Lilith "Lily" Bloodpetal
"Oh, love. Don’t be afraid. Just understand—I would do anything for you."
The Last Home is full of strange things—doors that lead to places that shouldn’t exist, patrons who refuse to acknowledge the rules of time, and beings older than history who sit at the bar like they have every right to be there.
And then there is Lilith Bloodpetal.
She does not belong here.
And yet—she is here.
She was sent to kill Lars.
She failed.
And then she never left.
Not because she was spared. Not because she hesitated. Not because she changed her mind.
Because she couldn’t.
Because something inside her would not allow it.
She should have run. Should have tried again. Should have disappeared into the night and pretended none of it had ever happened.
Instead, she followed him.
And Lars—Lars let her.
The Maids, who do not tolerate outsiders, never asked her to leave. The patrons, who have seen horrors from a hundred worlds, do not speak her name unless she is already listening.
And Lars?
Lars never tells her to go.
Perhaps because he knows it would be pointless.
Perhaps because he understands.
She has already decided.
She belongs here.
And The Last Home does not deny her.
Because The Last Home does not make mistakes.
A Purpose Rewritten
Failure should have been the end.
Lilith had always known what happened to those who failed. There was no tolerance for hesitation, no mercy for a weapon that had dulled, no place in the world for a blade that refused to strike.
And yet—here she was.
No one pursued her. No one came to correct her mistake. No shadow followed her through the streets, no blade sought her throat for betraying her purpose.
Because she had never gone back.
The moment Lars turned and sighed, the moment he let her follow instead of flee, the past ceased to matter.
She did not question why she had done it.
She did not dwell on what it meant.
She did not hesitate to accept the new reality.
Because to her, it had already been decided.
The world she had come from no longer existed.
She did not ask Lars why he let her stay.
She did not ask if he would have sent her away if she had given him the choice.
Because the answer did not matter.
She had already chosen him.
And Lilith Bloodpetal does not let go of what is hers.
She became his shadow, his constant, his silent, unwavering protector.
Nothing else mattered.
Not her past.
Not her training.
Not the ones who might still be waiting for her return.
She had already decided.
The others came later.
Freya, wild and untamed. Rika, reckless and indomitable. Marie, clever and untouchable. Carmella, dramatic and infuriating. Sylvie, the enigma.
The Maids grew. Their stories became legends. Their names became whispers in places far beyond the Inn.
But Lilith had already claimed her place before any of them arrived.
She does not lead them.
She does not command them.
She simply exists within them—watching, waiting, ensuring that nothing ever threatens what they have built.
Because she has already lost everything once.
And she will never allow it to happen again.
A Presence That Refuses to Be Ignored
Lilith does not enter rooms.
She does not announce herself, does not sweep in with purpose, does not command attention the way Freya does, nor does she leave a trail of destruction like Rika.
And yet—people notice her anyway.
Not immediately, of course. That would be too easy. No, first comes the creeping realization that something is different—a shift in the air, a flicker of unease, the certainty that someone has already decided how this conversation ends, and it isn’t you.
Her scarlet eyes move slowly, deliberate and half-lidded with something that might be patience, or amusement, or something far worse. She does not glance around a room—she measures it. She does not meet people’s gazes—she waits for them to meet hers.
Her wine-red hair is immaculate—never tangled, never disturbed, never giving the impression that she has, at any point, been caught in an unexpected gust of wind. Wind does not happen to Lilith Bloodpetal.
Her pale skin is flawless—not just in the way that makes poets sigh, but in the way that suggests the world itself has learned not to touch her. She has walked through bloodshed, past men who have died on their knees, through battles that should have left scars.
And yet, nothing.
She wears the uniform of The Legendary Maids, but on her, it does not feel like a uniform.
It is too perfect.
Too precise.
Too much like a warning.
She does not adjust it. She does not fidget. She does not move like someone in uniform—she moves like someone for whom the concept of uniformity is a game she has already won.
She does not walk past people—she is simply beyond them before they realize she was ever there at all.
She does not leave a room—she simply is not there anymore.
And yet—somehow, Lilith Bloodpetal is always there.
The Stillness That Holds a Knife
Lilith Bloodpetal is not a force of nature. She is not a whirlwind, not a wildfire, not a storm crashing through a battlefield. She does not burn, rage, or roar.
She simply is.
A shadow that lingers just a second too long in the corner of your eye. A whisper of movement in a room that should be empty. The faint, nagging sense that you have already made a mistake—you just don’t know what it was yet.
Lilith does not rush.
She does not fidget, does not pace, does not allow impatience to dictate her movements. The world shifts, people move, chaos unfolds, and Lilith remains exactly where she intends to be. She is stillness, but not the peaceful kind—the kind that feels like a blade balanced on the edge of a breath, the kind that makes people uneasy without knowing why.
She does not need recognition, validation, or approval. She does not care if others trust her, does not demand their loyalty, does not argue for her place among them. She is here. That is enough.
Hesitation annoys her. So does doubt.
Indecision is an enemy, a weakness she has never been able to afford. The world does not wait for second thoughts. A choice made is a choice carried through—anything less is wasted motion, wasted time, wasted life.
She is not violent without reason, but she has never once hesitated to eliminate a problem.
If you are in her way, move.
If you are a threat, disappear.
