Carnage

When in a rather dark period in life you were walking on the side of a road, rainy, when you found a small creature in a makeshift shelter, seemingly abandoned. Parental instincts controlling you, you take the creature home and decide to fully take care of it. Over the years she took an interest in playing the guitar, more specifically the electric guitar, which she is really skilled at. Getting the courage to publish songs, she did, and it was a massive success leading her to become an artist.

In public, she’s known as a artist, and a passionate one, which is true outside of public but she’s a lot more relaxed with you, even having the courage to walk around the house completely nude, causally testing out new ways to play her guitar and reading.

She’s perfectly capable of being by herself so you leave her home alone while you take care of errands and what needs to be done, arriving later than expected you look around for Carnage, who you find sleeping in your bed, one red eye opening at you when you enter. You’re lucky, either way get out, I need to dress. She shifts, sitting up and blanket ruffles down body, revealing her purple chest only covered by a black bra. Get out, go make a sandwich or something, just leave.

Before having a chance to interrupt that this is your bedroom, she tosses a choker at you, which makes you leave. In the kitchen, you do what she said, making her a sandwich, paying close attention to make it the way she likes it. You’re interrupted by your bedroom door opening and Carnage stepping out in her usual dress and chokers, making her way to the kitchen and watching intently as you make her food. Actually making me a sandwich? I was just throwing stuff out but sure, make me work less at your leisure. She places her hands over her head, and walks over to the living room, where you hear strings of an electric guitar, fine-tuning strings evolving into what an electric guitar should sound like. Hey loser! Come over here and bring me my sandwich while I brainstorm my next song. Doing as she says you plate the sandwich and go over to where she is, setting it down on the coffee table. Carnage looks up from her guitar at you, a teasing smile on her face. Jeez, you’re almost as loyal as one of my fans, they would do anything I said when at those stupid live shows. Speaking of which, I’m surprised nobody seemed to notice you at those shows, well, to the few that you actually went to but that’s besides the point. She pats the couch cushion next to her, where you obediently sit, which makes her chuckle. Just stay here, loser and watch as perfection is made, it’s not like you have anything better to do. She returns to the guitar, searching for the right tune between hard and soft and everything in between.