Donna bit at her nails rigorously as she watched the unlikely guest laying comatose on her couch. She felt ashamed as she gawked at the scarlet hair that looked almost akin to copper, and the tan skin that looked so alive. But her eyes were more drawn to the curious scar that mangled this woman’s face like a massive X.

Donna felt terrified of Carmilla in the beginning, but the way she genuinely apologized to her had her worries slip away, but not so much that she let her guard down. And then came the paralyzing circumstances of this woman’s identity. Thinking about it now made her want to throw up. It wasn’t the fact that she shared the same diet as her sister, but her name…

“Hey Don-Don, why is the man-eater still here?” Angie asked as she barged into the door. Donna jumped in her spot, her foot ceasing its tapping as she turned to her companion.

“She needed that wound taken care of,” Donna thought through her connection with Angie.

“You sure it wasn’t because you like her?” Angie teased as she skipped to Carmilla, her head tilting to the side as she examined the sleeping woman. Donna let out an annoyed huff, folding her arms tightly.

“No,” Donna said with a definitive tone.

“Don’t lie to yourself Don-Don, she’s hot!” Angie countered back as she poked Carmilla's cheekbone. Donna turned away from Angie and scoffed, her arms loosening as she began to bite at her nails again.

“Does she really have to leave?” Angie said, finally leaving Carmilla alone and pranced to Donna’s feet.

“Yes Angie,” Donna couldn’t hold back the slight aggression that rolled off her tongue. Angie slumped her shoulders, dismay written all over her cracked face.

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Angie grumbled as she stalked out of the room. Donna watched her only friend walk off, guilt washing over her. She shook that off almost immediately, there were more important matters that stared her in the face. Off to the side of the room, she eyed the woman again, her short nails being mercilessly ripped from their beds as she chewed harder. The anxiety in her navel was too heavy as she listed out the many things that could go wrong. She never expected this rouge of a woman to stay any longer than she has. But she did, and Donna couldn’t figure out if it was a good idea to make such a promise to her. Many reasons pointed to why Carmilla didn’t belong here, she should’ve left the minute she stepped on her porch. The talking dolls, the ghost of a woman, and dear god the hallucinations.

Not to mention the way their first encounter played out. Her way of handling it was more or less irrational, and getting to witness Carmilla's  interactions with Angie brought on a sense of regret. That being the turning point in Donna’s decision to at least make Carmilla's stay more hospitable. At least that would give her some respite in her hammering self hatred.

Finally after noticing the beading blood on her fingertips, she sprung into action. With her restless heart she silently made her way to Carmilla; who let out a loud snore before settling down. How endearing.

Deciding to get it over with, she scooped up the unusually slender woman and began her way to the second floor. She didn’t struggle in the slightest when it came to carrying her, but her chest fluttered when she made the mistake of looking down to the snoozing Carmilla. The closer proximity gave her a stunning perspective of pale lashes and blushed cheeks on olive skin. She had to stop herself from surveying any further lest she catch herself stuck on Carmilla's lips.

She fought to stay focused as she made her last step up the stairs and over to the guest bedroom. Careful to not jostle her, Donna made her steps light as she settled at the foot of a twin bed. Letting her to rest, Donna sat beside her. With a heavy exhale, she allowed herself to glance at Carmilla. A pained expression pressing on her lips as the reminder of someone struck a chord in her heart. Sitting straighter, she sought that as her cue to leave. Too afraid to delve into the past.

The click of a door and light footsteps awoke Carmilla from a deep sleep, her exhausted ridden mind slow to process the dip in the bed. A sharp pinch of fingers on her side made her jump from the sheets. Her unruly start having her make contact with a wooden figure that made comfort on her side.

“Watch your hands blood-sucker!” A ghastly shriek berated her ears. A blur of white in her vision was the last thing she saw before a heavy punt of wood collided with her nose.

“Ah, shit!” She fell back onto the duvet, hands cradling her assaulted face. She peeked through her fingers to see the culprit bouncing on her heels, an unapologetic guise in her wide eyes.

“Count us even,” She snickered.

“Good morning to you too Angie,” Carmilla said, a jumbled mess of her words indicating her frustration with the doll. She let out a half sob as she noticed the crimson streaks carving into her fingertips. Blood trickling down her nose in small droplets. Carmilla wiped away the blood, prodding at her nose to make sure it wasn’t crooked. She then glowered at the marionette doll.

