A cold sweat upon waking up is never pleasant. The room felt stuffy and warm, but Carmilla's skin felt clammy as she awoke from a restless sleep. The fire had long since burnt out, the ember a dying breed upon the hearth. All that was left were the ashes of a past flame, and the lingering smoke in her hair.

She sat up from the lumpy cushions, her back feeling frigid from the perspiration coating it. A pang through her skull had her sway as she sat taller on the couch, vision giving out momentarily. But as she sat up, something thunked to the floor. Begrudgingly, she squinted her eyes to see what had fallen, but was met with darkness. There was no window in sight to indicate what time of day it was, nor was there any sign of life in the house. Perhaps it was still night?

Remembering that there was a candle on the side table, she threw the wool blanket aside and stood to light it. Hopefully there were matches nearby. Once on her feet, she prodded about in the dark to the candlestick. Her eyes taking their time to adjust to the dark, giving her a semblance of her surroundings. As she stood corrected, the candelabra sat proudly on the table, but this time there was a brand new taper planted in the stand. Alongside a full box of matches, that’s convenient. She lit the candle, flames exploding from the match and onto the wick, letting light once again give shadow to the room.

“That’s better,” She hushed out, setting the torch back down. Seeing that something had changed on the table, her eye caught onto a dinner plate with a cooked slab of meat. It looked to still be warm, with the smell that wafted from it making it almost impossible to not investigate it. Suspiciously, she picked up the plate and brought it to her nose to give it another whiff. God, it’s been so long since she’s smelled something this good.

A groan left her lips as she sat down to devour the plate. Each bite nearly missing her teeth as she swallowed it impatiently. When was the last time she had something that wasn’t raw?

She continued to finish the food, then slowing down to savor the taste of the spices. The pleasant tang of cooking wine, and rosemary brought a wide grin to her lips. Before she knew it, she had every bite and juice licked clean from the platter, a satisfied fullness in her stomach. Putting her in a good mood.

Lady Beneviento must have made this as a part of her “vow”. If she kept going at this promise, there was no way Carmilla could stay weary of her.

Done with her meal, she sought out the next best thing to do. Since she was unsure what time of day it was, she thought to look around for a clock. She probably overstayed her welcome at this point.

Setting the plate back onto the maple surface, a corner of another letter poked her fingers. She furrowed a brow at the familiar wax seal shone in the minuscule candlelight. Peeling the seal off, she took out the parchment, noting the minimal words in this one.

Come find me…

That was it, no name. But it didn’t need one as Carmilla recognized the cursive. Don-don or more formally Lady Beneviento seemed to have some sort of old-fashioned way of communicating. Definitely something she was familiar with. But stalking around to find her? A part of her loved the idea of seeking out someone, that being the unfavorable side of her. Sickening really, though she was always the competitive type. She loved kids’ games, even till this day, though it mostly meant it had a gruesome ending. The past few decades was filled with those.

She slipped the note back into its pouch and shoved it into her back pocket. A sort of excitement bubbled in her stomach as she ventured out into the hall.

No matter what time of day, this place held an unsettling amount of quietude. How someone live in such silence with their sanity still intact seemed impossible.

To her left at the end of the hall was a small round window, the early morning light illuminating specks of dust in the air. Floorboards creaked under her feet as she stalked around the only corner to her right, the area ahead now more familiar. She wasted no time walking into the foyer, making haste to the front door. She grasped the handle as soon as she could reach the door, and tried tugging it open. But it didn’t budge. The handle stuck, but she tried again and to no avail.

She kicked the door, her chest growing hot with frustration. “Son of a bitch…”

“Don’t leave…” An airy voice said from behind her. Jolting in surprise, she whipped around to find no one but the Lolita doll from last night. An awkward moment stretching out as she watched it in trepidation. But it stood like a statue, its sapphire eyes boring into her.

With a hefty sigh she rested her back on the wood, indignation fizzling out. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Lady Beneviento seemed pretty keen on making things right. She guessed she should just have to indulge Lady Beneviento until she could leave. Kneeling down to the dolls level she tilted her head with an easy smile.

“Hello.” she said gently.

