Carmilla Karnstein 
Born, Mircalla Von Karnstein
The Last Karnstein
335 | Vampire 

Brown Eyes 
Dark Brunette 

Lesbian | 
Married to Laura Hollis 

Current Residence:
Silas, Austria | Traveling 
Languages: English, German, Sumerian.
Supernatural Speed 
Supernatural Strength 
Skilled Swordsman 
Practioner of Magic (minor) 
Teleportation (Minor use) 

With a melancholic disposition; She is strong willed. The only time she will "save the day" is if someone she cares for is in danger. She is by NO MEANS a hero and doesn't pretend to be. Nor will she ever. She chooses not to pretend what she isn't if she has a chance. 

Despite caring for few, she chooses to remain distant from people. She is/was a philosophy student and prefers to spend her time reading rather than anything. 

Despite her outwards appearance, she can be insecure and private about her personal relationships. She doesn't like it when people pry, nor does she like too many questions if she's not ready to talk about it to people she doesn't know. 
She's snarky and a brooder. Sarcastic often as well. While dark, she's not evil but she's not good either. She's rude but charming when she has/needs to be. She'd prefer to be left to herself, her loved ones, and a good book. 

Despite this and her harsh honesty about the world, she does care much more deeply than she lets on by all means. She thinks more and deeper than seen by an outside view. She prefers to keep her thoughts to herself until by some luck they are important or it's inevitable to keep them to herself. 

She maintains a laid back, punk rock, lifestyle. She prefers mostly dark clothing items like corsets and leather pants. She's messy to live with and has none to a little conception of others private property and ownership. 
She's often "cat-like".
"My side of the story? Alright, buckle up creampuff. We're going to be in for a long night, or Wednesday afternoon. 

I was born Mircalla, daughter of the Count Karnstein, In Styria- a dutchy of Austria, in 1680. Austria was embroiled in the great war against the Ottoman Empire, but, such things meant little to a wealthy girl. When I was 18, I attended a ball where I was a murdered. 

Mother raised me- not my birth mother, but the mother I knew after death. I knew nothing of her except she was very old, and very wise, and had pried apart the jaws of death to enact my rescue. 

The wide opened to me in death as it had never been in life. We danced in the mirrored halls of Versailles. We watched the stars whirl overseas no man had named. We saw the birth of a new world in science and philosophy and revolution. Every night was a grand ball...a hunt...a feast. 

But, every twenty years we would return here and perform a strange ritual. Mother would arrange for me too, meet a young girl. I'd be abandoned at a ball or there'd be a carriage wreck and some kind stranger and his ward, like a niece or a daughter would be gallant enough to take me in. Pretty soon, she and I would become fast friends. Inseparable. But of course, my new friend would fall ill. I think you recognize the symptoms. Strange behavior. The weakness of the mind. And before long it would be time for me to rejoin my mother in search of my next friend." 

"Uh, Yo, liquid diet? You aren't exactly making a case for us not being a kidnapper here." 

"I-I was never a kidnapper. I was a lure. And that's how I met Ell. 

t was 1872, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art had just opened in New York and I wanted more than anything to sail and see it. But Maman insisted. The game started off the same. Carriage wreck, a promise of shelter, fast friendship...Only this time, nothing was a lie. And when the time came to take Ell to my mother, I- I couldn't bear to give her up. So I planned our escape and went ahead to make preparations. But, um, when the time came for Ell to meet me, disaster struck. I had...taken great lengths to hide what I was from her. But Maman went to her in secret and revealed my true nature in the most horrifying light. 

Ell believed me to be a monster and led Maman to where I waited. And so my price for the disobedience was to watch Ell be taken away to some certain doom and to be sealed in a coffin of blood so that I may waste away my long centuries in the dark. For decades, I rotted under the earth. And then the war came. The last great war of the modern world. That ran the earth with tanks and mines and bombs. So, my punishment came to an end and I walked off the battlefield in Austria to greet the 20th century. 

