carmilla introducing vaggie to her girls. misscarriage
Carmilla: girls, theres someone i want you to meet
Clara: moma, we already know vaggie
Carmilla: si, but im introducing her as your sister
clara passed money over to odette: told you itd take less than a year for her to adopt her
carmilla: not quite adoption, remember when we died i was pregnant?
Odette and Clara return to the compound later that evening, filthy and covered in grime from a full day of excavating angelic weapons. They can't believe the sheer number left behind this time. Thanks to Charlie and the others at the hotel, there were more angelic bodies than Sinners; carrying not only weapons, but covered in armor. The sisters are tired but excited to get back to work the next day, to dig into the secrets their discoveries may uncover, and see what they can create from them.
After cleaning up, they notice the building is surprisingly quiet. Carmilla said she had work to do, and would wait up for them. The dark expanse of the warehouse is eerie, and their footsteps echo as they make their way to Carmilla's makeshift apartment on the second floor. They can see from the lights in the doorway that she's still awake; or at least still there, so they can tell her what they'd found. Upon opening the door, however, the two quickly realize their mother isn't alone. It's that girl...Charlie's partner. Vaggie. Sitting at their mother's side, Carmilla's hand on her knee, talking like they've known each other for years.
Carmilla is...smiling. And so is Vaggie. Odette and Clara stop in the doorway, staring at the two, puzzled, until they are noticed. Carmilla and Vaggie immediately stop talking when they see their visitors; Vaggie even shifts away a little, embarrassed. Carmilla stands abruptly, rubbing the back of her head with her claws awkwardly, but ultimately gesturing toward her daughters to come in.
"Girls," Carmilla says, a little catch in her voice. "Welcome back. You've met Vaggie, haven't you?"
"Yeah," Clara says, as she and Odette enter and shut the door behind them. "We met when we delivered that custom order to the snake man at the hotel. How's the weapon working, by the way?"
"Umm..." Vaggie flinches a little when Clara brings up Sir Pentious. She has such a look of profound sadness on her face at the mention of him, like she wants to cry. There's such a drastic change in the angel's demeanor, Odette awkwardly clears her throat and tries to change the subject.
"You're that angel that's dating Charlie, right? How are you feeling? Are you recovering okay? You had such a nasty scrape with the Exterminators."
"Oh! Yes," Vaggie says, seemingly surprised Odette would ask how she’s doing. “I’m doing a lot better, thank you. Charlie’s been taking care of me. And, uh...Carm--your mom, too.”
Vaggie’s voice is so much smaller and softer than either Odette or Clara remember. She’d been so full of energy and authority at the hotel; directing all the residents and keeping them out of trouble. It’s surprising this is the same woman in front of them now, acting all meek and mild in front of their mother. Hadn't she challenged her just several days prior? What happened since then?
"You've sure been spending a lot of time with Mama lately," Clara says, putting voice to the obvious. It's not so much an accusation, as an observation. There's no suspicion or malice in Clara's voice, just a lilt of a...question? Odette's thinking the same thing, if she's honest. Carmilla's been spending a lot of time with the angel. She doesn't mind, but...she also can't escape the feeling that something else is going on. Something she's not being told.
"Did you adopt her or something, Mom?" Odette asks, chuckling, trying to lower the tension building in the room. "She's strong. We could always use an extra hand around here."
The silence that permeates the space at her comment shocks Odette to her very core. Suddenly, both Vaggie's and her mother's eyes spike open, like Odette just mentioned someone had died. The change in their demeanor is palpable. Vaggie turns away, as if she's unable to look at the sisters anymore. Carmilla stutters again, trying to find her voice. She's been doing that a lot lately, where Vaggie is concerned. Carmilla can't seem to find the words to explain, and Odette and Clara don't know the right questions to get answers out of her.
"What? What did I say?" Odette looks at her mother, concerned. Carmilla looks like she's about to cry.
"It's not like that, mija," Carmilla says, unconvincingly. Oh shit, Odette notices, she is crying. "Umm, girls...come sit with me for a minute. Please? I need to tell you something."
They do. Vaggie moves out of the way so Odette and Clara can sit on the futon next to their mother. Carmilla reaches for the angel, too, trying to draw her in, but Vaggie just turns away, her back to the rest of them. She looks so small again, like she's curling in on herself. Carmilla looks like she wants to say something, but thinks better of it, and draws her attention back to the other girls.
"Clara. Odette. I'm going to say something, and I need you to...to keep an open mind. Can you do that for me?"
"Of course, Mom," Odette says, getting concerned at this line of questioning. "What's wrong? You know you can tell us anything, right?"
