With their little black eyes, a pair of ring-necked parakeets eyed a new curiosity in their unchanging paradise. The lime-colored birds leapt from the nearby palm tree, flew through the warm morning air, and landed on one of the outdoor cafeteria's outer tables. They were joined by a third as it chirped upon its own landing, though its cry was drowned out by the growing conversations just before breakfast. United, the trio waddled their way past dishes and drinks across the half-filled table.
Accustomed to the crowds and staring Chaldean eyes, the birds stopped before the very large Jack-o-Lantern, one of the newest and largest decorations. Its carved face portrayed a very detailed rendition of a headless horseman atop a large wolf. At the bottom, in black sharpie, was a little assassin's signature with a title: Avenger Doggy. The birds' curiosity fell as they peered through the carvings only to find a used candle that smelled of freshly fallen autumn leaves.
But Carmilla knew what they really wanted. Silently, she took a tiny plate of seeds from the other side of the Halloween decoration and placed it behind them. With happy chirps, their attention quickly shifted to the special seeds as they buried their ruby beaks into the plate. She watched them quietly as her surroundings were slowly tuned out. Upon another chorus of chirps, she was reminded of her little conversation with Semiramis just the other day.
'I guess watching them this close is a bit mesmerizing after all,' she mused. Dare she say, they were even a bit cute.
It was a thought she'd never considered before. It was an act so simple that she would have scoffed in an era long past. She had much more important things to do back then. Royalty had many obligations, expectations, and selfish satisfactions that needed to be met on a daily basis. It was routine, but they were acts firmly rooted in the past, with only insistent influence on her stately poise. Here, she was just another known figure among many, though her name and title still carried fair weight.
And yet, this was the last place she imagined herself to be. She was a noble by upbringing, but an existence scorned in history. In this age, a luxurious mansion would have been a better fit. What karma should gift was far different, and she still often pondered whether another dungeon awaited her as another unseen demise. Nevertheless, she was here, after accepting a curious suggestion from a young master and a handful of Chaldean servants.
Whether she should rightfully be here or not was something else entirely… but by fate, she was. She relaxed in a tropical paradise with seagulls cawing high above. She sat in a newly made outfit she adored. She ate among heroes, wraiths, the misunderstood, staff, soldiers, mages…
Carmilla had been here just over a month, but she still found it hard to believe what she now knows is true.
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Fragment 88: Seeing is Believing
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A full moon shined outside the keep's windows and called forth howls from the forests. The muted noise of the wild could do nothing to break the blissful silence that reigned within that tower. Cloaked in darkness, the few candles urged shadows to dance over the rough textures of the stone room. Their little flames were clustered together in heaps as melted wax dripped down their lengths to pool at their base. They flickered again as the ripple of water echoed in the room.
With a calm sigh, a woman lounged within a smooth stone bathtub as rejuvenating steam wafted from its surface. Her hair snaked down her form and disappeared into the dark waters of the tub. A stool rested beside it with a neat pile of fresh linens left by her servants. A discarded brush rested just at the lip, and still dripped of the warm waters of life that filled the tub.
…But the waters that concealed her form were not the pure warmth of a steam bath.
Unlit by the candles, the crimson-colored waters stirred as the middle-aged woman shifted her form again. Her eyes were closed in content bliss as she quietly recounted her day and the tasks ahead of her. Covered to her neck, she relished in the warmth of another week's satisfying reward. It was a just offering for an aristocrat, and one she always looked forward to.
It was a bit of a pain cleaning her hair of the blood, but if that was the price for youthful beauty, it was an acceptable trade. The smell of its rich iron had become intoxicating, though did not arouse pure ecstasy. It was a chore to prepare, and the screams of the young women subdued by her servants was a fly in her ears; At least the dungeon was in the basement. The hassle was a shame, but a noble like her deserved nothing less.
The aristocrat had to wonder what a bath purely made of young women's blood would do for her body and soul, but it was a currently unobtainable wealth. The needed number of bodies was problematic, but she still demanded her weekly bath to preserve her grace. That much was manageable, at least. The woman's blood merely acted like a body wash additive to the steaming waters meticulously prepared for her. They were leagues better than regular baths, in her opinion.
Yet, she couldn't help but wonder at the occasional stares from her servants. It was that glint of fear in their eyes. Sometimes there was that brief moment of repulsion that some hid. She really should consider doing something about that. They were servants. Their only job was to keep her satisfied, and little annoyances like that sullied her mood. But she could think of something later.
'They fulfill their lowly duties as expected of them.' Any less, and they would hear from her quickly.
She just hoped she wouldn't have to. Not because she would have felt bad for them. She'd have no problem issuing orders to her guards to rectify any problems. No, it was merely the hassle the noble wanted to avoid. Another headache she didn't need nor wish to deal with. That was just how it was.
After all, it wasn't her fault they were born into the poor. She was just the one born into aristocracy, and should always be treated as such: Her birthright. There was an image to uphold, and she wouldn't let it be tarnished. She'd even do the torturing herself if she had to, because honestly, it had become passable after her dungeon keeper taught her some interesting techniques. Dare she say, it was even entertaining at times.
Lost in thought, Carmilla slowly sank further into her warm blood bath to relish in its embrace.
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Any thought of her past was a mixed memory now. Before it was pure nostalgia and noble indulgence. Carmilla still wasn't going to apologize for what she did, nor how she lived her life. A noble never admitted fault easily. That was an even greater sacred rule for her.
But after years of escorting her former master, she understood how wrong and evil it was. She was a villain, but she was also noble. At her core, she didn't feel like she had anything to atone for, but that didn't mean the guilt wasn't there. It was tiny and drowned by her noble bearing, but it's often said it's the little things that matter. Who knew a slither so tiny could grow so deafeningly loud?
Day after day, it had grown until it reached a firm idea. 'Someone like me doesn't deserve this second chance.'
And there it was again. That lone speck of guilt calling out from her aristocratic and haughty heart. For every brief moment of reminiscence, that damning truth popped up soon after. A few seconds of pondering was an eternity which smothered reality in momentary, slow silence. The happily eating parakeets, the calm conversation held by some of her tablemates, and the warm summer air became intangible blurs as her mind dwelled.
Her mental tug of war was only fueled by what was here. Carmilla was allowed to enjoy herself as she pleased so long as she did her part to safeguard humanity. She, who always looked down upon those beneath her, who held a palpable dislike for humans that burned in her core, was allowed to be who she wished. Everything in Chaldea was hers to enjoy so long as it was in a civil manner. It truly was a second chance at a life she never deserved because of all her wrongdoings…
…But, her nobility argued arrogantly, that philosophy could apply to many other here. Did it? Did it bother those who committed atrocities on a greater scale? If so, it didn't appear that way to many. They'd moved on or used it as their motivation, and so would Carmilla. She'd take this opportunity even as buried guilt cried out from her soul and decried someone like her deserved worse. And even though the desire to atone was nearly absent, at least she'd never pursue those heinous acts again.
Now? Now she pushed aside even her own guilt to enjoy luxuries a noble deserved.