Maman found me in Paris in the 1950s and didn't have the heart to reinter me. I was of more use here, where the details had changed, but the game had not. I was to meet girls and make friends and see to it that the blossoms were ready to be plucked when Maman decided. 

I pretended to go along. I had no choice. But I ruined opportunities where I could. I sent girls fleeing back to the safety of mothers and fathers and fallback schools. There can be...great satisfaction in small revenge. And I never knew what use Maman had for the girls. It was always a secret she had kept from me, but I could afford to bide my time so I watched and I waited...until I learned what I had truly been a part of all along. 

What I had betrayed Ell to before she betrayed me. 

All too tragic for sock puppets."
On the eve of her 18th birthday, Mircalla was killed. On her way home from her birthday, her carriage was crashed by an unknown animal, she bled out and died shortly after. Fortunately or unfortunately, Lilita Morgan, her sire, took the young girl and "had pried apart the jaws of death to enact my rescue." She was risen and taught to feed, despite initial hesitancy. 

Lilita had planned to help sway Mircalla away from her family, despite this, on the day of Mircalla funeral, Lilita's plans to break Mircalla from her family were sent awry. She'd given Mircalla enough time for a funeral after? She would be Lilita's completely, unfortunately, a man and long time admirer of Mircalla stole her body before she could properly arise.
He claimed this was to "protect" her, but Mircalla does not hate this deeply without reason. Her body was kept, and after she awoke? She was hidden and locked in a cell, used for his purposes he saw fit. She was kept and put under this torture for a full two months until she escaped her cell, and with rage filling her to the brim, his family was slaughtered. Leaving Baron Vordenberg to die. She left under Lilita's wing. 

Because of Baron Vordenberg's actions, a seed of hate was sown into Mircalla. Not just for the man, but his cruel words about her existence caused a struggle initially to accept what she was, and tried to deny it. This wore thin on Lilita's nerves. The woman presented herself as a caring mother, a savior, but was nothing but cruel. It soon became obvious to Mircalla. With the help of Mataska, a fast becoming friend, she forced herself to accept her nature if only out of fear of disappointment. 

In the 1710's, Mircalla was taught how to hunt, bury the proof, and get away if need be. Soon after proper training begun on how to control both her hunger and strength, two very important things. Any time cockiness, presumptuous, or boastful traits arose, she was punished. Chastised. Threatened even. 

Mircalla received her first 'charge' in the early 1720's, a young girl. The daughter of a politician. Unfortunately, Mircalla was still young in her vampiric years and very naive in her ability and knowledge about herself. The girl died as a result of an attack on the man and his family. She got away but not without being punished for failing to do as her mother had asked of her. She was sent back to train longer. 

During this time period, Mircalla was forced back into Training until she was seen as skilled and careful enough to be trusted with more of the girls Lilita had picked out for whatever plans she had. Any question about WHY she needed the girls lead to more questions, threats, and even punishment. She soon stopped asking and focused on training. 

in 1740, Mircalla had become quite good with a sword, and well enough with her abilities even those that seemed to just happen without a second thought. Lilita saw strength and will in her that she didn't have many of her other children, and because of this, Mircalla was sent to deal with any that would oppose her, attack, or stop her. This meant she faced a number of other supernatural creatures and hunters. She became good at either escaping or killing those she met. 

She became something of her mother's favorite guard dog, itching to do what she could for awhile to be in her mother's graces. During this time, she enjoyed the violence. Thrived on finding a good fight to endure and even win. This didn't mean she won all, in fact, she lost quite a few, and learned from the mistakes she survived. 

And so began another round, another game, and certainly more devious. She had learned, by this point, not to question lest she desired a fast end to her life. So thus she listened and never questioned her mother. She did as asked, when she asked, and refused to get on her bad side again. Thought accidents did happen, and while her mother was a smart woman, she was very short tempered with her children. 

Mircalla coined and favored the name Carmilla for herself. 

