Self-Image

“How do I describe myself?” Carmen sighed; a soft little thing that was sure to be missed by any who weren’t paying close attention. She swirled the toothpick around in her drink, fully aware that she could have easily used a claw to mix it instead. The olive on the end glared up at her accusingly. She donned a sly grin as she turned back to the other inquisitive kalon, eyelashes fluttering in what was sure to be a flattering gesture. “Well, doll, I’m a demon, plain and simple.”

Carmen is a demon, and she doesn’t shirk from that. On the outside, she may seem glib and carefree, but inside lies an inescapable darkness. She isn’t sure if the darkness developed after she became a demon, or if it was always there to begin with… but perhaps a little of both. Maybe it was there; waiting dormant like a slumbering beast. A shark swimming deep below the surface, just waiting for its moment to strike. The adder beneath the rose. Maybe it merely intensified when she signed that contract - awakening to grow and feed, lying heavy in her chest. It’s hard to know when she remembers so little of her mortal life.

If asked, she may just flat out say it. It’s not like anyone is going to believe her anyways, aside from the odd demon hunter. But what kind of demon would go around admitting they’re a demon? The honesty could throw them off, as well. Even so, “a gorgeous dame with an air of mystery about her” is a more likely response.

Her subconscious could give a far more honest answer than she ever would - Carmen views herself as a monster. One of the things that goes bump in the night. A shadow, flickering from the corner of an eye. A primal beast of darkness ravaging everything it touches. Her guilt grows fat and complacent on its diet of recent memories; crimes she had to commit as part of her eternal job - souls she had to take for Avernus. Some of the guilt was simply carried over from her mortal life, though she doesn’t recall why she feels guilty in the first place, aside from the obvious. The thought of going back to Avernus is what keeps her going - if she can collect enough souls, she’ll get a promotion and she won’t have to deal with the actual collection of souls itself. A desk job sounded more appealing. That, and maybe being off the mortal plane would stop the headaches. The sudden flashes of memory, typically accompanied by even more sudden flashes of guilt. Part of her wants to stay; to learn why the guilt complex. What could she have done that was so bad? Another part of her knows there’s something - someone - she should be looking for on the mortal plane, but she can barely remember their name. Her name. The scent of a specific flower was the only thing that cleared her memory, and even that was fleeting.

As for drawing, Carmen has discovered that she is quite a talented artist! Maybe that’s what she did in her mortal life? ...no, that felt… distinctly off. It was something else. Something with worried faces and murmured conversations; something with binoculars and polaroid photos and high-speed chases. Jumping from lead to lead, case to case… there were a lot of files, and she didn’t have an assistant to file them. That much, she remembered.

Her art skill isn’t much for imagination, however - she could draw herself as she is, or as she thinks she was when she was mortal. She could draw herself in any pose, really. She seemed to have a keen memory for faces and descriptors. Ironic that she could barely remember anything from her past. She has taken to sketching out scenes from what she does remember, though she’s never in any of them seeing as she’s drawing from her own viewpoint. When drawing herself, it usually ends up being a vent sketch - her form often appears more monstrous and wild than it is in reality, her teeth and claws bared in expressions of rage or even pain. Sometimes when she draws herself, it is as she was when she was mortal - or, at least how she thinks she looked. She often finds herself staring longingly at those sketches when she isn’t paying attention.