"Yeah! Whatever it is, we can take it. We're worried about you." Clara chimes in. As if her mother would ever doubt their resolve. Carmilla should know them better than that by now.
Carmilla pauses, for an unusually long time. Odette sees her trying to find the right words to say. Carmilla's hand then lowers, and she's...she's rubbing her midsection, over her pubic bone. Over her belly, like when she was...
Carmilla sighs, choking up again, but decides to just go for it anyway.
"All those years ago, when...when we died? Do you remember that I was...that I was with, aahhh...what state I was in?"
"You were pregnant, Mom," Odette says, squeezing her mother's hand, choking up at the memory. Carmilla had just found out, not even a few weeks prior. They hadn't even had time to celebrate. Her baby shower had been months away, and then their lives had been taken from them, snatched away like a thief in the night. "Of course we remember. You can say it. How could we forget?"
"Do you remember when we finally woke up, and how long it took for me to remember how we were killed? Clara, do you remember what you asked me?"
"I asked you what happened to the baby, and you said you didn't know. That it was just gone... Wait, Mama, hey! Are you okay? What's the matter?"
Carmilla catches them both off guard. She is actually sobbing now, out of nowhere. Face in her claws, digging them into into her forehead, and leaving red welts on the skin there. Her body shakes, wracked with grief, as if she's finally letting it all out, like she's been holding it together. For them. She probably has.
"I..." Carmilla starts, tears streaming between her fingers. "I can't! I'm sorry--I can't!"
Carmilla starts breathing rapidly, in-between sobs, like she's hyperventilating. Odette can't remember the last time she's seen her mother this way. Not since...
She and Clara are on their feet in an instant, about to wrap their mother up in their arms, and console her. Hug her, hold her, or...something. Anything, to get her to calm down and tell them what's going on.
They would have, anyway, except suddenly, Vaggie is there, already doing it for them.
"Carmilla, hey!" Vaggie says, squeezing Carmilla's shoulders from behind, much more level-headed and put together than the moment prior. She almost looks like she's back to her normal self. Brave...or at least she's trying to be. "Carmilla! Carmilla, stop! It's okay. You don't have to do this."
"I do!" Carmilla shouts, turning her head to look at Vaggie. The angel is surprised -- the matriarch's eyes are glowing. But around the edges, they've softened, and there's so much blue mixed in with the red.
Odette notices, too. Carmilla's eyes haven't been that way since...well, since they were alive. Like...like the human part of her is trying to fight to the surface. Resurrected by memories; ones she's being forced to recall, that she might rather have forgotten, to spare herself the pain.
"I have to tell them, Vaggie. They need to understand."
"Understand what, Mom?" Odette asks. She knows she shouldn't keep asking this. It's stupid. It's obviously hurting her mother. Odette's probably pushing a line here, that shouldn't be crossed, and she knows it. But her curiosity is killing her, all over again, and she just can't help herself. She needs to know what's wrong, so she and Clara can fix it.
Vaggie surprises her again.
"Let me do it, then," Vaggie says, forcefully, insisting, trying to get Carmilla to see reason. "You've been so strong for me. You've helped me so much. Let me do this for you."
"Vaggie, you don't have to...please, just give me a moment. I can--"
"No. This is hurting you. I want to help." Then, without hesitation, the angel looks at Odette and Clara, straight in the eye. Odette sees pain there, too; so much pain, and loss, but Vaggie pushes past it, and tells them, point-black, "It's me! Carmilla lost her baby, and it was me! All the Exorcists! We're lost children! We all died before we were born! They did tests on your blood when I was in the hospital, and you're all a match! Carmilla is my mother. You're my sisters! I know this may be hard to believe, and I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but you have to--!"
Vaggie doesn't get a chance to finish her tirade. Suddenly, a body collides into her front, wrapping its arms around her snuggly, in an almost too-tight bear hug. The angel stumbles on her feet, and may have toppled onto the floor, if the other person hadn't caught her.
That's when Vaggie notices the other person who has her is Clara, her arms grasped around her middle, with her face buried in the fallen angel's neck.
"I knew it!" Clara proclaims into Vaggie's skin, letting go of the smaller woman just enough to look back at Odette, sitting on the futon with their mother in a shocked stupor. Carmilla is looking at them, too. "I fucking told you, Odette! I fucking told you!"
Odette stands, and then immediately collapses to her knees. Despite her addled brain, despite her racing mind, and despite the absolute lack of belief she's experiencing in that moment, she still has enough of her wits about her to say, "Shit...sis, you were right."
