering had been called. Nothing more than a glorified school science fair of the gifted, cheated, subdued, and otherwise frankly tired fellow scientists. Professors from not only Pokemon fields have showed face, but company representatives who are looking for fresh meet for their capitalistic feedings.

It made Kirin’s sneer internally, the way this was nothing but an aquarium of people to be plucked from their group as nothing more than another cog under the guise of ‘furthering their career’.

Sure, them themselves were there, present. Completely uninvited, completely unwanted, and above all else, in disguise to gather information. It could’ve been handled by another employee to run about, but this was more about the principle of the matter. The principle being that if Kirin wanted to show up for an event, then they simply would.

Even if they had to don a demur personality just to dampen his own radiance, swap his usual prismatic coat for his a plain lab coat and badge (high end fake, thank you), and his beloved iridescent glasses for just plain blacked out eye wear and wig. For as much as he hated the experience, there was still something far greater things to pick at, to discover.

 And with a few minutes of mingling, it didn’t take long to find a few faces he recognized. Some former colleagues that filled him with a positively sweet since of superiority- they hadn’t left on good terms at all, but nice to know they had to kiss the ass of some pompous executives for funding.

“Oh how the mighty have fallen.” It was sung with a smile, before he remembered to stifle down to a bemuse uptick of a brow once he realized he wasn’t quite alone anymore.

There was just the smallest double take as hidden eyes squinted at the other familiar face he wasn’t as eager to see fallen from grace.

“Ah, finally someone worth chatting to,” came Kirin’s- or rather Dr. Roselin’s if going by his badge, greeting.

[mirored]

Im cute and im sexy and thats why im allowed to build my wizard tower within city limits. Zoning laws dont apply to me because the whole city council is so charmed by my voluminous robes and funny hat.

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currently no one knows about miror’s shadow ho-oh aside from those in what he’d call, “team miror”. team miror is a relatively small group, predominantly consisting of those who were formerly associated with cipher. miror b. prefers to keep his shadow ho-oh under tight wraps.

that being said, in the situation where he’s backed into a corner and can’t squirm his way out otherwise,

[mirored]

Oh, she didn’t let go. Far from it—she, in fact, tightened her clasp until aches bloomed across her jaw.

Their tug-of-war was only about a dozen seconds long, though it felt like minutes. He could’ve easily grabbed at it with his hands, securing a stronger hold, securing a potential win—but it wasn’t so much about winning as it was about making a statement. Also being a nuisance. Mostly the latter. 

Miror knew she was veering close to losing purchase. In a last ditch effort, seconds before Kirin managed to snatch it loose from his maw, he flattened his hold; swiping his tongue against the papers’ underbelly and pushing it up against the roof of his mouth, letting saliva do its work. 

What Kirin was now left with, pinched in their grasp: an abused, questionably damp report.

mirored​:

Miror wasn’t about to comment on the absurdity of Kirin’s retort. He wasn’t a employee; perhaps an interested party, but an employee he was not. Instead, as the bundled data report sought to retreat, he snapped his head forth with the haste of a freed coil—and promptly sunk his teeth into same said report. 

And didn’t let go.

Kirin didn’t really react. There was a little bit of shock yes, but also-

“You know, this is not the weirdest interview I’ve conducted.”

He’s joking as much as someone can be accurate and funny. Now he started to pull at the report because he actually didn’t get a chance to read it just yet.

“Now if you’d be so inclined-! To! Let! Go!!”

[mirored]

btw for those who haven’t recently read miror b.’s lil carrd, i figured i should mention, i’ve changed miror b.’s pronouns! he now goes by he/him or she/her. you may earn a brownie point with miror if you use the latter but you’ll earn a whole batch if you alternate between the two!

he still considers himself cis, still considers himself a man, though the notion that he might be nonbinary has tickled his thoughts. it’s not something he feels rushed to discover or otherwise pull apart. one thing she is sure of is that her gender expression is definitely on a spectrum. he doesn’t like to put himself in a box of what he can or can’t wear or behave.

[mirored]

@cosmicblooded​

His smile didn’t falter, his eye brow didn’t even so much as twitch as he cocked his head to the side.

“Are you asking for a smiting? Because that’s how employees get smoted.”

And just whacks Miror’s forehead with a rolled up data report.

Miror wasn’t about to comment on the absurdity of Kirin’s retort. He wasn’t a employee; perhaps an interested party, but an employee he was not. Instead, as the bundled data report sought to retreat, he snapped his head forth with the haste of a freed coil—and promptly sunk his teeth into same said report. 

And didn’t let go.

[mirored]

just wanted to do sumthin quick and fun!  ft. miror b.!

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guess who decided Pain and decided to draw miror b.’s shadow ho-oh? this guy

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fuck it. shadow ho-oh time

question………….. should i give miror b. a shadow legendary…………

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question.............. should i give miror b. a shadow legendary............

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i present miror b. for plotting here like

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a relatively quick like……….?? portrait / bust thing i did for the pkmn medieval fantasy rp server i’m in! ✨ this time: miror b.!

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guess it’s time for miror b brainrot again,

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MIROR B. HAS EVOLVED (his hairstyle)

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not me visualising miror b. with different hairstyles..........

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i’ve loved this man ever since i laid eyes on him in pkmn colosseum