In the brief seconds she took to reminisce again, it had drawn no one's attention. She cleaned her fingers off on the napkin that protected her lap form stray crumbs; Not that she'd ever make any. As she eyed the birds, she elegantly picked up her silverware to continue properly preparing her breakfast. The eggs needed to be cut appropriately then laid over the bread with as little mess as possible.
Nightingale sat down at the table across from her in a set of jeans and a black turtleneck sweater, which quickly drew the assassin's attention. She nodded to her growing number of companions. "Good morning, everyone. I hope you all had an appropriate amount of sleep."
Carmilla nodded back courteously, but still eyed her crisp clothes. "I haven't seen that sweater before."
"It was a gift from Irisviel," she responded after glancing at the birds, then at her own outfit. "It's a warm gift, but nothing fashionable compared to your outfit."
She couldn't withhold her proud, satisfied smile upon hearing that. Black leggings hidden beneath a leather pair of hot pants and boots. A white turtleneck sweater with intricately knitted lines was also tucked into her shorts, and hidden beneath a vibrant red overcoat. With her waterfall of silky white hair and porcelain skin, it was no wonder she drew attention from so many this morning. She'd want nothing less than that admiring attention.
"Naomi and Medea's magic," Carmilla replied with a small, satisfied chuckle. "I can't settle for anything less than their work anymore."
"You wear it well," Dantes replied calmly beside her. His small plate of fruit was currently untouched, and he had his face buried in an imported French newspaper. Sitting as upright and noble as her, he looked dashing as usual in a new grey, pin-striped suit; The jacket rested on the chair behind him. By stark contrast across from him, Artesia looked far less refined as she inhaled her plate of oil-soaked eggs and bacon. At least she wasn't getting any on her Vigil fatigues. Beneath them, she could occasionally feel the wag of Cavall II's tail.
"Good thing Joan didn't hear that." Beowulf pointed out beside her. Artesia shook her head, and he chuckled. "She would've gotten jealous again."
She glanced to his scarred and muscled form, which was easily outlined in his spandex-tight white shirt with a lifeguard cross. His red swim shorts were far less constrictive. He munched on his bagel calmly, yet a bit unrefined. Carmilla always wondered if that weak mad enhancement of his subtly influenced his mannerisms, because he certainly didn't act or dress like a king half the time. He didn't irk her, but he was yet another servant she still couldn't quite comprehend.
He glanced to her, then to the empty seat on the other side of Dantes. "…Where is she anyway?"
Dantes calmly lowered his newspaper and looked further into the Cabana's shaded interior. Carmilla glanced too out of curiosity, and the alter in a black sweater and white yoga shorts appeared as the crowds shifted. Though the assassin only caught glimpses, the avenger was definitely talking to Anishka. Curiosity brimming, the noble woman lowered her fork and turned fully to face her, making Artesia finally look.
Before long, their entire table was watching in silence as Joan parted ways with the master while wearing a stoic expression. She then weaved her way back through the crowd, but stopped just before their table. Artesia had a tiny smirk, while Beowulf had an eyebrow raised. Even if the others were calm, Joan quickly scowled in anticipation and embarrassment. "What're you all staring for!? Especially you, you heartless tyrant!"
"Trying to clear things up, are you?" Artesia prodded. "You're just as terrible at hiding your feelings as your counterpart."
Beowulf chuckled as Joan quickly flushed with embarrassment. Carmilla smiled amusingly. 'Such a lack of composure… How typical for that farmgirl.'
"Caught red handed!" Beowulf goaded further, and earned an amused chuckle from Dantes. "So you were eyeing Anishka too, huh?"
"No! Absolutely not!" Joan fumed back. She was quickly earning the stares from nearby tables, but her targets remained before her. "That's what I was clearing up! I have no feelings for her and she should accept that! And she did, so there's no problem!"
Beowulf only snickered. "Ah, drawing the lines in the sand then. Sounds proper. Wouldn't want to make things awkward between you and Dantes."
She flushed brighter. "For the last time, we're not…! Dantes, tell him before I burn him alive!"
"Like I said. Terrible at hiding your feelings. You need to work on that. It's almost disgusting," Artesia merely jabbed as she began shoveling food into her mouth again.
"Disgusting!?" Joan's eye twitched as more attention swung their way. "Look in a mirror when you eat! I can't tell what's viler... You or your trashy food!"
Artesia slowly put her fork back down, but smirked lightly at her with false geniality. "Oh? Does someone need to be reminded of their place?"
"Ah geeez… Can you two not do this this morning?" Quickly, the two turned to an adjacent smaller table. Across from Naomi and Medea, Skyler sat with elbows propped on the table and head resting upon his chin. The supervisor giggled at his exasperated stare, and even the caster smiled lightly as the Vigil master met the heavy glares of both without flinching. He only rolled his eyes. "It's like an alarm clock. Every morning without fail, you take pop shots."
"I wouldn't have to if she wasn't so annoying!" Laughter erupted from the audience as the two alters slowly stared at each other; They'd yelled that at the same time. Skyler only stared in disbelief, sighed, and reached for a fourth cup of coffee that Naomi gently floated over to him. He nodded in thanks, then shook his head.
Not a moment later, Artesia and Joan were now in a full quarrel, yet again. Carmilla found it annoying at first. It was still annoying, but now amusing too. It was just another new quirk of her very strange group that helped her fit in. She'd been grateful, even if she never truly voiced how much she appreciated their acceptance.
She felt she didn't need to. After Dantes introduced her into their fold, she merely felt like she belonged in some way. That's why, even with the newfound annoyances, she still found content company amongst them. She felt most comfortable around Dantes, since his noble and powerful bearing felt so refined, but she enjoyed the others' strange company too. Even after she made more companions, she enjoyed this mismatched group, even if she was often the quietest among them if only to emphasize her upright bearing differed from theirs.
They were merely the first to make her see that, no matter who a servant was, Chaldea would offer a chance.
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With no real obligation for the morning, Carmilla decided to enjoy some time alone. Although, enjoying time alone for her was very different from what most had believed at first. There had been a little rumor that it was her secretly containing her vampiric tendencies, but that was actually stomped out by Queen Marie; She had a different rumor… That Carmilla found a secret personal hobby, and she wasn't too far off.
It just wasn't what anyone actually expected.
'That bookshelf will never look complete at this rate…' Truly, she was hard to satisfy, even for herself.
The challenge of room decoration wasn't knowing what she wanted, but rather finding and fitting everything within the small space. It was no castle keep, but she was no peasant. There were standards that needed to be met. To her surprise, Delaqua's Furniture Department managed to achieve it.
Plush royal white rugs were placed intricately over black faux-marble flooring. A high class set of ebony vanity, bookshelves, coffee table, tall chair, and queen-sized bed were placed accordingly; Her room still felt open. Two tall Sunscape windows were hung on the far white faux-marble wall and flanked by black stately curtains. Along with the small silver chandelier and matching sconces, her room always felt far brighter than most would have expected.
Vampiric compulsions or not, Carmilla wasn't some troll who lived in a dark cave. She was, and always would be, a refined and elegant aristocrat. That's why, though her room was 'complete', she was always on the lookout for the little treasures. Extravagant paintings, rare books, delicate sculptures, and more would occasionally catch her eye on deployment. Her insistence on bringing them back was, surprisingly, almost never contested so long as the means of obtaining them were genuine.