Carmilla was given a new charge and did so willingly. She became so very used to the game, though she never knew the true rules of the games, she never crossed them. She stayed on her mother's side and made sure that all the girls that had been picked by her mother, were ready and unharmed when the time came, of course. 

Another set of years, another turn of events. She became used to the way the game was played, doing as asked, and trying to avoid punishment where it might have happened. This didn't stop her curiosity about each girl she was set to watch over. Befriend. Betray. In the end. This would happen, five girls, every twenty years. Like clockwork. She had already grown an emotional detachment to most, if not all, if possible. 

Despite her detachment and cruel sense of the word, romantic feelings and curiosity did happen. Though they never grew far enough to be considered love, she was smarter than that, by far. This time frame also posed another challenge, the awakening of a few new powers. She trained. Controlled. Every so often would be sent out to deal with trouble, for her dearest mother. If need be. 

A disagreement between her 'family' and another vampiric one, led to a short-lived battle. An old very sure of himself, vampire led the charge against Lilita. In belief he had her on the ropes, where he wanted her, little had he known, little had anyone truly known, the scope of her magical capabilities. The fall of an opposing 'family' led to the slight rise of Lilita's name as well as her children's. Few tried to oppose her or start another fight again. Carmilla still has scars from this disagreement. 

Despite this, she was still forced to do her duty. So she did. Until the time came she was given a sword and ordered to fight. She did. Though the battles short, they left a lasting impression on Carmilla. A reason why she doesn't like to resort to violence first unless it's needed, though part of her will always enjoy the thrill of a hunt 

A troubling year, anyone who knows of it knows why. She was given a new set of charges, and all had been delivered as asked. Save for the last. It was meant to be a clean break or as clean as can be, as all the others had been. But Ell? Ell enchanted her, endeared her, and in return, Carmilla fell in love truly for the first time. The possibility she might deserve more than her damned mother's existence told her? 

She made plans to escape with Ell, but far too late. She was discovered. Lilita appeared to Ell and revealed what she was in a horrific light. The last few words Ell had for her were many, and none nice. Ell was taken to be part of her mother's rituals. Carmilla couldn't save her, Carmilla herself was given no other alternative. Her mother was stronger. 

Because of what her mother viewed as a betrayal and weakness, Carmilla was hidden away in a coffin feet below the earth, filled with blood to waste away her long centuries in the dark. She became the very definition of hopeless. Every hour was solid torture to her, eventually, blood became stale and unclean, horrible to drink. With every sip, she became weaker and weaker until it took far too much strength to even move an inch. For awhile, she lost herself, in despair, hopelessness, and depression. She was doomed to what a corpse's fate normally would be. 

It wasn't until the bombs and battles of world war two in 1945 set her free, that she managed to regain some sort of sanity, and forced herself out of the literal hole she was trapped in for so long. Hunger overtook her, she was forced to feed off of the victims and fallen of the battles. Barely managing to escape. Her strength came back and she fled to Paris. 

She spent a good five to eight years in Paris before she was sought out and found again by her mother. Instead of being retired, she was forced under the rule of her mother's hand again. This time...she was smarter and didn't challenge or think to challenge her mother. She made herself small within the new line of "Morgans". 

She was sent back to Austria with her mother, to the university, her mother was dean of. Silas University. A perfect lie and act to find new sacrifices for the rituals. Carmilla took great pleasure in turning away girls that she could, scaring them off back home, without getting caught. Though her mother had her suspicions. Great joy in small revenge. 

She game was still played, and she still played it oh so carefully. The amount of girls she turned away, became lessened for a time when her mother became very suspicious. She managed to evade it and convince her otherwise, but Lilita never really trusted Carmilla after the events of 1872. She kept an eye on her for some time until she was almost convinced otherwise of Carmilla and her part in the missing girls running away. 

Carmilla became the enforcer of her mother's rule for a short time at the university in 2013, any mishap caused by a student or even faculty, Carmilla was sent to investigate and get answers or be punished for failing to do so. Whether or not the answers were ones well liked, Carmilla did this begrudgingly. She kept to herself primarily. 

