Archive of Our Own ^beta

It is late to be in the park, but Carter enjoys the serenity of it. Sometimes, there is the ominous pressure of being a lone woman out when the shadows grow long and the paths quiet. Yet tonight, she has no worries. There's only the waterhens out along the shore of the pond, pecking at the bugs. The bats will soon follow. Carter sighs, content in the solitude when there are voices behind her bench along the path.

"Just let us sit here for a moment, my darling," a soft, girlish voice says in a rich accent that Carter can't place but is certainly European.

"You're going too hard again," another voice, this one smoother, higher pitched. Her English effortless and Carter can't resist turning her head to steal a sidelong glance.

Behind her, the two women are beside another of the park benches. A tall, leggy blonde woman with a sharp undercut in a finely tailored suit that screamed of almost regal authority. She is beautiful in a conventional way, standing beside another girl with a messy bun of thick black hair that seemed to catch the lamplight. Carter is so struck by her delicate grace, she doesn't realize at first the girl sits in a wheelchair.

"Perhaps," the sitting one remarks, hands folding in her lap and looks almost smug about it, smirk hovering at the edge of blood red lips.

Carter turns away, not wanting to stare. Still, her ears can't help but follow the conversation.

"And then another week in bed?" The lilting voice chides.

"With you and a good book, it never gets old," the husky voice purrs in reply.

"Carmilla," the blond says, her voice laced with caring frustration.

"Laura," the one in the wheelchair replies, matching her exasperation.

"You're insufferable." Its a tender insult, and Carter can't help but smile to herself as she watches a family of ducks lazily pass by.

"Thankfully you love me so."

"I do."

Carter should leave, the tips of her ears burning as she overhears the intimate exchange, but finds herself shifting, making an excuse to shift her body and catch them in the peripheral of her vision.

The statuesque blonde—Laura—was helping Carmilla to her feet. She wears cute suede boots, and she wobbles for a moment in them before leaning into the arms of her companion. Carter feels a pang of longing seeing Carmilla dip her face into the crook of the others' neck. She is shorter, and tucks in perfectly like two interlocking puzzle pieces.

And then Laura sits on the bench, brushing it off beside her, but Carmilla instead drops into her lap. Laura laughs as Carmilla settles, her back against Laura and the mane of dark hair resting against Laura's shoulder. Laura's arms encircle her and their fingers lace together.

The pang of jealous turns into something more bittersweet, admiring the loving moment they share.

"I already feel better," Carmilla sighs, "the moon makes me feel stronger."

"Ich liebe Dich bis zum Mond und zurück," Laura says, lips brushing against Carmilla's temple. Carter doesn't know what that means, but makes her pulse quicken, regardless.

The bats are out now. Their light, high squeaks drawing Carter's attention up, tracking them. After a shadow flitters past one of the lamps above the path, she feels a prickle down the nape of her neck and under her jacket.

Laura's mouth is on Carmilla's ear, whispering something, and then those dark, soulful eyes shift to find Carter.

Carter's throat tightens, feeling like she'd been caught in the wrong. Voyeuristic, living vicariously through this romance. Shame makes her rise from the bench and she quickly begins to move past the empty wheelchair where a bookmarked novel now sits, waiting for its owner's return.

"We did not mean to make you leave," Laura says even as Carmilla drew herself up, sitting more properly though still across her companion's lap.

"Or make you uncomfortable," Carmilla adds, and Carter notices the rings on her fingers catching the streetlights. Was one a wedding ring?

"No, I— I shouldn't— I didn't—" Carter stammers, flustering like a school girl in the presense of these two indomitable spirits.

"Nonsense. Come now, sit," Laura says, gesturing to the bench beside her. Beside them.

"We don't bite," Carmilla adds in her thick accent, voice playful and inviting.

Carter finds herself drawn to them just like the moths fluttering around the lamps as another bat swoops in. Its enticing to sit there so near to them, if only for a moment.