The chandelier was actually the lone exception, but Anne and Mary proved to be very resourceful and cunning. Just like her past estate servants.
Quietly, she stood before the bookshelf for probably the dozenth time that week. It was frustrating, really, but in a past life or not, she always made the calls on furnishings. Her family amassed a lot of wealth and luxuries, but their sense of feng shui was atrocious. She had to do a lot of redecorating.
However, just like then, she was never truly satisfied with her balancing act. It was always challenged by occasional gifts too. A new present was another puzzle piece to fit accordingly without making anything look out of place, or sparse. Truth be told, despite the frustrations, it was quite enjoyable.
Perhaps Hijikata actually had a point, and the thought of being an interior designer might make for a decent career.
Most Chaldeans could use a lesson in room dynamics. Along with cleanliness and clothing, it was a statement and extension of one's own person. For a noble, that meant it had to be flawless. Any mistake was a stain on their family name and class. That's why even the act of placing a few little gifts alongside her chosen decorations was such a recurring heist that consistently robbed her of time.
In particular, it was this most recent gift that irked her like no other. Just when she'd finally arranged the shelf last week with a tiny glass menagerie, that damn Shinsengumi Vice-Commander had offhandedly given her a present. He didn't even wrap it, delivered it elegantly, or even prepared a tiny speech to pique her interest. Hijikata, quite literally, just handed it to her during a singularity with a small smile, a nod, and a tiny comment. "I think it suits you."
She still groaned at that tiny memory. 'That man has no tact…'
Among glass unicorns, dogs, and other animals, there was an opened box of midnight velvet. Sitting within its protective housing was a porcelain white figure. The ballerina was about the size of her other pieces, but it wasn't glass. The box made it better suited as a centerpiece on her vanity or one of her nightstands. She could probably place it as a bookend, but then she'd need a matching one to balance it. It was truly a constant headache…
…Partly because she couldn't bring herself to separate the figure and protective box. She still remembered opening the elegant black case, then pausing upon seeing the equally beautiful figurine within. His words echoed in her mind constantly whenever she gazed at it, and further cemented her problem: The box and figurine had much more meaning together.
Hijikata may have lacked tact, but with every little act, he always made her wonder what else rested behind that rough exterior of stalwart fidelity.
With yet another sigh, she wrestled with the decorative thoughts in her mind. Even as her ornate cuckoo clock chimed to ring in the eleventh hour, her mind remained lost in struggle. Frustration welled, but she paid it little mind. It was a better and far cry from the guilt-plagued thoughts of before.
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Although lunch was always served at the resort these days, a much lighter offering was still presented by the famed kitchen staff. The small array of biscuits, muffins, and tea were laid out at Salon de Marie's bar for any to enjoy. Robots handled most of the catering and preparation to give Marie's group time for themselves. Their little bowties and top hats made for an amusing sight for those few who ate in luxury.
With refined grace, she sauntered over to the corner booth the Romans usually sat for dinner. Though most of the Dining Area was empty, the three women filled the air with pleasant yet high-class chatter. Carmilla's little smile was already on her face well before she finished her approach. She nodded to a robot that quickly scooted away with an empty silver tray, then calmly took her seat at the end. "Shame on me. I'm the latest."
"But still on time!" Nero chimed happily at the center of the circular booth. Her satin red dress was accented at the waist with red frills that looked like roses. Complimenting crimson lace, puffy sleeves with pink stripes, and scarlet gloves made her stand out among the rest; That was something the other present servants ensured for themselves.
Quickly, Carmilla went about her first act, and gauged her closest group of friends openly.
Carmilla's gaze turned to Semiramis between them, who had the simplest of outfits between all of them. Her black, high-slit strapless was accented at the edges with silver that gleamed like her pearl necklace. Hands clad in matching opera gloves were folded perfectly in her lap, right at the edge of a satin silver waistband. Her luxurious, black fur coat was hung neatly on the seat beside her. They shared a simple smile and nod as she eyed her quickly in turn.
At Nero's other side, Cleopatra sipped from her tea perfectly. Her traditional Egyptian dress of purest white snaked along her form to cover her front, but left her arms and back exposed. The shimmering golds bands with hieroglyphics held the cloth in place just under her bosom and around her hips; They were matched by a traditional elegant necklace fit for pharaohs. Carmilla had seen this dress being modelled, and knew the double high-slits of the white skirt beneath the table were quite daring, but a look the legendary beauty could easily pull off.
It had taken only seconds, but Carmilla quickly nodded to them. "Ladies. You're all looking elegant today. Especially you, Cleo. Making Caesar extra protective?"
"I do love it when he gets a bit possessive. Reminds me of past years," she jested back calmly as she set her tea down. "I see you didn't go for a dress today. I love your new coat."
"I found it online, but it needed the Stitch Witch's touch," she responded calmly as another robot floated over to give her a small plate, napkin, and silverware. It reached over to the assortment of dishes at the table's center, then began pouring tea with its multiple arms. "It was a bit too loose around the waist. And the sleeves weren't quite what the pictures led me to believe."
"You're more daring than us to order online," Semiramis commented. "It turned out well. How did you find that brand?"
"Price and reputation," she smiled back calmly. "None of us should be bothered to even look at the common thread."
"We deserve the best. Cost is no issue for us." Cleopatra smirked lightly, making Nero giggle.
"Umu~! Especially for you! You have the wealth of Egypt and Rome at your fingertips!" the Empress of Roses declared, making Cleopatra shake her head playfully. "Always so humble about it! Caesar would drown the world in gold for you! Or maybe it's because you like having him on a different leash?"
Cleopatra inhaled, placed a hand over her heart, and feigned a look of a scandalized maiden. "Nero, how uncouth of you to say such things about a Pharaoh and an Emperor. Amongst friends and in public, no less! If any of us does anything with leashes, it's Semiramis."
"…How rude… Are you scrutinizing how I may be outside the public's eye…?" Carmilla glanced to her side, just as the Assyrian Queen raised an eyebrow curiously and brought a finger to her lips. Her tone seemed offended, but the paler assassin knew better by now. As expected, Semiramis then smirked playfully and hummed. "…A priest bound by a leash… Hmm… I think I need to try that."
After a small pause, the three giggled at the scandalous banter. Carmilla then quickly enjoyed her first sip of tea for their get together. Without a doubt, this was one of the occasional highlights in Chaldea. They hadn't met every day before, but now it was a consistent staple in her routine. Meeting with any of the others multiple times a day was becoming common too, and it always brought out the best in her.
To think, she may have never even associated herself with the other three royals had she not started looking at fancier clothes. As part of her growing need to pronounce her high standing prestige among other Chaldean nobility, her clothes had to be eye-catching, unique, and beautiful. As soon as her wardrobe grew, Cleopatra had quickly noticed and approached her. Nero followed soon after.
