creating a motorcyclist character but not the booktok hairless pathetic man kind. rather a butch nosferatu middle aged woman who drives around a Harley Davidson and sounds like she has smoked for 50 years but she really hasnt she just sounds like that bc sheās nosferatu
thank you everyone it is fantastic to know that me and my rp partner need to infiltrate clan lasombra with more batshit Mormons rather than ancient beings with catholic guilt
some more of my toreador :)) sheās a night ballerina *wink wonk* who hunts via the siren method. she was born in Brazil in the 1840s and was embraced at 28 years old by an elder, though it was she herself who specifically requested to become a vampire so that she could escape from her old life
sorry about falling off the face of the earth this semester has been killing me with hammers. Also my curse of strahd dm sort of fell off the face of the earth or theyāre all playing in secret without me idk. Coping by putting my player character in a non dnd story. Was so. Close to finishing a campaign ā¦
painting I will probably not fully finish since it was š¢ supposed to be an in game drawing š¢ sigh
synopsis - Katie, a hospice nurse in New York City, endures a rather rough upbringing into vampirism.
word count - 3,943
(koji hishikawa created by @lostleechess thank you for the terrible sire)
cw: violent character death, viscera mentioned, other obvious forewarnings for a vampire story
When Katieās eyes opened, she was mortified to discover her boyfriend mangled in front of her. A pool of blood surrounded his head like some sort of twisted halo, and his throat was torn out to reveal viscera that crawled out from the front of his neck and onto the floor below.
It was as though a wild animal had crashed through her apartment. Althoughā¦ her circumstances were even more bizarre than that, as she realized his blood was all over her face and permeated a salty, iron-like taste in her mouth.
āOh,ā she said shakily, choking up tears as she began to gently take the tissue that was barely attached to his body, attempting to fix him by placing it back wherever it was supposed to be. It didnāt work. Of course it didnāt work. She had to rationally accept that he was broken beyond repairā¦ her boyfriend was dead.
For the past few months, Katie Karalis has had a rather rocky relationship with her boyfriend of five years. His bottom-of-the-barrel wannabe yuppie Wall Street job had proven unsuccessful, and October 1986 marked when his boss eventually let him go. For a month, he rotted in his girlfriendās apartment. She wanted to continue to love him, but he couldnāt even take care of himself. He would yell at her, berate her, and mooch off of her like some financial parasite. It didnāt help that she had only graduated from college three years prior and was still in significant financial debt. She was so broke, in fact, that she couldnāt even live in New York City, opting for a cramped apartment in Newark, where most of the time the water heater broke, so she would have to take extremely cold showers for weeks.
Time was ticking, and with each passing day, her wallet was growing tighter. It wasnāt until she was physically unable to pay for her bills that she discovered her boyfriend had been using her hard-earned money to gamble, drink, and make last efforts to buy stocks. Katie lost it. One day in November, while he was gone to do whatever finance bros did when the sun was out, she shoved all of his belongings into trash bags and threw them onto the foot of her apartment building.
Afterwards in November, Katie had begun a routine to go out with a coworker of hers. More specifically, the mortician. He was certainly a strange, eccentric man, different from her average Joe of a boyfriend. The mortician, who went by Kennedy Hishikawa, was of moderate height, thirty years old, and had that kind of face that Katie didnāt consider hot or sexy, but rather handsome. Like Katie, he took up the graveyard shifts and always helped her with post-mortem care. When November rolled by, he would ask to take her out every week. Sometimes they went to high-end seafood restaurants (she was never a surf kind of girl, more of a turf kind of girl, but she would do anything to please a gentleman like him); other times they took strolls in Central Park after dusk. Katie learned plenty more about Kennedy. For one, he was an old soul. He loved all things jazz, but not the Gary Bartz kind of jazz, more like the kind of jazz that was so retro the songs themselves were beginning to collect dust. He had an enormous collection of vinyls ranging from the classics like Duke Ellington to more niche artists like Hideto Sasaki. He had a niche for oldies, the black-and-white films that starred Humphrey Bogart of all people (another sidenote: she also wasnāt very keen on movies, preferring to read novels, but again, she was so enamored by this man that she only did things he wanted to do). Even the way he spokeā¦ his vocabulary was so articulate and out of place for a thirty-year-old that Katie sometimes wondered if he was kidnapped from the past by Marty McFly.