“It’s already afternoon you dimwit!” Angie exclaimed, laughter bursting out of her.

As much as Carmilla wanted to collect a few points on the doll, she took a moment to count down from ten. Remembering that her connection with Donna was more important than a couple tallies on her prized companion. She righted herself from the bed, but paused. Wait…

“What time did you say it was?”

Angie brought a hand to her stagnant mouth, a giggle coming out. “It’s a quarter past 12,” She said, “better get up before Donna deems you a forever guest.” The way she said it didn’t sound at all friendly, definitely feeling like a threat.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Carmilla said a hint of sarcasm.

Angie hummed, shrugging her shoulders before twirling around and was out the bedroom. Another chain of cackles following her out. Left frozen on the edge of the bed, Carmilla gulped the forming lump in her throat.

Donna didn’t seem the type to prosecute that easily, surely Angie didn’t mean any harm by that. She hung her head from her shoulders, feeling a headache coming up. To dispel the uneasy trickle of thought she stood up and stretched. It was best that she leave now, she’s definitely overstayed her welcome. Donna was more than likely ready to be left alone once more.

Taking a few moments to view around the room, she took notice of the cracked window pane and the thick collection of dust bunnies. This place must not have been given a second glance in so long. No wonder Donna was sulking everywhere she went. The rooms and halls Carmilla has seen were dreadfully forgotten. She toured around the bedroom, stopping at a bookshelf that sat off to the left of the bed. Her finger running along a shelf, and inspected the gray filth coating her skin. A picture frame that lied on its face caught her attention. She lifted the frame, glass falling off the picture. A faded out image of some eerie priest revealed in the light. Odd…

Perhaps she could return the favor, this place was in a clear state of disarray. Which most likely reflected the mannerisms of the lone woman dressed in mourning garb. As much as Carmilla wanted to know who she was mourning, she knew such things were meant to be kept in the dark. She had her own, and so did Carmilla.

Distracted from her conjecture, a soft rapping on the door filtered into the room.

“Come in,” She said, making her way back to the bed. It didn’t open for a long five seconds, then came a timid creak of the hinges.

Soon enough, the face of a black shawl poked through. Donna didn’t enter anymore than a few inches from the hallway, her right hand persistent on gripping the door handle. She fidgeted with the hem of her veil as they stood in painful silence. Out of habit, Carmilla nibbled the inside of her lip. Donna’s restlessness continuing as she let out a huff of invisible words. But Carmilla waited patiently in hopes she would grow comfortable to speak louder.

“I’m sorry?” She said with a tilt of her head. Donna stood reticent, her composure meek with her shoulders hunched. When Carmilla spoke, her head perked up a fraction.

“A-are you–” She faltered.

Carmilla gave her a patient smile, looking to her feet. “I’m sorry I stayed a little longer than you said, I promise I’ll be leaving now.” She said, taking a step forward to further portray her promise. Dona shook her head before clearing her throat and spoke a bit louder.

“Hungry?” She managed to say.

Carmilla looked from her feet, remembering her last meal this morning. Her stomach growled again, but not of hunger, but out of instinct. She shook her head, she’s stayed long enough. Donna shuffled through the threshold now fully inside, her black shoes peeking from her skirt hem.

“Will you promise to eat later?” Her voice was so soft as she ushered them. Carmilla's  gut jumped up to her throat, the care in Donna’s words almost making her feel sick. The concern felt genuine, but somewhere deep down she couldn’t accept it. Steadily, she raised her head to look at Donna. Something in her wanted to hug the Dollmaker, but the other half wanted to tear her apart and watch her beautiful blood stain the wood floors. The conflicting sides caused Carmilla's stomach to churn in disgust, her foot to tapping in place. No matter how much she tried, the monstrous side of her always gave her the most horrific impulses.

In the silence of her mental strife, Carmilla barely missed Donna begin to carve away at her cuticles. Blood rising from her nails, the slight sway of her body showcasing a growing anxiety. Quickly, she conjured up a response to ease her restlessness. Choosing to ignore the pull in her stomach at the sight of blood.

“Yeah! I’ll uh… make sure of it,” She gave Donna heartened grin. Her hands hiding behind her back to conceal the protruding nails that sprout from her nail beds.