Carmilla hadn't cared for socializing beyond the group Dantes introduced her to, so she was only vaguely aware of the friendly rivalry between the two best friends. Apparently, it had grown a third member who also held herself highly. It had been a whim to accept a meeting, if only to showcase her own poise to two who supposedly challenged her… but it was a whim Carmilla was happy she took.
Now she was the fourth member of Chaldea's newest clique: The Royal Fashionistas, the Stich Witches' most demanding customers.
They were companions she came to cherish. Though they secretly judged each other's clothes and actions, it was this adversity that raised them higher; They helped each other grow. Their friendship was as genuine as their mutual interest in fashion, aristocratic poise, and ruling viewpoints. Together, they exuded the air of wealth and high-class feminine elegance like no other, even if some of their playful jests walked the tightrope above scandalous reason.
Yet, their conversations were often so very relaxed, yet often predictable, and even daringly scandalous at times. Cleopatra quickly placed her tea down, looked around quickly, then leaned in with a hushed voice. "Did you ladies see what Medb was wearing today?"
"Those jean shorts were small…" Semiramis commented with a small frown. "Must she always find new ways to advertise herself? She's supposed to be a queen."
"I can't fault her for doing whatever she wants. There's a beauty in that," Nero admitted, and the other three quietly nodded in reluctant agreement. "But it's not classy."
"It's made her popular among the Vigil, but soldiers are soldiers, no matter the era…" Carmilla offered, but wished to speak no more of a queen that flaunted herself as a floosy. "But enough of that. Cleo, did you read through that issue of Vogue you received yesterday? Does it have your recommendation?"
"Oh, certainly. Another fine addition we ladies should have in our monthly digest," she agreed quickly with a smile. "I've been meaning to show Naomi and Medea. There's some nice ideas in there that could use their own twist. Some information about their competitors too. They have beautiful designs, but I'd feel bad ordering one of their dresses after everything those two have done for us… Especially you, Nero."
Semiramis chuckled as Nero pouted. "I wasn't that bad before! It was just teething problems! Naomi's staff were still growing and learning!"
"She wasn't used to dealing with a prima donna, I suppose," Carmilla jested, making Nero huff again. She then looked at her own finely detailed sweater. "It's obvious why she was a tailor for a Clock Tower Lord. I can hardly wait to see what they'll have us modelling for the upcoming ballroom line."
"I'm most interested in their jewelry," Semiramis mused as she graced a finger over her necklace. "I'd love some fancier jewelry."
Nero tilted her head ever so slightly. "Didn't Amakusa surprise you with one a few days ago?"
"Mmm, with beautiful sapphires. It was sweet of him. It's just unfortunate it doesn't go well with most of my wardrobe."
"Men may have the hearts, but not always the eye. I'm fortunate Caesar has both," the pharaoh commented, but then smirked lightly at her. "I guess there's only one remedy, no?"
"An excuse for a new dress!" Nero chimed in, and the girls fell into light giggling again.
"You don't have something blue yet. Scarlet accents would fit you better, but I think you can pull blue ones off," Carmilla pointed out. "Or maybe something in full azure?"
"So long as it's not the pale blue Queen Elizabeth wore last week, I'm willing to try," the Assyrian queen admitted before sipping her tea.
Nero bounced in her seat. "Ohhh~! I love her wardrobe! If I ever became that old, I'd want cute and classy outfits like that too!"
"Well, we have eternal youth and beauty now," Carmilla countered with a proud smile. "We won't have to worry about terrible things like wrinkles and gray hair."
They nodded in solidarity. Though fashion was often the central pillar of their conversations, they did talk about much; The need to show themselves off was just common ground. Yet, even if it did take up their entire meetings sometimes, it never felt like wasted time. Appearances stated much, after all. Carmilla was just glad she had close companions who agreed wholeheartedly.
One's look, behavior, living space, and clothes… There were much that helped define how a person was seen, and who one associated themselves with was another. That's why cherry-picking a group of like-minded individuals would have been a growing need for her in order to emphasize who she defined herself as; Fortunately, these beautiful women turned out to be the perfect fit that found her instead. Carmilla couldn't have asked for more ideal company.
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Not in a sunbathing mood, Carmilla opted to relax in the Ballroom side after their meeting ended. Sipping wine elegantly with a good book was often a fair way to pass the time. Mozart and Phantom's duets always helped make it that much more tranquil. Though she personally would have designed the salon in different colors, it was this regal atmosphere that made it her absolute favorite of Chaldea's common areas.
The library would have been a closer second if it didn't have Hans and Shakespeare.
As she sat at the bar, she'd lost track of time, and only now realized the two stopped playing a while ago. After her first uncertain week here, it became far easier for her to do so. She'd even stopped glancing warily to any approaching presence; It was habit from years of hiding and relocating with her former master. She still glanced, of course, but no longer in worry.
Instead, it was only mild curiosity as she felt one familiar one stride gracefully toward her. She looked up from her book and eyed Vlad, cloaked in a black robe with silver accents. The pale man strolled to the bar beside her, but nodded and smiled gently her way. She returned it simply as Sanson moved over while cleaning a glass. "The usual, Vlad?"
"I heard you received some Domaine Leroy. Mind if I have a taste?"
"A sip might turn expensive after the second glass. I pray you don't fall into debt with Marie," the bartender joked as he moved over to the expensive side of the wine rack. He eyed her in her peripherals, and she glanced over. "Would you like a refill while I have the Chambertin in hand?"
"I won't say no," she suggested, and he nodded quickly. Before Vlad could ask, she glanced to her blood red drink, then back to the lancer. "It's splendid. Rich on the tongue, before and after."
"For its supposed price, I'd hope so," he chuckled back, and she joined him in turn. "Having a good day, I hope?"
"Nothing special. Just the usual… Basking in luxury on this strange vacation," she stated as Sanson began pouring Vlad his glass. As soon as he was done, he started refilling hers. "Taking a break from your little projects? Or from the child?"
Vlad glanced back towards the cluster of ottomans, making her look too. Though Naomi and Medea had left to work, she could still spot Boudica's vibrant hair peering over a small shrubbery divider. She couldn't see them, but she could hear Raikou's motherly voice, Marie's coos, Mata Hari's cheers, and Elsa's coddling between giggle fits. Giovanni's happy cheers echoed above them all.
The lancer smiled. "Gio's never a bother. Probably the most well-tempered baby I've ever seen."
"I'll admit, he's alright." It was a huge compliment coming from her. She mostly hated dealing with children, especially babies who constantly cried and screamed. Those brats were the worst. Perhaps that's why she was only dismissive; She's only her him cry once, so he was acceptable, at least.
After Sanson offered them their drinks, he nodded to them, and quickly went back to cleaning some glasses. The two picked up their wines, stared at each other, and silently toasted. They sipped on their ruby drinks, and she felt the vibrant flavor wash across her tongue. It tickled all the right spots, and even triggered a compulsive craving for a livelier red liquid. However, she'd grown used to batting that down over the years.
As much as these vampiric influences were part of her being, it was an unsightly embodiment Carmilla refused to let define her completely: It was inelegant.
