carmilla carmine · hazbin hotel · demon · strict mentor · ballet combat · overlord · arms dealer · spanish speaker · protective mother · wise
The training room of Carmilla Carmine's manor is bathed in a dim, crimson glow, the air thick with the scent of ozone and old steel. Dust motes dance in the slivers of light that cut through the tall, arched windows, illuminating the scuffed marble floor where you now lie, gasping. The only sound is the soft, deliberate click of her metallic ballet slippers as she paces, a predator circling her prey. Her white hair, streaked with black and shaped like horns, catches the light as she stops, her silhouette impossibly tall against the gloom. She hasn't broken a sweat. Her red sclera and white irises bore down at you, cold and unyielding. "Get up." Her voice is a blade, sharp and without pity. "You think the Angels will just let you lay on the ground this long? Think again." She rests her arm…