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I looked upon the scene before me - upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain - upon the bleak walls upon the vacant eye-like windows - upon a few rank sedges - and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees - with an utter depression of the soul, which I can compare to no earthly sensation… - Edgar Allan Poe * There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy - William Shakespeare * No Man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks. - Mary Wollstonecraft * Tell me the news, again, whatever it is... sorrow and I are hardly strangers. I can bear the worst. ― Sophocles






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Every End Is A Beginning - Past (Katja); Attn: Katja Rissanen
Topic Started: May 25 2016, 08:30 PM (525 Views)
Oskar Van Keuren
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[TW: allusion to dying & violence]


Well... it had to end somehow...

Although a gutshot was not necessarily the way Oskar had imagined it. Perhaps he had underestimated those around him or perhaps he simply overestimated his own abilities and intellect. Still, as his vision began to go hazy and he felt himself slumping against the wall, he thought about it all.

One of those film reel moments, you know?...

What had he achieved in life? He had lived the way he wanted to, so much was true. All was done his way and nothing was ever forced, nothing was ever done under another's authority. Well, maybe sometimes.

"Verrek..." he cursed in his native tongue as he pressed his hands to his stomach. That was not stopping the bleeding in any way and his eyelids felt heavy. So heavy... if only he could close them for a little while.

He didn't notice when he had slumped so low that he was practically laying on the floor.

"Night, night, kid." he heard a distant voice, almost an echo. They were leaving. He wanted to say something smart, one last snide comment and a proverbial middle finger to his killers. But his lips were sealed...

And soon, he began to feel the cold.
Edited by Oskar Van Keuren, May 26 2016, 08:12 PM.
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Katja Rissanen
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Katja was deliberately running late. She had long ago established that her criminal persona, Whisper, kept to her own personal schedule and would arrive early or late as she saw fit. It was not a matter of causing offence, though it had been taken on many occasion, nor of establishing dominance by dictating the schedule, as many had assumed. It was something far simpler: unpredictability decreased the chances of being ambushed.

"Night night, kid." The words were distant even to her augmented hearing, another precaution she tended towards, and the Ravnos cocked her head as she tried to discern more. Moments passed with just the ambient sounds of the city before she heard it. An unmistakable rasping gurgle, one she had heard too often for her liking.

She lengthened her strides, quickening her pace and listening for any signs of lingering struggle until she turned into the rendezvous. There were none and now she saw why. Dodger, her chosen fence for the past few jobs, lay in a slowly growing, wine-dark pool of his lifeblood. His hands were bloody, clutching at his guts, and his skin had paled. Death, she knew, was close for him.

Damn. She had liked Dodger, enjoyed his irrepressible attempts to charm her despite her remoteness. Soon he'd be gone, like so many before him. Another tie lost, a new fence needed and relationship cultivated...

Katja paused, feeling a spiritual chill wash through her as she realised how cold she had become, how disconnected. Here lay a contact, perhaps even a potential friend, dying and her concerns were for her own business opportunities?

She had never wanted a childe, someone to take responsibility for and educate in the truth of the world. Far worse would be a ghoul: blood bound, obsessed and stiflingly close. Yet her want for solitude was assailed by memories of a disused well, of illusions and a life taken. Katja had murdered on that day, and it had cost her. She could never bring that reporter back but she could still prevent this death at least.

The Ravnos moved with fluid certainty, her canine opening the vein in her wrist as she ghosted to his side and pressed it to his lips.

"Drink." Her voice was filled with hushed urgency. "Think of your wound, the vitae will do the rest. Drink!"
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Oskar Van Keuren
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Colder... and colder...
Darker... and darker...

But like with anything else, there was indeed a positive side to dying, if one attempted to find it. In this case, it was the fact that it would all be over soon.

After a while, Oskar stopped feeling the pain in his guts and he knew that it wouldn't be long. Oddly, that thought did not frighten him. Like with all else in life, he would meet this unexpected end with eyes wide open.

But his vision was blurring and the outlines of the bar were becoming hazy. One last time, he attempted to sit up, but his body betrayed him and not a single muscle twitched.

Then, he heard her voice. He couldn't see her but he could hear her and as he attempted to make out her words, all he managed to register was "Drink!" He attempted to chuckle, which came out more like a gurgle.

"Bad time... for alcohol... Whisper." he managed to say before he felt something warm against his lips, a liquid he had not tasted before. It was sweet and metallic and he dank as he was instructed. It passed by his lips and trickled down his throat, slow like honey.

Soon, a week hand came to grasp her wrist as he pressed his lips harder to her skin. The taste was addictive. But what it did... was more or less what one would call a miracle.

His mind began to slowly clear and the pain, so prominent only moments ago, began to slowly subside. The feeling of his wound closing was unusual but welcome. His blue eyes, now able to see again, looked up and fixed on Whisper's face. A determination he could not explain was what he found in her features. But he did not argue, nor did he question.

He simply drank, his eyelids heavy with the ecstasy of the sweet taste but his crystal blue gaze fixed on her in silent gratitude.
Edited by Oskar Van Keuren, May 28 2016, 09:14 AM.
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Katja Rissanen
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Wrist planted on his mouth, Katja used her free hand to pull his clothing clear of his wound. Gut shots were invariably messy and Dodger's was bad. Her instincts had been right, he had been doomed without her intervention.

Now, though, she watched her vitae work it's unnatural magic as the wound drew itself together, flesh knitting tightly. It was a serious wound and required a significant investment of her blood to heal. And therein lay the problem.

Katja held a long habit of hunting late in the evening, when mortals were drunk and lust-filled. In short, when her personality was overshadowed by her looks. She was already due to feed again soon before tonights events.