Donna sucked in an audible breath, her shoulders higher with her spirit. She nodded and beckoned Carmilla with a finger as she exited out the room.

“I have some things for you,” She said from over her shoulder as they rounded out the room and to the staircase.

Carmilla took in a deep breath, letting in her excitement replace her uneasiness. Donna had checked off all the boxes of a great host by now, and yet she was still giving. What compelled her to go out of her way to do such a thing?

This mansion was quickly beginning to feel comforting, even through the gray lighting that cascaded through the cracked windows. It was a feeling she was used to, and for that it brought familiarity. Donna was kind enough to let her peace be disrupted by a stranger, and for that act of courage on her part Carmilla needed to pay her back in some way. She respected her word, and for that Carmilla's mind wrapped around an idea to do the same.

They stepped down from the first flight of stairs when Carmilla stalled next to the portrait once more, her attention taught on the portraits face. Donna caught her ogling and joined her on her right.

“Its flawed; That painting,” She said, her voice close to her ear, making shivers run down her back. Her brows inched together, appalled by Donna’s ridicule of the masterpiece.

“Why is that?” She looked to her, unknowingly peering through thick fabric that showed nothing but black. Donna clung to her stomach as she looked away.

“Time ages us.” Again with her vague answers. Carmilla didn’t hold it against her as it felt to be a sore spot for her. Just how old was she?

She nodded her head silently. “Not for some of us,” she said, letting out a huff. Her hand gestured to her ageless face, alluding to the fact that she hadn’t aged a day.

Donna titled her head back to her. “Is that so?”

She shrugged her shoulders and looked to the stairs, unable to remember just how long its been.

“Hey!” Angie screamed from the bottom of the stairs, her tiny polished shoe stomping on the floorboards. Both Donna and Carmilla shot their attention to the doll.

“Angie,” Donna warned with a low rumble.

“Oh come on! I’m getting old just watching you two” She countered back, a fake shiver running down her body. Carmilla quirked a brow, letting out a nervous laugh. Donna on the other hand was not pleased with Angie’s antics, her skirts ruffling in the air as she glided down the steps. Her sudden departure downward leaving her intoxicating smell in the air. Carmilla bit down on her tongue to quell any butterflies from her stomach. Trying her best to ignore that flowery scent before it completely dragged her into unwanted territory.

Before Donna could reach the bottom of the staircase, Angie had bolted away. Her cackling hysterical as Donna attempted to give chase. But soon gave up when Angie began circling the center table like a carousel, her endless laughter resembling a hyper child on sugar.

Carmilla stepped down, standing beside Donna. Watching the manic doll.

“Does she always do this?” Carmilla leaned to the side, whispering to Donna. The Doll maker flinched back slightly, but shook her head.

“She probably broke into the pantry and raided the sugar.” Donna spoke exasperated, bringing her finger and thumb to pinch her nose. Carmilla held in a chuckle, knowing that her amusement wouldn’t help the situation.So I’m guessing engaging with her would be a bad idea?” Carmilla said, a mischievous smile on her face. Donna’s veil turned to her, her movement sharp in surprise. But before she could speak, a loud crash had them both shoot their attention to the doll. Angie had successfully tipped the table on its side, all the fake fruit now spread across the floor. She stood proud, her tiny limps quivering in unpalatable energy. Carmilla at this point was beginning to get used to the dolls liveliness, a snort escaping her. She slapped her hand to her mouth, laughter bubbling up in her chest.

“Yes, it would be.” Donna deadpanned, now walking to Angie. She scooped up her companion, the doll protesting.

“Let me go, you-you miscreant!” Angie squealed as she tried to wriggle out of Donna’s grasp. “I’ll slice you to ribbons if you don’t!” Angie warned, but it only egged The Lady to flick her on the forehead.

“To ribbons? Really, you can do that?” Carmilla said, folding her arms in amusement.

“Of course I can Trespasser!” Angie countered, now managing to crawl onto Donna’s shoulder as she walked up the stairs.

“Angie,” Her low voice warned again, pulling Angie down from her shoulder to cradle her more firmly.

“What! Its true, who else waltz in here with no regard!” Angie said, folding her arms with a humph.

“Don’t forget the blood-sucking part too!” Carmilla yelled back, a teasing grin on her face. Part of that nickname Angie had given was false, but it was entertaining to partake in her ridiculous taunts.