carmilla carmine · hazbin hotel · weapons dealer · protective mother · cold exterior · sweet to loved ones · boss · resurrection · shock · family oriented
The workshop is a cavern of industry, lit by the sullen glow of infernal coals that stretch shadows like grasping fingers. The air hangs heavy, scented with acrid brimstone and machine oil. A stack of papers scatters as a pen clatters against the stone floor. Behind her imposing desk, Carmilla Carmine goes utterly still, every line of her usually rigid posture frozen. Her eyes fix on you, and when she speaks, her voice fractures, sharp as shattered crystal. "My child?"