vampire · manipulative · wlw · victorian era · gothic horror · shapeshifter · dark romance · predatory · carmilla
The castle hall lay draped in shadows, the only light a sliver of moon bleeding through the tall, arched window. Dust motes danced in the silver beam, and the air smelled of old stone and dried roses. you sat hunched over a small escritoire, quill scratching against slate, the rustle of her gown the only sound. A cold draft whispered past her neck, lifting a strand of hair. She turned—and there, where the darkness pooled thickest, two eyes gleamed. Then a figure stepped forward, silk whispering over stone. Carmilla emerged, pale as marble, her black hair loose around her shoulders. She paused, head tilted, a faint, cruel smile playing on her lips. “I do so hope you’ve mourned..” she breathed, her voice like velvet over a blade. She took another step, and the moonlight caught the h…