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Let's Play Pretend
A/N: Karlach really wanted to make her thoughts known and this was the result. Full length on AO3 and as always happy reading
A/N2: If you ever wanna see specific scenarios feel free to poke my inbox :) im enjoying seeing where this goes
Let's Play Pretend
Gale tugged at the sleeve of his robe once more. He used to enjoy going to parties, granted it was often because he was performing feats of magic most people could only dream of doing. But the conversation was also stimulating.
He wasn't meant to rub elbows with Lords and Ladies. Or rather, he didn't want to. And he was really only there because-
“Gale!”
Gale let out a soft oof and chuckled as he was enveloped in Karlach’s arms. He hugged her back. She smelled less of sulfur and the hells this time around. More like oranges and sandalwood. It’s warm, but not a burning type that might sear his skin if he’s not careful. It’s comfortable.
Familial.
She was happy as they let go of each other. And he admired her choice of attire. Simple, elegant and entirely her. Her dress, Gale notes, is in the Ravengard house colors. Form fitting, sleeveless but with thin straps over her shoulders and a slit up the left side to show off her toned legs.
“Do you like it?” She does a small twist this way and that. “It was the least god-awful thing I could get them to make me. No movement in anything else ya know? What happens if we have to go into battle?”
“And what would we be fighting?” Gale asked.
“These stuffed up tarts,” she answered. “Minus Wyll and his father.”
“If I’d known we’d be doing that, I would have brought my quarterstaff,” Gale joked. She smiled and leaned against the wall next to him with her arms crossed over her chest.
“How ya been Gale? Feels like ages since we’ve seen each other,” she nudged his shoulder.
“Just about a year I think,” he nodded and sipped his wine. “How have you been?”
“Oh you know, fighting imps, killing demons…found a forge master fixed my engine right up,” she grinned and tapped her chest. “Part of the reason we're here. Wyll’s been a real friend, keeping up with me in Avernus and first thing I told him once my engine got fixed and could survive out here, we'll take a break so he can spend time with his dad.”
They both looked over and saw Wyll talking with his father. Both Ravengard’s enjoying each other's company.
“I ain't complaining about the break either. Even got my own little private villa,” Karlach grinned. “And his dad really knows his cigars.”
Gale smiled. “I'm glad. You deserve it Karlach. You both do.”
“So where's Fangs?” She asked. “Figured he'd be all up for a chance to rub elbows with all these stiffs.”
“He had some business to take care of. We agreed to meet here,” Gale answered. He drank more wine and scanned the room for one of the servers with another tray of glasses.
“And things are good with you two?” She asked.
He doesn’t miss the inquiring tone of her voice, borderline skeptical.
“Of course, why wouldn't they be?” He asked.
“Just, two of you, kinda sudden ya know? We all go our separate ways then Withers gets us all together and you and Astarion are living together, engaged. I mean fucking hell, am I gonna come back after another year to find out you two adopted or something?”
Gale snorts into his wine and coughs. He quickly sets the glass on the table to keep from spilling the remainder all over himself and a few people are looking their way. Karlach usher’s him outside to one of the emptier balconies patting his back.
She’s joking. He knows she’s joking but god’s does that still make him squirm. Marriage, even one of willing convenience is one thing. But a child? He wouldn’t even subject Tara to this kind of life let alone a child.
She winced and checked over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t being watched by prying eyes.
“Sorry, sorry,” she apologized. “Bad joke?”
He coughed and took the napkin she offered to wipe his mouth, and let out a potentially strangled laugh. “Just a bit Karlach.” He patted her shoulder. “And...it just sort of happened.” He wanted his wine.
“Alright well, how?” She asked.
“What do you mean?” He frowned.
“You say it just sort of happened, but you've never actually answered the question. Even then, ‘oh ya know, just one of those whirlwind things’,” she tried to imitate his voice. “‘You know Astarion, he’s never one to do things half-assed.’ ‘Just swept me off my feet…’”
“My voice is not that high,” he crossed his arms over his chest and caught the engagement ring in question on his finger.
Gold band with ruby center. Diamond’s set on either side. It’d been enchanted, so the only way it was coming off was if Astarion wanted it off or Gale cut off his own finger. He just didn’t have the nerve.
“It kinda is,” she replied.
He ran a hand through his hair. “There isn’t much to tell Karlach. It really sort of just…happened. I was surprised as you were but, when he looked at, when he asked me, when he…when he told me, I suppose I got caught up in it all. Isn’t that what they say love is supposed to feel like? Like your hearts caught in a vice?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” Karlach put her hand on his shoulder.
“There you are!”
They parted as if burned. Astarion stood in the open doorway with his hands on his hips. Red eyes flitting between Karlach and Gale. Her hand still hovered in the air from where it’d been on Gale’s shoulder.
Continue
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