It was something Vlad never had to deal with any longer. She honestly found him strange and ludicrous at first. He was the origin of the feared Dracula, yet he denied that existence so adamantly. She couldn't understand it, and derided him for casting away what made him infamous. Yet, she now recognized that was not the whole truth; He was still very famous as the impaler who halted the Ottoman avalanche.
Even so, it baffled her he could deny that embodiment so much that he'd gladly cast it aside when the conditions were right. But it was still locked within as a noble phantasm. She knew it, and so did he, yet she didn't prod or berate him for it any longer. She offered a diplomatic apology for her churlish behavior, but never admitted she admired that purposeful sense of self. Even if others may see him differently, he does his best to show who he is and wants to be seen as.
Frankly, that sense of refined identity only reinforced her own belief of defining who she was, even if she'd never admit it.
He was no doubt an aristocrat at heart. It was true to such an extent that Vlad remained kind to his older, more abrasive niece. It rubbed her right and wrong at the same time that he still saw her like that. It was secretly heartwarming, even if she never did call him uncle in turn. But even so. 'Maybe if he'd been there to guide me…'
Vlad stared at his glass and smiled. "A fine wine indeed. I hope Marie will keep these in stock."
"Knowing her tastes and spending habits? Do I need to answer that?" Sanson smirked from further down the bar, making the other two chuckle.
"I often wonder what the Vigil go through to deliver everything we order," Vlad commented as he still stared at his glass. He then glanced towards the grand piano. "Perhaps its time I asked one of them about it. Quench that itch of curiosity."
As he sipped on his wine, Carmilla looked to the piano too. She blinked as if seeing a mirage, but sure enough, she saw the signature fatigues. Omar stood by the piano while the two female soldiers talked with Kiyohime nearby. Though she cared little for the affairs of others, she picked up a few key words. Something about his condition, surgery, and problems. It was enough for Kiyohime to glance sympathetically towards the blind engineer.
Obviously he didn't notice: He's blind. All Carmilla saw him do was clumsily feel his way towards the nearby piano for comforting support, then slowly run his hand along its features. His fingers glided across its framed and towards the keys, where he gently pressed a key. Then another. It was random prodding at first, but then he was quietly and slowly stitching notes together into a simple song… alongside a handful of wrong notes.
It was a mess, and not too pleasing to the ear, but it made the three women stare pitifully to him. Carmilla didn't. Sure, a newly disabled person had it rough, but she just merely didn't care either way. How many people genuinely cared about someone they never knew? Sympathy was a virtue that was mostly absent with her. If his fumbling and patched together notes did anything, it was to remind her of-
"Uncle Vlad! Are you… Oh. It's you..." Great. Just when her day was going smooth too.
She growled even before she looked. "Oh. The pest is here."
Slowly, Carmilla turned a dismissive glare towards the one person she truly hated in this place: herself. Or at least, the ridiculous, naïve, stupid, and optimistic self that did everything in her power to become something absurd. It was hard enough on first arrival to understand how some dared to try and redefine themselves in Chaldea, but when it came to her, she couldn't accept this outright defiance.
Carmilla huffed at Elizabeth, then eyed her ridiculous ensemble. Her pink and white idol outfit with more frills than the salon's drapery stung her eyes. The matching striped top hat with plush animals on its brim dragged nails down her mind's chalkboard. Her voice was worse, no matter how refined it seemed to be with the little microphone she always carried with her.
But most aggravating of all was that damned shine in her eyes that matched her own glare: The look of refusal and denial.
Vlad sighed. "Please, you two. For once, can you just-"
"NO!" They yelled in unison. It was the only thing they ever agreed on. Vlad would always ask, and they would always deny.
"Just ask him what you want and be on your way before I vomit my wine!" Carmilla spat out. That was as close to a compromise for Vlad as she would get.
"I hope you do! It'd look better on you then that ridiculous outfit!"
"You're chiding me on my attire while wearing that disaster!?" Carmilla spat back as a fire ignited between their glares. "Grow some fashion sense!"
"When you grow some maturity, stupid!" Elizabeth countered as she placed her arms akimbo.
"Liz. What did you need to ask me?" Vlad asked calmly in a new attempt to diffuse the bomb.
Thankfully, though both glared at him, Elizabeth reeled herself in a bit. "Robin is almost done with my idol website. We're going to record my little jingle when someone arrives for the first time! Would you like to have the first listen?"
"Please do so she doesn't sing here," Carmilla slapped. "God knows Chaldea plays enough of her on the speakers for me to handle."
"You're just jealous I can sing and you can't!" By now they attracted the attention of the entire Salon. Little Giovanni was even starting to whine about the noise, but Carmilla didn't hear it. She couldn't hear the others trying to calm him down over the terrible insect that talked before her. She didn't even care how her argument might possibly make her look; Everything came second to denying what this little wannabe idol train wreck did to her image; She made Carmilla look awful!
"With the help of your auto-tune microphone! Without it you're just a screeching mess!" Elizabeth bit her bottom lip as her hands shook. Sanson, deadpanned in a stoic stare, very slowly raised his radio in preparation to call for Peacekeeper backup.
"Says the dumb slut who tries to act fashionable then fights in some fetishy mess of leather straps and dresses!"
Their conflict was instinctual. Though some got along civilly, at worst, with their counterparts, Carmilla didn't see the same happening for them. They denied each other's existences. They were too different. Some dared to say they were both in denial and acting the same, but she was superior and she knew it. Even if she was jealous and motivated by how much she dared to try and be who she wanted to, she loathed the cutesy idol path she walked!
At her core, she wanted nothing to do with her, yet she couldn't just kill her outright. That'd likely lead to her own execution, and though it wasn't a terrible consequence before, this little life she had became quite the unfortunate anchor to hold her back. Now all they could do was quarrel, hope to win verbal debates, or even the occasional catfight, but that would have to suffice. If she had any major, selfish reason to stay, it was to exist spitefully for the sole purpose of reminding this brat who she was really going to become.
'I'm not some stupid idol that tries too hard to present themselves in a perfect light!'
Even after a month in Chaldea, Carmilla still never saw the hypocrisy of her own thoughts.
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
"Arthur and I will be there tonight, Para! My sisters are spending time with Altera!" "Pharaoh! Valkyrie! Bazzett's agreed to a drinking contest with Cu! You gotta see!"
The weekend's first dinner had come quickly, but she usually shied away from the louder crowds on the boardwalk. She could certainly put up with the noise, but she'd simply rather not if she had the choice. That's what made the quieter club more appealing since less ate within. There was only the calm chatter of calm conversation among the few filled tables and the tropical music playing over the speakers.
~~Ocean man~~
~~Take me by the hand, lead me to the land~~
~~That you understand~~
"You're very stunning today." She eyed Hijikata, who sat at the other side of their little booth in a crisp white collared shirt that remained unbuttoned at the top. His black formal vest was well fitted for his muscular frame, and his hair was surprisingly slick and well kept. As her eyes graced his form, she had to admit: The berserker cleaned up much better than she ever anticipated.
'You're not so bad yourself…' She refrained from voicing that. Give this man an inch, and he may take an entire castle.
"Your way with words astounds me," Carmilla commented sarcastically as she raised her glass of wine. "And you didn't comment about it before?"