Of course, despite Kennedyās love for a time that he never lived through, he still frequented the cinema to see modern movies. āI read the other day that a film was going to be released sometime this summer,ā he said one night in February while they were in Katieās car, driving to her apartment to watch Top Gun. Her boyfriend had purchased the VHS tape and begged her to watch it with him for quite a while, but of course, she didnāt give in until her secret lover asked her to. āThe Lost Boysā¦ have you heard of it?ā
Katie had her eyes on the road, slightly chuckling yet thinking to herself, No, of course I havenāt heard of a movie called The Lost Boys being released. I donāt even watch movies in generalā¦ āNo, I havenāt,ā she simply stated.
āWell,ā the man clicked his tongue. āItās supposedly about a teenager who discovers a gang of vampires in California. Isnāt that intriguing? Most of the films regarding vampires that Iāve seenā¦ well, theyāre about ancient beings. Dracula. Nosferatu. To see something set in the modern worldāCalifornia of all placesāyou might as well consider me sold.ā He paused. āI wonder how theyāll portray vampires. Thereāll certainly not be any old Draculas in a gang, that I know.ā
āYou seem oddly passionate about this. Are you a vampire, Kennedy?ā Katie grinned, slightly glancing at him.
He snickered. āHm. No, but sometimes, I wish I was.ā
Katie felt guilty for going behind her boyfriendās back and seeing another guy. But there was something about Kennedy that seemed to fill a hole in her heartā¦ what was it? Was it the fact that he treated her better than any man in her life, even her own father? Was it the way he seemed to put her under a spell, or the way that he made love to her so passionately until her brain went haywire? Her expectations were low after years of abuse and being mistreated by the men she was supposed to trustā¦ that was certain. She was desperate for the bare minimum amount of respect, and the mortician at the hospital at least satisfied that.
But it wasnāt anything specialā¦ well, maybe it was, but instead of simply breaking up with her boyfriend or not trying to break HR violations, she decided to āride it outā and see what would happen. Maybe that proved to be a grave mistake. Katie forced herself to love seafood whenever she could, but this particular night out for sushi left her an absolute mess. When she woke up, she felt as though she had been hit by a truck. She had a giant migraine so painful that her forehead throbbed and her eyes couldnāt focus properly. In fact, her body was almost repulsed by how bright everything was. All of her sensesāall at onceācried out in agony, trying to grasp what was around her. She wasnāt sure if her neighbors were being particularly noisy that day, or if this sickness was making her more aware and overstimulated about everythingā¦
The woman was even more horrified when her head slowly peeked up at the alarm clock to discover that she had woken up at 5 PM, a little after the sun had set. She had slept all day. Fourteen hours, to be specific. She proceeded to spend the entire night wide awake, glued to her bed, merely staring at the ceiling, which oddly grew clearer to her the darker it became.
The next few days were agonizing. Katie was sick as a dog. She had only experienced food poisoning once before, and that was in college when she ate that casserole her friend made while learning how to cook, but that time wasnāt as severe as this. She didnāt have a fever, but her entire body ached; she slept throughout the day and stayed up all night, and she couldnāt keep down anything she consumed. Soup, water, Pepto-Bismol, and any random OTC meds that were stowed away in her kitchen immediately were face-to-face with her in the trash can, only mere moments after she ate them. Why did she force herself to eat that raw salmon...? Why couldnāt she have just ordered a juicy steak or something?
Katie was certain that she couldnāt keep up with this anymore. No matter what she did, she wasnāt getting any better. The poor girl was getting ravenous to eat something. Anything. It was best that she make a doctorās appointment the following day. Fine. Sheāll wait till morning.
