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Nastya slammed the door shut behind her, storming out of the kitchen. The door flew open a moment later as Carmilla followed her. “Come back here! I am not finished speaking with you!”
“Well, I am!” They reached the living room. Feeling a hand brush her shoulder, Nastya rolled her eyes, huffed, and spun around. “I don’t want to talk about it!”
“Tough! We are going to talk about it.” Carmilla took in a deep breath, apparently trying to steady herself. “You stay on the ship too much. It’s not healthy. You need to get out and see the worlds we travel to—”
“I don’t want to!”
“You can’t just stay in the ship all the time!”
“Yes, I can!”
“Listen to me—”
“No!”
“Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova!” Carmilla paused, taking in a few deep breaths. “You’re acting like a child —”
Nastya laughed, throwing her arms out. “Of course I am! I died when I was 19! And now, thanks to you, I’m going to be 19 forever !”
Carmilla threw her hands in the air. “Would you have rather I let you die?”
“No!”
“Then why are you mad at me?!”
“I don’t know!” Nastya screamed. Carmilla recoiled, fear briefly flashing in her eyes. Nastya wrapped her arms around herself, trying to fight back the tears that were rising in her eyes. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
A moment passed in silence. Carmilla stepped forward, moving closer to Nastya. When Nastya didn’t move away, Carmilla stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her. Nastya let out a shuddering sob and leaned into Carmilla. Hugging Carmilla was different than hugging Jonny—largely because Carmilla was actually at eye level with Nastya. But she was gentler, too. Nastya just allowed herself to lean against her, sobbing into her chest. “I wish I wasn’t immortal sometimes,” she whispered.
Carmilla let out a humorless laugh. “I know. Me, too.”
Nastya pulled back, wiping her eyes. “If you know that being immortal is this hard, why did you mechanize Jonny and me?”
Carmilla opened her mouth, then closed it. She paused for a moment, then spoke with something approaching guilt in her eyes. “I was very, very lonely.”
“Oh.” Nastya wrapped her arms around herself. “Kind of seems like a shitty reason to make someone immortal.”
Carmilla raised an eyebrow. “Would you have done it differently?”
Nastya stared at Carmilla for a moment, then looked away. She didn’t know what to say to that. Maybe she didn’t know the answer. Maybe she did and she just didn’t want to admit it.
Finally, she looked back up at Carmilla. Maybe, she began to realize, she and Carmilla weren’t as different as she thought. Carmilla flinched at loud noises, at rapid movement. Carmilla had that brief flash of fear in her eyes when people yelled at her. And Nastya couldn’t be positive, but she swore that there were nights when she passed Carmilla’s room and heard crying.
That being said, Nastya Rasputina had never been good at admitting when she was wrong, so she chose not to vocalize her newfound realizations. “I’m sorry I yelled,” she said instead.
Carmilla nodded. “Thank you. I’m sorry, too.” She sighed. “You don’t have to leave the ship if you don’t want to, Nastya. But I worry about you. I don’t want you to spend eternity hiding out in a ship when you could be exploring the stars.”
Nastya shrugged, looking away. “I’ll think about it,” she said quietly.
Carmilla sighed. “I suppose that’s all I can ask for now. It’s late, you should get some sleep.”
The part of Nastya that loved to be contrary wanted to insist that she didn’t need to sleep yet, but her traitorous body interrupted her with a yawn. She frowned. “Fine. Goodnight, Carmilla.”
“Goodnight, Nastya. Sleep well.”