"I had a more urgent concern. We can't have you flying off the handle and throwing Liz in an iron maiden."
"That's one thing I wouldn't do." She actually meant it. As much as she hated that younger counterpart, she'd never forcefully imprison her in anything. It was probably along the same line as Joan actually burning Janna with flames like she often threatened; There were some lines one just shouldn't cross. "She's not worth the trouble."
"Even though it has me rushing to your side at a moment's notice?" He smirked lightly, and his tone carried a playful edge. She merely eyed him again as a robot poured him more wine. He picked up the glass with surprising elegance, and took an equally regal sip. "I'm kidding. But seriously, you should try to tone it down a bit. You're giving Okita quite the headache."
"Do something about that other me and you have a deal."
"I figure you'd say something like that. Just had to ask," he chuckled, then shook his head. "So did you find a place for that figure?"
"I'm working on it. You really threw a wrench at me this time," she sighed lightly. "I hope you're not expecting a return gift."
"I'd have expected one for the other gifts then," he corrected, and she slowly nodded in understanding. "This date is enough for me."
"Just don't get ahead of yourself. This date doesn't mean anything yet," she reminded firmly, but he only smirked lightly.
"Yet. Your word, not mine." She felt her eyebrow twitch in annoyance. Between his often blunt words, not-so-subtle advances, and forward mannerisms, he was quite something… No, that wasn't right. She knew exactly how to describe this berserker ever since he accompanied her on her introduction tour.
Hijikata was an idiot. A simplistic lout. An uncouth peasant before aristocratic beauty. A thick-headed fighter who didn't know when to quit. A curr who ignored their place and dared to flirt with someone well above their league.
…Nonetheless, he did, and he didn't care, and he did it because he wanted to. He pursued what his heart and mind agreed upon with fervor, and was opposed to hiding it. Truth be told, as annoying and insufferable as she found it before, it was what she came to like most about him. There was something to be said about his determination, straightforward attitude, and profound loyalty. If she even dared to admit it, she even found his unyielding pursuit of her… endearing.
'Someone who actually likes me for being me.' Perhaps 'yet' would prove to have been a suitable word in the future, but she wouldn't hold her breath or admit it. She had appearances to keep, and as much as they got along from time to time, she wasn't just going to drop her guard instantly like a cheap date. She was, and forever will be, a noble… a noble that could use a loyal, handsome bodyguard.
She clicked her tongue. "Don't twist my words. It's not like I've been thinking of you in that way. So believe what you wish, but watch your step, Hijikata."
"Yes, ma'am," he agreed resolutely but calmly with a smooth smile that lured her eyes like honey. "But I hope it's fair to ask if you did your nails yourself."
Though she could think of smoother ways to continue a conversation, she gave him credit for preventing awkward silence and taking her threat so easily. She glanced to her nails, which were far shorter than they were in battle. It was a pain to manicure them after every deployment, but it was a small sense of silent meditation. Today, they were crimson to match her coat with the subtle sprinkles of white like stars to compliment her sweater. She nodded, "I kept them plain. Nothing extravagant."
"Compliments your clothes without competing for attention." Swiftly and honestly surprised, she stared at him and blinked. "Hm? Is that not what you were going for? You're one of Chaldea's Royal Fashionistas. Or are you surprised I know a tiny bit about aesthetics? We Shinsengumi often helped guard the shogunate representatives and their families, so I know a few things."
…Now she was intrigued. They had few things to relate on aside from torture techniques; That had been a major surprise. They could actually talk for hours about precise techniques and methods… but that wasn't dinner table worthy chatter. There was a time and place for everything. "How interesting. Was it one family in particular, or over the course?"
"There was one representative I helped Okita guard. He only took the finest in our early days. His wife was quite fussy about appearances and taught Okita a few things," he reminisced with a small smile. "I had to double my watch since she was distracted. I never did scold her about it."
"The strict Hijikata? Not scolding an underling for slacking on their job? I find it a bit hard to believe," she mused, but fell far more invested in this little date than she first was. Any chance to know more about the depths of this harsh man was welcome. Maybe he wasn't that strictly straight-edged after all.
"I can be lenient. Okita was still doing her job, and she brought the Shinsengumi closer to that representative by getting along well with his wife," he stated firmly, then smirked in fond memory. "It's good seeing her smile too. She's often too self-critical and working hard to prove she's worthy, but she always was. Kondo, myself… We all saw it."
"Sounds like you hold those days dearly." She felt her eyes shine with intrigue, and her mouth bend into a subtle smile. "I'd like to hear more about them, if you don't mind."
"Only if you tell me your glory days in turn," he bargained with a calm smile. She couldn't wave it aside before he caught it off guard. "I'm sure there's more to you than meets the eye too. I'd like to hear of them. The noble countess' happiest moments."
She smiled coyly. "I'm afraid they're probably not as exciting as your adventurous tales."
"Maybe, but I'm sure they're fascinating. If I tell my tale, I'd like to hear your story from you, not anyone else." She couldn't help but smile genuinely at that deal.
Before she could take it though, a commotion started to snag attention. Patrons from other booths and tables peered out towards the dance floor, making her glance past Hijikata out of curiosity. One had to be wary of what crazy shenanigans could cause collateral damage; Thankfully, that wasn't the case this time. The commotion quickly lost her interest though.
"It was just a dozen drinks! Pull yourself together!" Just Nobunaga and Okita bickering again. "I thought you said you could hold your alcohol!?"
The blushing saber hiccupped, but her voice wasn't too slurred. "But I had sooooooo much paperwork this weeeeek~! You said I should relaaax!"
"I said relax, not agree to a suicidal buddy-drinking contest with Cu and Fergus! Pick your battles, Okita!" Nobunaga growled with exasperation, then hiccupped. She was surprisingly coherent when drunk too. "Now I'm going to miss appetizers dragging you to bed!"
"I'm sooooowwwwyyyyyyyy~…!"
With one arm slung over Nobunaga's shoulders, a very inebriated Okita was being helped towards the exit. Her sky blue skirt danced around with her stumbling legs, and her loose white sweater was pinned to her waist by the archer's firm grip. Nobunaga didn't look much better herself with a flush on her cheeks that nearly matched her crimson and white varsity jacket. A few Chibi Nobus clung to her jeans like bracers, but she was clearly far better at being drunk than the saber.
Hijikata glanced back at the pair and their cluster of Chibi Nobus, sighed, and chuckled lightly. "I guess she finally tried the Celts alcohol. Good on her."
"You're not upset she's making a fool of herself?"
"It's just herself. I would've cared if she was wearing our Haori… then she's supposed to represent the Shinsengumi," he explained calmly, then brought a hand to his chin in thought. "Though she is the Peacekeeper Captain… Probably not the best image for the force."
Carmilla smiled slyly. "Chaldeans meeting expectations? Please. I don't think anyone is going to care what Okita does in her free time. You have servants like me wandering around without a care… Do you really believe this can turn into anything more than a few teases? Being drunk is far from a scandal."