She wanted to make herself feel better by watching her sitcoms on the television, but her eyes were once again too sensitive to any kind of light! The more Katie was forced to hide under her comforter rather than go about her regular life, the more frustrated she grew with herself. She couldnāt even look at herself in the mirror. There was no need; she already knew she was an absolute mess.
And then there was also that hickie on the side of her neck, but it strangely healed quickly after only a day or two. She tried to recall what couldāve happened that night, but everything was cloudy. She went on a date with Kennedy from the hospital at that restaurant; she drove here with himā¦ uh. She wasnāt sure what happened after that, but she really doesnāt remember getting hurt. She didnāt drink that much white wine, so it didnāt make any sense why she couldnāt remember anything. Katie wanted to call him and ask, butā¦ ugh. It wasnāt worth it. She couldnāt even get out of bed without falling to the floor and seeing all sorts of vibrant colors block her vision. She didnāt want to make all of that effort just to make a stupid phone call.
The knock on the door echoed through her mind and bounced around in her skull. It took her a moment to process the fact that there was even someone waiting for her outside. Katie took a deep breath and trembled as she tried to get herself out of her bed. As expected, her legs crumpled to the ground. The dark-haired woman didnāt fight against it and found herself once again staring at her ceiling. She tried to move, but her body didnāt seem to respond, and she continued to lie there like a starfish basking in the sun. She frog-blinked, her mouth slightly agape. She was staring for long enough that the ceiling was beginning to warp into little swirls.
Enough of that. Someone was at the door!
Slowly but steadily, she tried her best to heave her frail body upwards. She felt like a newborn giraffe who was trying to walk for the first time. Using the wall as support, she slid her way to the front door. Katie exhaled, placed her clammy hand onto the knob and twisted, only leaving a sliver of vision between her and the visitor, the door chain that she didnāt bother undoing providing additional protection.
Her boyfriend glared at her concerningly from the door. His boxy glasses reflected the light from the bulb overhead in the hallway. āKatie? Oh my God, put a shirt on, woman!ā
Katie didnāt realize she had spent the past days sulking in only a bra and a pair of underwear, and she didnāt seem to react when he raised his voice. āā¦Go away,ā she mumbled, but he refused to listen to her.
āKatie, you havenāt answered any of my calls, and youā¦ you look like shit! Whatās going on?ā
She quivered, refusing to share eye contact with the blond man. āI donāt want to see you. Go away.ā Katie went to shut the door in his face, but he pushed against her and attempted to swing it open, the door chain struggling to keep him out. The dark-haired woman faltered back a few steps.
āKnock it off. Tell me whatās going on.ā
Great. If her day couldnāt get any better, now her stupid boyfriend was barging through her door, demanding an answer to her issues. It was already bad enough that he refused to let her break up with him, so now it was this awkward limbo of Katie being stuck in a situation that she really didnāt want to be in. She didnāt even expect herself to be a lying, cheating, fibbing mess of a human being by 25, but here she was.
Reluctantly, Katie unlocked the door chain and gestured him inside.
She had to face it eventually. They could never go back to how great things were when they were young and stupid college students. The golden age, as she liked to put it. Their time at NYU was almost like a fantasy (or at least as Katie remembered and treated it as). It was just their ragtag group of four: Katie, her boyfriend, Keith, and Van. Although Katie was the only nursing major against their wad of business majors, she still made an effort to study and hang out with them as much as she could, even though she understood nothing about Wall Street. She loved her boyfriendās charm, Keithās cleverness, and Vanās attitude. But now? Her boyfriend was trapping her in their relationship, Keith was an asshole, and she had no clue about Vanās whereabouts. It was over. They needed to move on and develop lives of their own. But her boyfriend (or even Katie herself) couldnāt let go of it.