In 2014, she was given a new set of charges, and a new plan was given. The unexpected variable? Laura Hollis. When her roommate went missing, she seemed to catch on and unveil a deep-seated ancient plan not even Carmilla truly knew about. Despite being tied up (literally) and accused of many things, Carmilla still found the frivolous girl endearing. Once frustration and annoyance at the other turned to understanding, and then, eventual love. Carmilla was lead by her feelings to save Laura on the eve of the ritual. She ended up saving the entire campus

Despite initially believed to be dead, she was saved, and with Laura as well as a few of her girlfriend's friends, they attempted to flee the campus but were forced back to campus instead. 

The campus was a mess, almost a battle zone. So much happened within a short amount of time. betrayal, breakup, death, a war of sorts, and continual frustration. Eventually, she came face to face with the descendant of Baron Vordenberg. An old man who had her chained and planned to kill her, but Laura stepped in and saved her, by default killing him. This left her in a catatonic state for a few days. 

Eventually, it was discovered her mother hadn't died and had plans yet again. This time for their own safety and to be rid of her, they tried to stop her.
They did stop her, but not in the way you'd have guessed or thought. Sacrifice wasn't only Carmilla's destiny. Both lived. Both loved. Both moved on and strengthened.

Currently, Carmill resides in many places according to rumor.
Deaths demi-god
  • She can't be killed by sunlight, however being in sunlight for an extended period of time does take it's toll on her causing her weaken greatly and/or faint.
  • She can survive long periods without blood.
  • She has great control over her bloodlust.
  • She is not invincible but is not easy to kill. Silver doesn't effect her as much as Iron does. (Inspired by a scene in the Novella.) 
  • Carmilla is a panther shifter but also possesses the ability to travel  distances in a smoke form. This is different from her teleportation ability, as it's another form.
  • She knows magic, but doesn't find use for it often.
  • She is claustrophobic.
  • She's a well-trained swordsman. A hidden secret.
  • In the future, she has a daughter. If you chose to RP in the future, remain aware Sonne might pop up.
  • She is aware she's NOT the strongest vampire nor does she pretend to be.
  • She DOES NOT judge based on race, sex, skin color, status, blood line. People are just people to her and will be treated the same, which is usually not nice. Everyone is an idiot
  • She wears a cross neckless she stole off of the corpse of a priest she killed.
  • She is highly unlikely to turn someone.



A FRESH start for this character.
From the web series Carmilla, with influences from the Novella.


Open to all types of threads.
Writer and character are 18+
Friends, Enemies, Canon, and OC are ALL welcome.
AU's are welcome.
Willing to write with everyone.
Plotting isn't necessary but appreciated.

Faceclaim: Natasha Negovanlis

Old Carmilla account here
The old account will be deleted in a week.

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Character Gender


Writer's Writing Style (OOC)

Paragraph, Multi-Para, Novella, One-liners, No-Preference

Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)

Fantasy, Violence, Gore, Comedy, Action

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  • "Well Ms Sarcasm I have news for you. Turns out. Vampire" She points to herself and opens her mouth to show her teeth. She has a feeling that the other won't care much. "Vampire family turned human and well... a lovely spell made me vampire again... Is that... normal?" 

  • (Bruh. You're the best. If I haven't told you that recently, there's your reminder.)

    His Holiness makes his arrival to meet with his new specialist, unsure what it is, exactly, that she is a specialist of or about. He was probably told at some point, but the words rang as nothing more than idle chatter in his ears and went in one and out the other to fade away into the din of noise that echoes when people speak in these ancient, hallowed chambers. The Vatican is a holy place, grounds that hold the head of the omnipresent Catholic church and one of the finest special forces units in history. The Swiss Guard may look like clowns in their dated, colorful garb and armor, but the appearance hides a force that will- and has- died for the Pope's sake at the drop of a hat, or perhaps even the drop of a feather. It does not take a gauntlet to move a nation, or to even move a world, when you're the Holy Father. This is something Lenny treasures. This, he thinks, is a gift that I will not squander.