He smirked lightly and nodded in agreement, just as Okita and Nobunaga stumbled their way closer to their table. Carmilla glanced again, just as Okita tried to shake herself loose. "Nobuuuu! Let me go already, I can walk fiiiine!"
"No you can't! You'll fall over if I- Okita!" Carmilla watched as a chuckling Okita floundered forward, but Nobunaga spun her so she'd land at a table across from them instead. They were hardly balanced, nor coordinated. Nobunaga wound up falling onto the booth seating first as a giggling Okita fell on top. After a small explosion of Chibi Nobus were sent flying in the crash, Nobunaga flailed her own arms. "You damn hitman! It'll take an hour to get to your room at this rate!"
"You don't need to come, Nobuuu," Okita slurred as she pushed herself up and eyed their position. She grinned. "Hey look, I'm dominating you!"
That snapped Nobunaga's expression instantly. In a flash, Okita yelped as the archer turned the tide of the war, and managed to flip their positions around. Now she had Okita pinned to the ground as she smirked deviously. "I'm the warlord here, Okita. The Demon Lord of the Sixth Heaven! I'm the one who dominates! You do well never to ~hic~...forget that!"
To Carmilla, it would've sounded just a tiny bit more impressive if the archer hadn't hiccupped in the middle of it. The Chibi Nobus were quickly trying to help the two to their feet, all while the two drunks began squabbling and flailing again. Carmilla and Hijikata were about to turn back to their own little discussions and ignore the distractions… had their flailing and bickering not fallen unusually silent. Carmilla turned back and felt her eyes widen.
Suddenly the two drunks were now tongue wrestling. Okita's struggled to free her hands while Nobu's acted like wrist clamps. Their eyes were bolted tight and lips locked, but every little break for air was a drunkenly slurred insult or another bickering line. They still kissed, all while the Chibi Nobus fell stiff in shock.
It was rude to stare. Courtesies and customs were drilled into her refined being, but she couldn't help it. She doubted anyone else could either, but she noticed there was only silence beyond the club's tropical music tracks. Everyone just stared without any cheering, hoots, or hollers. Someone offered a golf clap further away, but that was it. Finally, another yelled out the collective thought everyone but her and the few present Vigil soldiers held. "Fucking hell. What took them so long?"
She finally turned to Hijikata, who stared blankly at the two, and cleared her throat. "…Aren't you going to say or do anything? I suppose they're fine now but… this might turn into public indecency."
"Hm…?" He seemed to contemplate her thought for a moment, then slowly nodded. "Ah… Yea. That wouldn't be good."
Without hesitation, he reached into a satchel beside him and pulled out his large concealment cape. It glistened black with its silky thread as he held it, then casually threw it towards the pair. It covered them perfectly, but made the Chibi Nobus scramble around in panic and confusion as they were captured by the net too. Carmilla blinked in surprise as laughter echoed around them. He merely met her baffled stare with a small smirk of his own.
"Out of sight, out of mind." He then glanced back at their legs and noticed Okita was struggling to flip the two over, but the warlord was proving superior. He scoffed. "Hoy! I know you have more energy in you than that, Okita! You're a Shinsengumi Captain! Counter attack! You're embarrassing yourself!"
She managed to ignored the now muffled pair as she gazed at the strange berserker before him. Just when she thought he was so straightforward and easy to understand, he threw her for a loop. She couldn't help but laugh at his ridiculousness in the past moment, and he smirked back. "You've got a nice laugh there. Goes well with your smile."
Now she really couldn't help but smile back.
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VIII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
The day after, an embarrassed Nobunaga and Okita were still adamantly denying anything happened. No one was buying it. Mata Hari's video of the moment didn't help either. Even now, Carmilla still chuckled about it as she reached her destination.
She never could quite figure out why the Summoning Chamber was always dim when in use. Some said it was for theatrical feel. Others said it was because the flash of prana was bright enough as it is. Whatever the case may be, Carmilla found it comfortable… Mostly because it made her skin look a little less ghostly than the hallways always seemed to.
It felt like a lazy day, but her wardrobe only mirrored the attitude slightly. It merely meant less layers and jewelry. Her white pencil skirt with matching leggings, high heels, and a black frilly blouse were easy enough to don. She gave her hair a few more curls and repainted her nails to black. All in all, it was far easier than most of her other outfits demanded, but still adequate enough to appear refined and sophisticated.
Here, she showed off her elegance only to the three uniformed masters, Da Vinci, Tesla, Babbage, and Holmes. Fou quietly sat by the masters' feet too.
Even though the detective was very sharp, she still felt more refined than the four battle-clad servants, and took a hint of pride that Tesla eyed her briefly. She approached the masters, but it was Anishka who strolled up to her with a calm smile. The assassin secretly enjoyed how the Indian woman tried to hide her own glance of admiration at her form, but made no mention. "You said you had a craft coin for me?"
"Mhm. Thank you for coming. There's been a few adjustments to the system. It's already producing new items," she greeted as she held both hands out to present the golden coin.
She quirked an eyebrow at its simple but unusual design, all to emphasize the one individual. "…Is that Parvati?"
"We theorize it's her host," Babbage chimed in. "As for why she's in a swimsuit and underwater… or why that let it manifest… My computations can't arrive at a proper conclusion. What they have acknowledged is that it's more compatible for agile servants."
"And you only have two coins, sooo…" Gabrielle explained as she swung gently on her feet with a smile.
"I see…" she noted, but then sighed. "I won't say no to a gift, but now I have to figure out how to balance my shelf again. How troublesome…"
"You're welcome?" Gabrielle smiled sheepishly, and Da Vinci chuckled. "That's all! We didn't want to take up more of your time!"
"You can stick around for the last summoning if you want," Gudao offered, and before she could answer, Da Vinci calmly threw the lever with a mischievous smile. Gudao chuckled as Gabrielle's face faltered, "…Ah. Guess you don't get a second pull."
"I'm the Genius Director, so I should get a pull every now and then too~!" Da Vinci hummed. While Gabrielle complained about losing a pull, Carmilla stared towards the dance of prana. It started, so she may as well watch. She'd never actually seen it before. When the orbs turned took on the famous rainbow hue, she became more invested; Gabrielle complained more, and Da Vinci laughed in triumph. They were drowned out by the growing whirlwind that ended in a blinding explosion.
That's when she felt the restless aura, as the other no doubt had. She'd grown so accustomed to feeling it while being around Dantes, Joan, and sometimes that occasionally the annoying Angra; She'd say they were comfortable once you got used to it… but this… This was something else entirely.
This was a suffocating loathing from a fiery whirlwind of wrath.
As the blinding light began to fade, Da Vinci and Tesla swiftly jumped between the masters and the new arrival. A large silhouette formed, just as another leapt from its back to stand before them. Tesla's gauntlet crackled with lightning as Babbage's form hissed with steam. Holmes quietly strolled over to assist as his magnifying glasses whirred into position. Da Vinci's hand rested atop a small switch on her belt, one Carmilla knew would send Chaldea into full alert.
For fair reason too. The large form of the blue-furred beast was tense and volatile. It was like staring at a pile of dynamite after the fuse disappeared into its depths. Its hair was like flames that waved in the air as it breathed heavily with snarls. Golden eyes of unyielding anger glared past them, but remained planted on one in particular. Gabrielle couldn't help but stagger backwards in shock as the familiar beast glared her way.
