( who wants to die, really? well, actually, Carmilla has a rather complicated outlook on her afterlife at this point. she'd been willing to die to save Laura. honestly hadn't been that frightened by the prospect. she'd lived long enough, hadn't she? seen the most beautiful things the world had to offer and further still, the ugliest darkest things she wished she could forget. darkness around her and the darkness inside of her, hard to say what ate away at her most.
that said, while she'd been at peace with it, she didn't want to die for no reason either. she'd fought too hard, too long, too viciously, to just throw in the towel because it was easy. it made all of that fighting to survive a waste. it was almost a petulant refusal to give in and just let herself die — it'd surely be easier. she probably wouldn't be happy dead but she also wouldn't have to feel much of anything, and that's almost tempting in and of itself when she's used to feeling so eternally shitty.
she doesn't particularly feel like death would be better than the life she has now, though. she's not under the influence of Maman, whose temper could snap quicker and harder than a whip. she can do whatever she wants, and not do whatever she wants, which is truthfully the more important stipulation. Mother never did care what she did, as long as it didn't make a mess she'd have to clean up. it was more a matter of not doing what she was supposed to that always got her in trouble. until her loving, doting mother crawled back from apparent death and managed to pluck her back through space-time, why not enjoy herself here? the robots could only gently suggest she do what they wanted, and Carmilla only sometimes bothers.
much better than being trapped in a coffin of blood for decades for having the audacity to fall for a mark.
so she drags Caroline back towards the bonfire, intent on nothing but enjoying themselves. a long time ago she used to enjoy being undead, swanning around the streets of Paris with Mattie. feeling beautiful and limitless and on the cusp of a breath, like the still in the air before the start of a romantic play or an equisite poem. it took a good few decades to understand it wasn't the breathless moment before something beautiful, more like the still-lunged terror before a bloodied, desperate scream. maybe her world is black and bleak but that doesn't mean Caroline's has to be.
it seems Carmilla is not the only one who is accidentally sexual. she can't help but laugh at the offer, though she's well aware Caroline didn't mean it that way. ) Just in one of those red solo cups is fine. ( she agrees, teasing a little but not with any bite or heat. )
tw: casual suicide talk, sire stuff, woosh
that said, while she'd been at peace with it, she didn't want to die for no reason either. she'd fought too hard, too long, too viciously, to just throw in the towel because it was easy. it made all of that fighting to survive a waste. it was almost a petulant refusal to give in and just let herself die — it'd surely be easier. she probably wouldn't be happy dead but she also wouldn't have to feel much of anything, and that's almost tempting in and of itself when she's used to feeling so eternally shitty.
she doesn't particularly feel like death would be better than the life she has now, though. she's not under the influence of Maman, whose temper could snap quicker and harder than a whip. she can do whatever she wants, and not do whatever she wants, which is truthfully the more important stipulation. Mother never did care what she did, as long as it didn't make a mess she'd have to clean up. it was more a matter of not doing what she was supposed to that always got her in trouble. until her loving, doting mother crawled back from apparent death and managed to pluck her back through space-time, why not enjoy herself here? the robots could only gently suggest she do what they wanted, and Carmilla only sometimes bothers.
much better than being trapped in a coffin of blood for decades for having the audacity to fall for a mark.
so she drags Caroline back towards the bonfire, intent on nothing but enjoying themselves. a long time ago she used to enjoy being undead, swanning around the streets of Paris with Mattie. feeling beautiful and limitless and on the cusp of a breath, like the still in the air before the start of a romantic play or an equisite poem. it took a good few decades to understand it wasn't the breathless moment before something beautiful, more like the still-lunged terror before a bloodied, desperate scream. maybe her world is black and bleak but that doesn't mean Caroline's has to be.
it seems Carmilla is not the only one who is accidentally sexual. she can't help but laugh at the offer, though she's well aware Caroline didn't mean it that way. ) Just in one of those red solo cups is fine. ( she agrees, teasing a little but not with any bite or heat. )