( she doesn't need vampiric hearing to know that despite agreeing, her company is still aggressively present and probably just staring at the back of her head right now. Carmilla's head drops back in a visible sign of her frustration, before she at least turns to eye the intruder before trying to shake her loose a second time. she ... she doesn't recognize her. that doesn't mean much, Mother got up to all sorts of sacrifices that she wasn't ever involved in. but it's still a little unexpected to meet a stranger in what she thought was an endless lone existence inside the eternal light of a slug god. )

You're not great at listening, ( Carmilla accuses, though her tone is at least mildly less incendiary than it was a second ago. not exactly because she feels bad, more that she's curious to not be the only one on the eternal beach. she pushes herself to her feet, and the only way the leather pants she's wearing are appropriate for the beach is the fact the sand doesn't stick to it, so that's about the only good thing she's got going right now. she heads closer to the redhead, expression skeptical. )

Or picking beach attire. Are you dead too? Tell me it was more exciting than freezing to death. ( what an incredibly callous question, whoops. )