After a final swallow of food she became sick of it. Maybe it was because of how desperate she was to eat that she didn’t realize the freezer burn aftertaste and the tang of rotting blood. The plastic wrung up in Carmilla's grasp as she closed it tight. Throwing the bag back into the freezer, her stomach now deciding whether to accept the food or not. The inside of her mouth grainy and a terrible flavor was left in the back of her throat.

“Could I get something to drink?” She asked Angie, making her way back to the center Island after putting the bag away. Angie stopped her mindless movement and perked up.

“You mean blood?” She snickered out, Carmilla gave her an annoyed look.

“I’m not a vampire, you varnished log.”

Angie rolled to her back as she cackled at the nickname, her hands planted firmly on her torso. “Oh that’s a good one!” She said as her laughter died out. “Well~ we have tea, coffee, water or milk.” She listed the options with her fingers, her head now dangling from the edge of her perch.

“Oh! Perhaps even wine if you wanna get frisky~” She finished off with a teasing laugh. Carmilla winced at the comment, the embarrassment evident in the warmth of her cheeks.

“Just water.”

Angie took her sweet time to stop her incessant giggling. She then rolled upright on the table and wiped a fake tear from her eye.

“The cups are just above the sink,” She pointed to a cupboard with her thin finger. Carmilla followed her directions with a silent thanks, and took a cup.

Once she finished her glass, the exhaustion now making her limbs shaky. With a weary yawn, Carmilla set the cup into the sink.

“You’re pretty worn out,” Angie said as she jumped from the surface and waddled up to her. Pants beings tugged as Angie guided her out the kitchen. “Now that you’re fed and bandaged you’re welcome to sleep on the sofa tonight.”

Carmilla nodded half-asleep, eager to lay down and get today over with.

“But you have to leave first thing in the morning…” Angie added on, seeming a bit dejected. Carmilla nodded, biting back the sting in her chest. A bit of rejection in her stomach at the thought of going back to her old life.

They get back to the lounge, the fire still burning strong. But as Carmilla stepped in, she could smell that the entire air shifted. It had been replaced with a more pleasant smell than before. She dragged her feet to the sofa, the indescribable scent becoming more potent as she sat down. Angie plopped next to her and held out a pristine envelope, a shimmery black seal melted onto it. Carmilla held her hand out to Angie, the stiff envelope set in her palm.

“What is this?” She asked, bringing the letter closer to examine the seal. An image of a moon and a sun shared half of a lopsided square, the image burning its place in her mind.

“It’s from Don-Don, she wants you to read it before you leave,” Angie said as she slid off the couch and swiped away at her dress.

“But why?” Carmilla began to tear open the letter, that same smell now attacking her nostrils at full-force. It smelled of poppies, blue spruce and… some sort of tea?

Angie just shrugged. “I’ll leave ya to it,” She chided out and then left. But before she could leave the room, Carmilla stopped her, remembered just how exposed she was. Her torn shirt just scraps, leaving her torso quite exposed. The only thing covering her being her modest bra and the bandages.

“Wait!”

The doll stopped before she could round the corner, “Have a spare shirt I could borrow?” Carmilla asked. Angie tilted her head before peering down the hallway to her right, then back to her.

“Don’t worry Trespasser, I gotchu!” She said with a chirp then skipped out of the room. A small smile stretched Carmilla's lips, Angie’s little mannerisms beginning to waken something deep down in her. Sure she could be brash, but her liveliness was something akin to warmth compared to Carmilla's frigid nature. It was nice having someone like Angie, even if she was a sentient doll.

Unable to think much more about that, the sound of little feet pattering against the floors distracted her thoughts. A little doll tip-toed from around the couch, its painted smile directed at her as it neared closer. Her feet shot up from the floor, arms hugging her tightly to protect herself from the little devil, but nothing happened.

She watched it carefully, the toy puppet standing quietly as it held its arms out. Along its arms was a shirt that draped down, its black silken fabric shiny in the firelight. Shyly unwrapping herself from my cowardly bunch of limbs, she reached for the shirt, shaking her head to the doll with a thanks coming from her lips. Pulling the shirt on gently, and careful to not brush against her torso, she buttoned it up hastily.

She gave the doll another glance, now taking in all its ornate details. It was a stunning Lolita doll, her glamorous dress covered in frills and laces. Stitches of divine details adorned the doll in royal blues, her ringlet gold hair falling onto her shoulders like a waterfall of glitter. On top of her head was a matching bonnet, silver lace falling down to resemble a veil. On the rim of her hat was a whole cultivation of flowers, each and every one of them placed carefully and thoughtfully. Her eyes matched everything, rich sapphire watching Carmilla as she admired the doll. Her lips stretched in a smile, adoration in her eyes. Her younger self would have fought tooth and nail for the doll.

Whomever designed this doll needed a trophy for their craftsmanship. So much care and thought showed in all the puppets she’s encountered so far. There was no doubt that whoever made them had a strong passion in every project.

‘Did Don-Don make these?’ It would make the most sense, since she was the only other person here it seemed.

The lavish doll tapped on Carmilla's knee, the porcelain hand setting the forgotten letter onto her lap. She thanked her by patting her softly on the head. The doll seemed to enjoy that as she jumped in place and gave Carmilla her best pirouette. Smiling gleefully she clapped at the dolls little performance, curtsying with precise execution. Then moving back to give Carmilla space to read the letter. She looked back to her lap and fished out the parchment from the envelope. Inside was perfect writing, almost too flawless for her tired brain.

“To whomever you are,

Please forgive my onslaught towards you. You’re a guest of my home, and I have not treated you as such. I am the host and I must act like it. I will make it up to you, that is my vow.

Lady Beneviento

A shiver ran down her shoulders as she read the last words. Lady Beneviento.

She must be of some importance if she was considered a Lady. Carmilla settled further back into the couch, her eyes becoming heavy as the strike of exhaustion became too much.

This woman was willing to go out of her way to apologize to her intruder? Either she was just kind like that, or something else had her feel obligated to do so. She glanced at the letter once more. “That is my vow.” Why make a promise with such little time? What could she possibly do by morning? She sighed and rubbed her eyes, her thoughts beginning to wear her out more.

Another shudder ran down her shoulders, feeling more like a breath than anything. Then came the rustle of clothing. She pivoted to catch the sight of the culprit, but the room was empty, just her own long shadow dancing along dull walls. A crackle from the mantle had her flinch, her ears heightened to every minuscule sound. Rustling of a page turning caught her attention, again there was no perpetrator when she shot her head to the book on the side table.

As if possessed dolls and a mysteriously veiled woman wasn’t enough, now ghosts? She began to second guess her chances here. But where else had a warm fire and a semi-comfortable place to sleep? This mansion definitely beat the wilderness full of Lycan. As soon as the sun comes up, Carmilla will be out of here. It’s better that way, lest she become used to the life of comfort.

Finally with the softness of sleep, she fell into one of the throw pillows, allowing the slumber to shut her eyes. Her last moments of consciousness barely catching the dark figure throwing a blanket onto her.