The girl puppet twitched before turning around and bolted away. Carmilla flinched from the sudden movement, but she stood up and followed. The doll stopped at the base of the stairs, turning her head to watch Carmilla catch up to her. With the confirmation of that, it continued up the stairs at an alarming speed.

Afraid that she would lose it, she picked up her pace, taking two steps at a time. Before they could reach the second flight of stairs, the doll paused, catching her slightly off guard and having her stumble to a stop. The blonde toy pointed to something on the wall, her eyes moving to a portrait. Confused, Carmilla looked to what the doll pointed at, examining the painting. She caught sight of a cleaner depiction of Angie. Her wedding dress was pristine with no yellow staining, her dead flower crown now full of life with color. White lace along the hems fresh and no longer frayed. But what caught Carmilla's breath was the woman Angie sat upon.

Three heartbeats passed before she could regain another thought.

The woman which took most of the painting had eyes that resembled that of fresh obsidian, a fire still burning within them. Her ashen hair framing marble skin, the rest pulled into a lazy bun. Strong arched brows lead to a straight bridged nose. A heavy gulp traveled down Carmilla's throat as her focus slipped to a soft cupid’s bow and full lips settled in a stoic smile. Her heart sped up as the visage of this woman brought an unwelcoming warmth in the pit of her stomach. The black dress she wore also caught her attention, it was the same dress Lady Beneviento wore.

“Is that…” She looked at the Lolita doll, her thumb pointing to the woman. “Is that Lady Beneviento?” She asked as she turned back to the portrait. The doll kept silent, watching at Carmilla slowly became more captivated. A sound of a floorboard creaking broke both Carmilla and the doll from their stalemate, the Lolita puppet scampering up the stairs in that single second.

“Hey! I asked you a question!” She yelled out.

Carmilla stumbled up the stairs after it, desperate to get some kind of answer. But in her fury of careening up the stairs to the doll, her foot missed its target resulting in an embarrassing slam to the floor and an injured shin. A curse slipped out, her hand going straight to the pulsing agony in her leg. Shakily she stood up, her focus on her feet as she dusted her pants. But as she looked up she came face to face with a black veil.

Spooked, she stepped back from the sudden presence of Lady Beneviento. The center of gravity pulling her down when she stepped back from the tall woman. But before she could become acquainted with the floor again, the woman caught her by the collar of her shirt. Lady Beneviento's pale knuckles cold as ice as they brushed against Carmilla's collarbone. She stood frozen in her spot, unable to voice a word as this dark ghost stood so close.

Lady Beneviento pulled back as soon as Carmilla was stable, pulling back swiftly as if the touch had burned her. Fists straining at her sides as they both stared at the other in awkward stillness.

“Thanks,” Carmilla said, clearing her throat. Her hand absentmindedly rubbed against her thigh, the nervousness evident in her shaky fidgeting. The Lady’s shoulders squared at the comment, but nodded in acknowledgment. Guess she wasn’t much of a talker? That should’ve been a surprise since she had already voiced herself yesterday. But those were threats. Carmilla's eyes looked over her shoulder, unable to look directly at her.

“You wanted me to find you?” She pushed through her social discomfort, her right hand fishing out the letter from her back pocket and held it out to her. All she got was a curt nod. Lady Beneviento's demeanor creating an overwhelming anxiety in her stomach.

Though as if the world had stalled in its counting of time, the tense air finally broke as she stood taller. She cracked her knuckles, the sound triggering through Carmilla. It could’ve been her way of intimidation or a nervous tick, either way it worked. Carmilla winced, her eyes now glued to the black veil. Something akin to fear sparked all through out her body, ending in her hands and feet.

Just how tall was this woman? The difference wasn’t by much. Carmilla herself wasn’t short, but standing beside her made her feel like a feral kitten with no other defense than to hiss. The veil made it harder to estimate where exactly she stood, but the fact that the Lady had to look down to meet her gaze meant that she was closer to the height of her chin.

Lady Beneviento brushed past her on the step, her pointer finger beckoning her to follow. She turned to her, hesitant to trail behind. “Where are we going?”

