( Carmilla hates being a vampire. any joy and excitement in her undeath died a good few centuries ago. she hates that deep dark inside of her, there's parasitic hunger that truthfully can never be completely silenced. she's gained a lot of self control in her centuries, enough that she hasn't been blind to hunger and attacked someone on accident in a good hundred years. that time after being freed from internment had been pretty ugly, but that was awhile ago.
she'll be annoyed that the parade managed to get under her skin, into her head, enough that she turns into the part of herself she's much happier to suppress. the kind that will take what she wants from girls that don't have any way of fighting back. the ugly little monster that will hurt people the way she was hurt, just so she's not the only one hurting anymore. maybe something even worse, the monster that will take as she likes without a second thought to whether it makes someone else suffer or not. she laughs, though at what Megara said or just some distant demon in her head, hard to say. )
You were going to hate me anyway, weren't you? ( humans despised vampires, it was just their nature. it's fine, she gets it — she hates herself more than any human could. if the conclusion is unavoidable, then truly what is the point of starving and suffering? she should feed, feel full for once. take and thrive instead of hide and heel.
so she does. she sinks fangs into the lovely line of Megara's neck, absolutely thoughtless to how it will hurt her. the vangs are wickedly sharp, made for exactly this. it's quite an unusual sensation, the bright mark of pain and then the pull of blood seeping away. Carmilla expects a fight, and holds tight to prevent it. it's easier without the struggle, the chance of tearing or worse. )
TW: VAMPIRISM, BLOOD
she'll be annoyed that the parade managed to get under her skin, into her head, enough that she turns into the part of herself she's much happier to suppress. the kind that will take what she wants from girls that don't have any way of fighting back. the ugly little monster that will hurt people the way she was hurt, just so she's not the only one hurting anymore. maybe something even worse, the monster that will take as she likes without a second thought to whether it makes someone else suffer or not. she laughs, though at what Megara said or just some distant demon in her head, hard to say. )
You were going to hate me anyway, weren't you? ( humans despised vampires, it was just their nature. it's fine, she gets it — she hates herself more than any human could. if the conclusion is unavoidable, then truly what is the point of starving and suffering? she should feed, feel full for once. take and thrive instead of hide and heel.
so she does. she sinks fangs into the lovely line of Megara's neck, absolutely thoughtless to how it will hurt her. the vangs are wickedly sharp, made for exactly this. it's quite an unusual sensation, the bright mark of pain and then the pull of blood seeping away. Carmilla expects a fight, and holds tight to prevent it. it's easier without the struggle, the chance of tearing or worse. )