Katherine Williams (kitty_fangs) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-10-19 05:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | katherine williams |
Night Unlife
Who: Katherine.
What: Katherine wakes to unresolved business.
Rating: Language, sexual references and Assorted other Katherine-related activities.
There was movement.
It came from somewhere under the sheets. Unlife, as it turned out, was nothing like a semi-romantic gothic novel. There was, thankfully, no necessity for a coffin. Limbs were freely dangling in as much of a mess as the vampire's hair. Katherine liked to think of herself as ever-alert, although the truth, especially after a previous night's drinking, tended to produce a somewhat sleepier picture in the late afternoon.
Eyes hadn't even tried to open, at first. She just groaned and curled inwards for a while. It took a while for the USS Katherine to work up something resembling a head of steam before she voluntarily tried to greet the open air and, finally, did so with a dry mouth slowly opening and closing. Strands of dark hair refused to get out of the way by sheer willpower as she raised torso, propping self up by am elbow, which meant having to half-heartedly blow them out of her face.
Around then was when she realised, remembered, some of those limbs were not owned by her, alone. She wasn't the only corpse in that bed, but her's was the only one which was reanimated.
"Fuuuuuck, not agaaain..."
By the time Katherine had regained enough energy to want to get up and deal with it, the vampiress was looking down at last night's impulsive meal with a look of despair. The boy was... College age? Younger...? A hot vein in search of a bite, that was all he was. After the sex, anyway. All she remembered was hearing a compliment and... Well, was pretty sure it must have been fun at the time, even if she only had the vaguest of recollections about it now.
She at least hoped the part which counted had been as stiff as the rest of him was now, because now she was saddled with fucking body disposal.
Squinting, she reached for her mobile. Someone had left a message. Rhiannon... The resulting mental reaction consisted of a colourful descriptive term for wanting the girl to go away, scanning the message and, as soon as she was sure it didn't relate to danger, almost immediately forgetting about it.
"Fffffuck you," Katherine started to almost mindlessly repeat. The same phrase impulsively being used for every little thing which went wrong, from banging a wrist against something, to inner ear imbalance, as she attempted to walk... No... Crawl on hands and knees to the shower.
Everything had suddenly become Rhiannon. No matter how small or illogical, it was Rhiannon. Shower head pointing the wrong way? Rhiannon. Her own inability to activate the water? Rhiannon. Realising too late that it was turned on hot? Rhiannon. Not for any particular sensible reason. Just because that text message had been the last coherent object of annoyance which had penetrated her mental fog. It was easier not having to identify whatever next happened to piss her off, so... Everything was just an excuse to tell Rhiannon to fuck this, fuck that, fuck the other and generally copulate in the off direction.
"This is why they call us the walking dead," she muttered, immediately falling over as a sock proved less than co-operative, causing the usually formidable killer to trip over and curse Rhiannon's name, again, for reasons even she didn't comprehend.
Why was she even... Oh. Yeah, the... The thing.
Feeling slightly more like herself, Katherine finally grabbed the telephonic device and read the message.
'Do fangs regenerate? Just wondering.'
Yeah, now she remembered.
"The fuck kind of question is... How do you even think this shit up?!"
One hand was out to the side, palm up, as Katherine verbally lashed out at the non-existent hunter. Her facial expression incredulous. Was this a... Was this a threat? Like... 'Shame if you woke up with a horse's head. Would you mind that?' Or did the girl genuinely... Was it in a film?
Looking aghast, Katherine glanced over at the boy from last night. "Yeah, like you can judge," she sneered, sharply exhaling and rubbing chin, as she looked back at the display. Should she answer?
Did fangs regenerate... I don't know, Rhi. Would your ass regenerate if I kicked it? How about your face, huh? If I-
Katherine's train of thought chuffed into the station as she scrunched something underfoot on the way over to deal with the cadaver. Dozens of pieces of paper with Wren's name scrawled out, lined through and then thrown away over the floor. Bending down to pick one up, Katherine opened it up, examining the contents. One was an attempt at a last will and testament, clearly ended when her drunken self had realised it would hold no legal weight. Another was a heraldic symbol which was drawn while seeing double. Then there were trials at romantic poems, another of cartoon stick figures and...
Shit. A reminder to herself. She still had to deal with that. The reason why she had been been chained up in an empty warehouse.
Today was going to be messy.