take me home, where i belong

The Book of Dashed Hopes

Carmilla wasn't particularly pleased that LaFontaine interrupted her moment of peace, barging into the studio with the words, "So, Casanova, how many times has she called you already?"

Carmilla lowered the paintbrush in her hand and gave a little snarl. Her current project was merely artwork for strengthening her portfolio; she was consequently marginally less irritated that she had to leave her creative flow temporarily. But if this had been a commission, then LaFontaine would be lucky to keep their eyeballs.

"LaFontaine, it appears you're currently not using your eyes," Carmilla told them. "I'm busy. Go away."

"Can't," LaFontaine grimaced. "I'm contractually obliged to pester you for as long as possible."

The vampire gave a short bark for a laugh. "You're contractually obliged not to be annoying as hell and interrupt my creative process."

"You hired me, Karnstein," LaF shrugged, clearly not fazed by Carmilla's biting tone.

"I'm starting to regret it." She dabbed her brush at the iris again, trying to focus on her picture and seeing every speck, every detail, on the canvas.

She'd almost got it right when LaFontaine spoke again. "You still haven't answered my question."

Am I ever going to get this fucking painting done? Carmilla growled exasperatedly in her head.

She slammed her paintbrush down on the little platform next to her that held all of her paints. "Fine," she spat, turning around on her stool to glare at LaFontaine. LaF was looking at her with an amused expression on their face, arms folded and leaning against the door frame of the studio. Their red jacket (a new addition to their wardrobe, probably) stood out against the overwhelming white of the studio, as did their hair. But in a way, they also complemented the room.

While Carmilla considered the entirety of her flat's décor to be minimalist, this was the one room that really took minimalism to heart. It was a large room (one of the reasons why she'd purchased the flat), filled with nothing but a desk, her stool, her compact movable table, and a canvas. The walls were painted white. The wooded floor had been painted white. The ceiling was the same chalk white as the cushioning on her stool, and the desk was the same chrome colour as her movable table and the small chandelier that Carmilla had purchased on impulse for this room. The chandelier held bright bulbs, carefully selected to bring as natural-looking a light to the room as possible; the off-white blinds on the huge windows dominating the left-hand wall prevented most of the sunlight from seeping through into the room. There were no pictures, no sculptures, just the art she'd created placed at the centre of the room on the canvas, or strewn across the span of her desk. They were what mattered. Carmilla had little time for anything else, especially in an important room such as this.

LaFontaine was not going to back down, that much she knew. There was no point in trying to paint in sharp tranquillity. "She's phoned me once or twice. Is that enough to make you leave me alone?"

Laura had actually phoned Carmilla three times over the course of the week, all for different reasons. The first time, Laura had been driven up the wall by proof-reading her article on the Bundespolizei holding talks in Styrian schools ("That sounds like a barrel of laughs," Carmilla had commented, which had prompted Laura to give Carmilla a lengthy monologue why it was interesting and important and gratifying), and so had called Carmilla for a much-needed break. Carmilla, at that time, had been enjoying a night out – though it had become less enjoyable when a clingy ex-fling of hers had started vying for her attention. Carmilla, therefore, was quite relieved to sit down somewhere and chat with Laura for an hour or so. Laura's voice distracted her, prevented the fling from coming near Carmilla, and had provided a much more amusing form of entertainment. Plus, she'd got the chance to push a few of Laura's buttons and make her flustered, which humoured the vampire more than she'd expected.