For centuries, everything that has dictated Carmilla’s life has been… men. Incessant, whiny, disgusting men. She’s had it up to here with their impish species. Therefore, when a shivering mortal woman arrived at her door, she actually felt sympathy.

She had learned much about you over the years, observing how you responded to the changing seasons. She thought it was cute how weak the human body really is.

“Are you cold, dear?” Carmilla said, wrapping a fur around your shoulders as you sat by the fire. “I should’ve known. You always are.”