She was ignored as Lady Beneviento made her way down the stairs. The same smell of poppies and tea sifting through Carmilla's nose as she glided past. A pale hand delicately slid down the banister with a practiced grace. Careful to keep a modest space from her, she followed her back to the ground level of the entrance hall.

Once they reached the bottom, Lady Beneviento stepped aside for her. But Carmilla's not so elegant way of stepping down resulted in a sharp pain from her stomach, her feet losing their balance momentarily. The lady kept her hands modestly at her front, but yet she offered one out as she witnessed her stumbling.

“I’m good!” Carmilla defended, walking past her. To steady the rapid thumping in her chest, she meandered to the center table and rocking chair. The same embroidered piece lying undisturbed since the hours prior. White fabric with a splotch of now dried blood reminding her of the incident. Now at the table, she took the thin cloth between her fingers, fiddling with it the thin stitching.

The silence between the two was palpable enough to make Carmilla tense. The quietude too loud in her ears. She peeked over her shoulder to watch the lady still stand at the base of the stairs. The black veil titled, a sort of question in her movement. Carmilla cleared her throat, looking back down to the embroidery.

“I uhm, want to apologize about yesterday,” She said, glancing back over at the Lady. “About what I said, and well–breaking and entering–.”

The two found themselves in a standstill as Lady Beneviento still refused to speak. Carmilla's fingernail found the splotch of crimson, the nail scrubbing away at it in hurried motions. The blood flaked off and found itself between her thumbnail, a small tear in the cloth developing as she did so. “I didn’t mean any of this to happen, or meant anything I said…” Another moment of static tension. She turned back to the cloth, seeing that she had now just ruined it more. She set it down begrudgingly. She froze when the goosebumps on her neck rose.

The feeling of someone’s warm breath caressing against her shoulder blades caused her breath to hitch. Then came the sound of an unsteady breath reaching her ears. On reflex she turned around, expecting the Lady to be right behind her, but instead she stood at a door a good two yards away. Perplexed at the ghostly feeling of it all, Carmilla stared at her wide-eyed. Was she hallucinating?

“I take it that you don’t accept the apology?” She hushed out, her throat bobbing thickly. Things seemed to be a little more complex than anticipated. Especially on keeping good graces with the Lady. Her veil fluttered as she let out a breath then turned to the door and opened it. Deflated, Carmilla scaled the room and followed her into the next. The sting of rejection melding in her chest as they ventured into what looked like the living area and dining room in one.

In itself it was cozy, its hardwood floors covered in an abundant amount of rugs with a main table set off to the center right, and a hearth set on the back wall. To they’re left was a section secluded from the rest. A simple couch with a coffee table sat on black tile.

Carmilla followed Lady Beneviento to the couch and sat down with strained caution, her arms bracing her body slowly onto the cushions. If it weren’t for the fact that she was injured she would have felt more inclined to slump onto it with no regard. Now settled in, not caring that the leather on her back was deceivingly cold, she leaned her head back. Lady Beneviento sat on the other side, not hesitating to keep her distance, a blatant presentation of her weariness of Carmilla.

“So,” She looked at her expectantly. She led her here, there had to be something she wanted. Lady Beneviento perked up, her posture in a locked alertness. She let out a lengthy sigh, the air almost sounding like a word, but it was unperceivable to Carmilla. She just continued to eye her, waiting for anything to happen on her part. The Lady seemed to grow a bit frustrated, her head hanging low as her hands writhed anxiously on her lap. Carmilla shifted in her spot, her eyes shifting around the room. Then the sound of a throat clearing brought her attention back.

“T-tea?” A rasp of a voice said, the word sounding uncertain. It sounded so different compared to the solid hostility prior. It was dare she say a pleasant thing to hear. The image of the portrait flashed through her mind, giving her something to match behind that veil. The lady cleared her throat again, Carmilla's silence beginning to cause discomfort in the woman.

“Oh, ye-yes please,” She said after noticing the growing tension in her body language. “Thank you.” With that as her excuse to leave, Lady Beneviento shot from the couch and left with a polite nod.

A moment of silence had her mind brew up a storm, the anxieties of her current situation finally solidifying into reality. She had no idea what was to come of her after this encounter. Could she just continue on living in solitude?