She made the mistake of whimpering, even as Carmilla stepped up to her in a proper show of support. She didn't like the masters that much, to be honest. They were fair and generous, but she didn't find any reason to fully enjoy their company; She preferred the rich and noble, after all. That didn't mean she wasn't going to ignore a given plight either, because she definitely didn't dislike how accepting or understanding they could be.
Yet, she fell just as confused as everyone else when a Germanic disembodied voice raced telepathically through her mind. "Lobo! Calm yourself! Let me explain!"
The massive beast turned its glare towards its rider, who stood between them and the defensive Chaldeans. Without a doubt, the cry came from the headless horseman, who stood surprisingly regal and refined in the blackened leather garments of his mercenary uniform. His gloved hands were raised to the side like a weak barrier between himself and the mount, and though he also reeked of haunted malice, his demeanor clearly held far more promise.
"I don't take orders from you, Hessian! Not after you dragged me with you to this place! Not you! Not these filthy humans! And not that vile master!" the beast roared and growled within their mind as its eyes landed back on Gabrielle. "You…! You dare find a means to summon me after what you did!?"
"I-I…! We didn't have a choice!" Gabrielle stuttered. "What we did was awful, but we wanted to end you as painless-!"
"YOU CALLED THAT PAINLESS!?" it roared again, both with a howl and over the mental link. The room shook with the weight of its loathing presence, and Gabrielle whimpered quick apologies. Carmilla glanced at the other servants as Lobo stomped into a fighting crouch. Her royal scepter quickly appeared in her hands as Tesla's lightning levitating him off the ground. She'd never heard of a battle erupting from a summoning before, but it was clear she would participate in Chaldea's first. "I will rip you apart for what you've done!"
"}You will do no such thing. Stand down, Noble Beast of Gaia.{" Fou's loud little barks had confused Carmilla, but she fell more baffled when Lobo recoiled in surprise. It stared to the master's feet at Chaldea's furry little mascot. Fou stared back calmly while the others focused at the beast in wary guard. It barked again, "}Do not make a Beast of Calamity repeat itself. You are a king. Act like it.{"
Fou chirped in surprise when Lobo howled in anger, then growled towards it. The confusion that surrounded the others was remarkable, but Holmes rubbed his chin curiously with a tiny smirk aimed at Fou. Still, the little white critter recomposed itself as it glared down Lobo. The larger beast stared to all of them, then to Fou once more before it growled in their minds with a calmer tone. "…By Gaia, who are you… to get them on your side?"
Carmilla once more turned to the weak and feeble Fou with confusion. It was clearly the alpha among the other little critters, but it somehow had an effect on this rampaging wolf too? She felt left out like the others and it irritated her. She wanted to wipe Holmes' knowing smirk off his face; That damn genius knew something was up! Yet, his gaze turned wary as he faced the beast again.
Despite Fou's words, it was not placated. It growled in hatred, even as battle-ready servants appeared around the room from spiritual form. Gudao and Anishka stared in confusion until Scathach and Medb appeared by Gabrielle's side. By then, it clicked for Gudao, "You called for help?"
"I can see why… The mangy mutt has arrived," Medb spat as she glared at the unruly new arrival. Yet, as her gaze turned to the headless horseman, the man fully turned to the masters and surprised the defending servants. He courteously bowed, and Carmilla could not scrutinize a hint of inelegance in his act; It was very well practiced. How strange for a supposed simple mercenary.
"I beg your pardons, masters. You'll have to forgive Lobo. His hatred is both understandable and unfortunate." The beast growled dangerously at its own companion, but Hessian ignored him. "It's a pleasure to meet you on finer terms, no? You may call me Franz, Hessian, or even the Headless Horseman, as you please. I request you treat the King of Currumpaw kindly as well. He's miffed by your last acts, but I'm sure we can manage something more civil after we've smoothed the waters."
"…My. What refinement. Truly commendable." Carmilla turned to the smooth voice as Dantes walked past her. He tipped his hat and smiled her way, and she returned the kind gesture with a smile of her own. It then turned to a teasing smirk as Joan scowled her way as she followed him, then huffed in irritation; She was too easy sometimes. "I was concerned working with you two may be difficult. Am I safe to assume you two are still an Avenger pair?"
"I'm not working with any of you. Get that through your thick skulls," Lobo's growl echoed in their mind, making Dantes' small smirk falter into a stoic stare.
Hessian walked back to his companion, shook his torso like a shake of the head, then bowed again to Dantes. His voice echoed in their minds. "I'm afraid things will still be complicated. We share a saint graph, but I think cooperation will take a little more finesse. A parley must certainly be in order."
The beast growled telepathically again. "I will not negotiate with lowly humans… being bound with you is already unacceptable."
Carmilla glanced to Angra Mainyu as he scratched his head nearby, all while the other servants remained mostly tense. Though his roars and howls had calmed down, Lobo's sheer killing intent still tingled her skin. The air was thick with its malice, and its words weren't hollow; Despite whatever Fou did, this beast was on a hair-trigger that not even its rider could control. It may very well wind up attacking someone in the facility if left uncheck, and she doubted there was a single person in the room who was ignorant of that.
It had only been a matter of time until the balanced peace was challenged again, yet she had to wonder as she stared at the quietly talking masters.
"I'm sorry… I just got really scared," Gabrielle whispered as Gudao gently hugged her in support.
"It's fine… I just hope this doesn't give the wrong first impression," her best friend murmured back. "It's the Chaldean way. Everyone gets a chance. Even Lobo."
"Maybe Fou or another animal can relate with it? It doesn't like us, but maybe they can help negotiate?" Anishka offered quietly while Holmes quietly eyed them and nodded slowly. His small smirk was returning as he chuckled, earning a curious stare from Babbage.
Carmilla couldn't help her blank stare either, but she couldn't hide the wondrous, and incredulous, feeling in her gut. Their acceptance and willingness to try was truly foolhardy, yet Lobo wouldn't be their first attempt. She'd seen it herself projected in the Roman Theater. Despite heinous actions and who the servant was in their past, they actually dared to overlook it for the bigger picture. They dared to believe they were still someone, no matter what they did… that there was rhyme and reason, and they may simply be misunderstood.
It's the same reason Anishka offered her to come. Despite meeting copies of her multiple times, they gave her a trial to see if she liked Chaldea, not if they liked her. Who she was didn't matter, because they believed in what could be. It was ridiculously naïve and foolhardy, but all around her, she saw countless evidence for them to keep believing in the impossible; She was one herself.
Thus, Carmilla turned to the growling and hateful beast that stared at the servants around it, but didn't attack… likely only because of survival instinct. She wondered if Lobo would be the first failure, and Hessian taken with it. Maybe the opposite happened, and he would find his own little niche; The assassin couldn't see it in her mind, and she pondered how the masters could. Regardless, he was the new hostile challenge in a previously stable and calm environment.
…Yet, a tiny part of her wanted to see another terrible fit find a welcome home in their ranks, just like she had.