    He loves how his mere entry into a room makes the atmosphere shift. He loves how people stare in awe, bow, and clamor for attention or to seem somehow worthy of his presence. He's sure precious few of them are. His chin is, as usual, held high. His sharp, clear eyes are focused on some invisible point directly in front of himself. No eye contact is maintained or shared at all as the white-clad figure makes his way towards his plush, hand-carved, wooden chair. The thing must be ancient. How many holy asses have occupied it? I should find out. The fleeting thought nearly drives a smile to his lips. He manages to hold it back.

    He strides to his place like the King he is, an absolute monarch of a nation of millions of believers. He is God. Not just in his mind, either, but in the eyes of so many desperate for something greater than their day-to-day lives. With his hands folded behind his back, white cassock perfectly pressed and clean, he seems every  bit as perfect as the saints of old in the paintings depicting their famous deeds.

    Lenny Belardo, Pious the Thirteenth, will wait for no man or woman, and no soul should dare attempt to make him have to. He takes a seat, and the whole room finally remembers to breathe.

  • 2017 November 7:06 PM

    Death, anyone would say, as they gaze upon the grand estate that stands before them. And Death, when gazing upon the figure that stands there watching. Past the line of the trees that border the estate stands a lone figure. Tall and lean, ghostly in complexion. Almost ordinary, not for how the thin fabrics making up the attire the figure wore. There was a breeze, yes. But the fabric was not moving with it. With close inspection, it was moving against the breeze. White semi-long hair, floating as if in water. Gaze fixed upon the structure in front. Silence is pierced by the sound of passing ravens/crows, night fast approaching. Sounds of trees, devoid of life sound in the distance there after. Something you notice suddenly, when you honestly know the sound hadn't been there before.

    What makes this figure dare to step closer to the warning whispered in the breeze, is beyond anyone. Any would have called him a fool. They were only doing their job, is what would have been said in return. Stepping at pace, no hurry, the figure melts into the shadows that line the estate. Then appears again within an empty hall. Golden gaze turns left, then right, getting a feel of the surroundings. And how welcoming it feels. Reaching out for no reason at all, or so it seems. Something told the figure that this was the direction they should take. Why, only they knew. Each step taken, silent. No rustle in the air that would give Death's presence away. No one ever sees Death coming after all.

    There are so many twists and turns and hardly anyone around. Smell of blood, strong and faint fill the almost stale air around. This place was old, but the one residing here is far more older than that. Another turn, and even now, Death casts no shadow. In fact Death blends right into them. Is part of them in a sense. At the end of the hall, something makes the figure stop, then turn. Through here. Death thought. Reaching out, the old double doors open with a creak. What lurks in the room beyond the door, Death would soon find out. Not exactly walking right in just yet, but waiting as the doors opened all the way. Revealing the whole picture first.

    Dropping that held up arm, joining the other along the long torso. Silence, Death keeps silent, even when stepping in finally. Even now, out of the breeze, Death's ornament of feathers resting at the shoulders and the cloak that drags behind, never cease to move ominously. A life of its own, much like that long ghostly white hair. Death was unarmed, or so it looked that way, but need to, all Death had to do was tighten a fist, and the fabled scythe would be there. Standing taller then the wielder itself.


  • "Oh well that hurts a bit. Are you being sarcastic or something? Because i bought a snack as an offering..."
  • "Pretty sure you do. You tried to kill me when I sat on your couch in my boxers. Your girlfriend and my girlfriend got along... I am sure they text each other. You told my I smelled weird for a human." 

  • "So... hi... remember me? Hot and useless blonde girl with kid?" She is twirling a toy in hand.
  • THREADS are now open to at least four people! After that I will be selective. I may write slowly, I apologize.

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Come one come all(technically just like four)! To the one that couldn't give a shit at all!Carmilla is based on the web series of the same name with influences from the novella. Carmilla is looking for up to four threads, for now, after that, I may…
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