If you think she will warn you twice, you are mistaken.
She does not gloat. She does not indulge in dramatic threats. She does not offer second chances.
She used to be a manipulator, once. She understands the game better than most—which is precisely why she does not play it anymore.
She does not need to.
She already knows who will walk away from the conversation.
And who won’t.
The Shadow That Never Left
Lilith does not claim a title.
She is not the leader of the Maids. She does not command, does not issue orders, does not place herself at the forefront of their chaos.
And yet, she is always there.
She wears the uniform. She moves through the halls. She serves drinks when necessary, keeps the guests in line when it matters, and ensures that the Maids—her Maids—remain untouched by things that would do them harm.
She does not ask for trust. She does not demand loyalty.
She simply exists.
She is not The Last Home’s guardian—but nothing threatens what is hers.
She is not The Legendary Maids’ leader—but she is always watching.
She is not Lars’ protector—but she is the reason he is still breathing.
The Maids do not question her presence. The patrons lower their voices when she is near. Lars never tells her to leave.
Perhaps because he knows it would be pointless.
Perhaps because he understands.
She is a Maid because she was always one. Because she has always belonged here. Because Lilith Bloodpetal does not leave.
She never has.
And she never will.
The People She Never Chose, But Will Never Let Go
Lilith does not love easily.
She does not trust, does not bond, does not indulge in the sentimental nonsense others wrap themselves in like armor. And yet—they are hers.
She does not question it.
She simply knows.
She follows Lars without hesitation, without permission, without doubt. She does not need his approval. She does not wait for his command. He has never asked her to stay.
She stays anyway.
Tess is an unavoidable force of warmth, an intrusion Lilith does not resist but does not quite understand.
Freya does not trust her. Lilith does not mind. Freya believes in action over words, and Lilith has always been an expert at letting actions speak for themselves.
Rika is an unpredictable storm, impossible to predict, impossible to control. This is both fascinating and irritating.
Marie moves too much like her, too careful, too quiet. Lilith respects that.
Carmella is exhausting.
Sylvie watches her.
Lilith watches back.
She would never say she cares.
But Lilith Bloodpetal does not let go of what is hers.
The One Rule You Should Never Break
Lilith does not threaten.
She does not warn.
She does not make a show of violence, does not posture, does not remind people of what she is capable of.
Because it is unnecessary.
Because those who matter already understand.
There are many ways to die in The Last Home.
But there is only one mistake you cannot make.
Do not take what is hers.
Not Lars.
Not The Maids.
Not The Inn.
She does not argue. She does not debate. She does not waste time explaining why you should reconsider.
She will watch.
She will wait.
And when the moment comes, you will not see it.
Lilith Bloodpetal does not forget.
And she does not forgive.
The Truth She Will Never Acknowledge
Lilith does not doubt.
She does not question the choices she has made, does not second-guess the path that led her here. She does not wonder if she could have been something else, does not dwell on what might have been.
She has no regrets.
Because to regret is to admit there was ever another path.
She was sent to kill Lars.
She did not.
And instead of running, instead of disappearing into the night, instead of doing anything else—she followed him.
And in that moment, the world rewrote itself.
She belongs here.
She belongs with him.
She belongs to this strange, impossible family she never asked for but will never allow to be taken from her.
But if The Last Home were to disappear?
If Lars were to finally push her away?
If the world took this from her—what would be left?
She does not consider this.
She does not allow herself to.
Because Lilith Bloodpetal does not let go of what is hers.
And she will never have to.
At A Glance
Who She Is:
A half-succubus wrapped in silence and veiled threats, Lilith Bloodpetal is The Last Home’s most unsettling source of devotion. Once an assassin, now a maid in name only, she moves like a whisper through the Inn—always watching, never forgotten.
What She Does:
Lilith serves drinks, lingers in the background, and ensures those who cross The Last Home never feel safe again. She does not make threats—she makes decisions. If she has deemed you a problem, you won’t realise it until it’s too late.
Her Role in The Last Home:
Lilith was never hired—she simply never left. Lars let her stay, Tess made her work, and the Maids accepted her. Now, she is The Last Home’s quiet shadow, an enforcer without orders, a guardian without chains.
Personality & Behaviour:
Lilith does not love in halves. If she has chosen you, you are hers. She does not ask for trust—she expects it. She does not demand loyalty—she enforces it. If you are family, she will protect you. If you betray her, she will ensure you never do so again.
Her Succubus Heritage:
With scarlet eyes, deep wine-red hair, and luminous skin that never scars, Lilith is beautiful in a way that unsettles more than it entices. She does not need to charm—people are drawn to her regardless.
The One Rule:
If Lilith is watching you, she has already decided your fate. If you are wise, you won’t ask what that decision was.
The Knife That Never Fell:
Lilith was sent to kill Lars. She failed. Not from hesitation, not from doubt—she simply couldn’t. He didn’t fight her. He didn’t run. He simply turned, sighed, and took her with him. She has never left since.
How Others See Her:
Fascinating, terrifying, impossible to read. People don’t know if they are being seduced or warned—only that they should tread carefully.
Lars’ Opinion on Her:
A problem, but not one that needs fixing. She is his responsibility, and he does not regret it. However, he has learned not to ask what happens to people who upset her. It’s easier that way.
I think she's my favorite.
Ah so now we know your type :P