Katie felt like someone had stabbed her stomach with a knife and twisted it. Hot tears filled her eyes, and she placed a hand to one of her temples. āI donāt know!ā She shot back at him. āI donāt know whatās going on! Iām so sick that I havenāt eaten or drank anything in like three days!ā Katie wanted to rip her hair out. āI donāt know how Iām still up and moving like this. I shouldāve been hospitalized by now, butāfuck! Iām a nurse, but I canāt even take care of myself!ā
Her boyfriend exhaled deeply and was silent for a moment. He pulled her into an embrace, shifting his fingers through her curly hair. āKateā¦ā He merely said, watching as she sobbed into his shoulder. āCan I do something for you, then? I can make you some soup or somethingā¦ā
āNo,ā she grumbled. āIām just gonna throw it back up.ā
āIt wouldnāt hurt to try. If you canāt eat it, then Iāll take you to the hospital.ā
She thought about it. She could eat anything and everything right now. She was quiet, too. It was so quiet between them, in fact, that she could almost swear that she could hear his heartbeat despite their slight distance from each other. No. She was just crazy. Sick and crazy.
āā¦Fine.ā
āThere,ā he said as if he were the greatest man in the world for offering his help. āWe can watch some of the movies I left hereā¦ if you didnāt throw the tapes out yet.ā
āWell,
Fuck you. Get out of my house. I hate your movies.
can we just listen to some music instead? The TV hurts my eyes.ā
āSure thing, Kate.ā He flashed a wink at her as he made his way over to her vinyl collection and sifted through each selection before pulling out ABBAās Greatest Hits album, with this version released in ā76. He placed it on the record player, lifting the tonearm a little to skip some of the songs. Agnetha FƤltskogās vocals in Mamma Mia immediately came through when he put it back down.
He noticed the VHS tapes by the television out of the corner of his eye. When he turned his head, he laughed and picked one up, holding it up to her. āDid you rent this? Did you seriously buy Casablanca? When did you decide that you like old movies?ā He grabbed the blanket that was wadded up into one corner of the sofa and approached her. āAnd you need to cover up,ā he said as he wrapped it around her. āGeez, what happened for you to end up like this?ā
Katie lowered her gaze. āā¦A couple of days ago, I went out to eat at this Japanese place with Penny. I blame the seafood.ā
(Pennyā¦ a fellow nurse at the hospital that she liked to go out into the city with sometimes to gossip and drink martinis. The perfect fib.)
āKateā¦ā She could see through his eyes that he wanted to say something, but he shook his head. āJust wait for me on the couch. Iāll get the stove started up.ā
He left for the kitchen, and Katie was curled up on her couch. The knife was twisting the wound in her stomach again, and she realized she had much more of a profound thirst now that he was hereā¦ maybe that soup would do well for her.
But when he came back to the living room after several minutes, Katieās eyes were watering as she stared at the ceiling. He noticed that she was violently trembling and gasping, but it wasnāt anything like heās ever seen before. It was almost as if she were struggling to fight against herself from doing something, like a starving lion trying to push its fresh meal away. Meanwhile, Fernando had come on, with Frida Lyngstad now taking her turn to sing.
You were humming to yourself and softly strumming your guitar
I could hear the distant drums
And sounds of bugle calls were coming from afarā¦
āKateā¦ā He ran to her and sat by her side, paranoid that she might be choking or having a seizure.
Before she could even say anythingāanything at allāshe blacked out. And when she opened her eyes, she discovered her boyfriend had been horrendously murdered, his maimed body sprawled on the floor. ABBA had reached the songās climaxā¦
There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, Fernando
Though we never thought that we could lose
Thereās no regret
If I had to do the same again,
I would, my friend, Fernandoā¦
The longer she spent sitting there, dumbfounded on the floor, the more she had processed what was around her. For one, she was injured. Her nape stung, and there were little bits of glass shards still lodged in her skin. Her arms ached as though someone had forcefully grabbed her. Had she fought against the home intruder who killed her boyfriend, or was she the one who had committed the slaughter?
(?Like Cain from the Bible?)
Well, for one, there was blood all over herā¦ his blood, not hers, even in her mouth. She didnāt seem to use any weapons. Strangely enough, there was a pair of beastly fangs that sat in her mouth, and she was no longer starving, although she didnāt recall eating anything. She didnāt want to admit it, especially when she was in despair over the death of her boyfriend, but pure euphoria filled her mind. The simple bliss of satisfaction. Was it out of her new animalistic tendencies, or how glad she was that he was finally gone from her life (no matter how much she tried to deny it)?
How could you, Katie? How could you do this? You murdered him, Katie. So brutally, at thatā¦
āOh God, oh God!ā Katie cried out, tears streaming down her face, which began to wash away the crimson. At this point, ABBAās cheerful music was taunting her.
Her head shook as she continued to wail, and she quickly crawled away from the body in fear. She had finally realized what was wrong with her. She definitely didnāt have food poisoning, but the word that echoed through her mind was simply too absurd for her to come to terms with.
Vampire.
And out of all the obvious conclusions she could make about how this could be, the only thing she could think of was that she was cursed by God for cheating on her boyfriend.
As a child, her yiayia warned her about the vrykolakas. An undead creature born from someone who lived a sinful life. They wreak havoc upon the world. They will break your door down and consume your flesh and organs. A vampire. Katie, who was raised in a zealously religious and conservative Greek Orthodox household, irrationally began to believe that she had turned from God and her familyās watchful eyes. She was supposed to be a humble, God-fearing girl, but now she was an agnostic, depressed woman who thought that she could somehow get away with adultery. Perhaps her rebellious black sheep nature had caught up to her, and she now had to face the consequencesā¦
Katie hissed as her hand landed on even more glass shards. She turned her head to discover the source. A picture frame had fallen, and she began to theorize that while she tried to kill and eat him, her boyfriend had attempted to fight back and ended up throwing her into the wall, with the picture frame being in the zone of impact. It landed on its back, perpetually staring at the ceiling, the same way her boyfriend did.
She inspected the photo inside. Droplets of blood stained it. It was from her college graduation. She was in the streets of Manhattan in her rich violet gown and cap, the tassel falling to the side of her cheek. She smiled contentedly, and her head leaned against her boyfriend.
It was her time at NYU where she truly felt like she was able to escape from her sheltered family. They didnāt want Katie to attend college. Even when she fought to advocate for herself, it came at a cost that she was no longer financially dependent on her parents. They had thrown her to the wolves, leaving her to balance finances and, after graduation, to scavenge for any apartments on the New York City housing market. Although it was difficult at first to navigate adulthood on her own, she had never felt more free. But where was she now...? That sense of liberation had uncomfortably morphed into an endless cycle of shifts at the hospital and dealing with her pathetic excuse of a boyfriend. Now, she had felt as if she had become an empty husk, with all of her passions dissolving in front of her eyes while she tried to make ends meet.
Katie could remember the moment that photo was taken. It was the spring of 1983, and the weather on the day of her graduation was clear skies. The freshly bloomed honeylocusts that lined the streets of Manhattan glowed a vibrant green against the sunlight. At that time, Katie was optimistic about what was ahead of her. She was excited to depart from her years of working as an awkward dormitory RA, diploma in hand, forever bragging about graduating summa cum laude. She distinctly recalls standing there on the sidewalk in her plum acetate gown, the crisp breeze hugging her (almost to congratulate her), as she felt her boyfriendās firm hand wrapping around her waist. Her parents stood in the grass in front of them, which ran parallel to the street. Her mother held a camera in her hands, holding it up to her face. Although she had always had issues with her parents, Katie was nonetheless thankful that they were able to make it to the ceremony. āEla,ā her mother called out. āSay ācheese.āā
āCheeeeeeeeeeeeseā¦!ā Her own voice echoed through her mind.
Katieās tears began to fall onto the picture before her, and she couldnāt help but hug it tightly. She had murdered her own identity. And now, God knows what would become of herā¦
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