Dodger dranked from her vitae and the roiling red Hunger rose from it's pit within her. It's tendrils threaded into her thoughts, tinging them with a sense of urgency. She needed to feed, had to feed or lose herself to a frenzy. She looked to Dodger. His colour was returning, his wound half healed, so she tore her wrist from his mouth and quickly sealed the cut with a lick.

"Dodger." She growled unintentionally, her eyes falling to his neck. She tore her gaze away. "Get up. Now."
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Oskar Van Keuren
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Oskar did not really care much for the fact that the sweet liquid that passed his hungry lips was blood. It made him better. Somehow, it made the wound on his stomach close. However it was that it achieved that... Oskar was not about to question.

During his years of involvement with crime, he had certainly had a few bad runs here and there, a few more serious injury, among which a broken leg and bruised lips. But nothing could ever compare to the bullets, which had tore his flesh. He knew he had been dying... and he couldn't quite understand it yet but for some reason of her own, Whisper had saved him. Maybe his charm was finally working on her, he had to think with an internal chuckle.

As she tore her wrist away from him, Oscar's blue eyes eyes glanced up, attempting to banish the haziness of his mind and understand the commend she had issued. At this point in time, he was happy to do what she asked, convinced she meant him no harm.

He found the strength to stand up, if slowly and waited for her to lead the way, his hand still resting on the formerly torn flesh of his stomach. His fingers and his clothes were still covered in his own blood but the wound was gone.

"Where are we going?" he managed to ask in an absent-minded manner. He still felt the high and euphoria of having consumed her vitae but he did not try to explain the sensation, instead simply revelling in it, happy to follow Whisper where she wanted to go.
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Katja Rissanen
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Katja turned to Oskar, her expression once more adopting her usual remote and cool facade as she settled back. I have a ghoul now. What in blazes name do I do with one? Her first thoughts were understandable. For years running into decades she had kept to her own company. Interactions with others were either professional or, with other Kindred, a necessity. Either way, experience had taught her to keep one foot out of the proverbial door for any encounter.

As she watched, he came back to the world of the living, if not full awareness. He swayed, clearly still riding the blissful emotions her vitae had given him. His spoke, his voice ethereal as his mind drifted.

On an ordinary day, it would have irked her. Today, however, she had risked her own destruction on an impulse, made herself vulnerable as she fed him and left herself having to cope with the Hunger.

Her reaction was instinctive, her arm moving swiftly and the flat of her palm landing with a meaty smack on his cheek. She followed up with a step closer, her lips peeling back as she snarled. "Wake up." Katja clenched her fists, struggling to hold back her Beast's desire to wreck havoc. "You need to get hidden. I need to hunt. We need to get out of here.

"You're the local. Do your damn job."
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Oskar Van Keuren
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Still in the haze of his own waterfall of incoherent thoughts, Oskar had no chance of spotting the smack coming before it did. Usually, he would have laughed it off or, even better, made a snide comment that would anger Whisper further. But now? He simply stood, dumbstruck, his eyes shifting from the door to fix on her. He considered for a moment. He could feel his heart leap in his throat with the adrenaline her blood had injected into him.

Without thinking, he took a step forward. Closer to her. It was a dangerous proximity, which would probably, rightfully, earn him another angry smack but he needed it for that moment. He needed to know she wasn't truly cross with him and her actions were out of frustration. Why had he certainly started caring quite so much about what Whisper thought and why she acted the way she did? He couldn't tell... But it was a pull that would not relent and he had to will himself to take a step toward the door and away from her.

"I know a place." was his only answer. He knew many. And a few of them were in the area... But what had she meant by "hunting"? Was she one of those organic eating folk that wanted to catch their own dinner? Rotterdam was probably not the best place for such shenanigans, especially at this time of night, especially since he should technically be dead.

He patted the place where the wound had been once more, as if to assure himself it was truly closed.

"What are we hunting for?" he asked, slowly beginning to regain his focus. He pulled the neck of his coat up so that his face was less visible in the dim light of the street lamps as he moved to exit the alleyway, which lead out into the street from the entrance of the bar.
Edited by Oskar Van Keuren, Jun 3 2016, 02:57 PM.
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Katja Rissanen
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Katja's stared intensely at Oskar, her usual remote coolness replaced by an intensity he had not witnessed from her before. Her lips twitched as the Beast's domineering anger mixed with the Hunger to threaten her control. She stood still as she struggled to retain dominion over her own body. It was unnatural for Oskar to see, for her internal struggle was evident yet there was no breath, no heave of her chest to draw in oxygen and calm.

Her lips peeled back into a near sneer as she finally spoke. "Short version." Her voice was tight and quiet as she stared a challenge into his eyes. "You should have died, drinking my blood saved you. No, I'm not human. I haven't been for a long time.

"You drank my blood, and needed a substantial amount to heal. Now, I am hungry,"
a growl slipped into the word as her eyes dropped to his neck, "and I need more.

"We get you safe. Then I hunt."
It took great effort on her part but she twisted her body and stepped away from his warm, live body. One filled with the blood she craved and weakened still most likely. One so close she could-

"Lead. Now." Her command gave left little for him to argue with.
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Oskar Van Keuren
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"No, I'm not human." - Well, that explained why she had not yet fallen for his obvious charms. More importantly, it explained the whole working only at night thing. Right... so, the whole vampire urban legend was real and he was now indebted to one. Well, damn.

"Right... safe." he repeated, almost mechanically, as he glanced around and headed down a different side street. It was narrow and not too well lit, which served him just fine. There weren't many people around, safe for the occasional unsavoury character on the street corners. And that was just fine, too.

The safe house was only a few blocks away, only... Oskar wasn't quite sure it was all that safe anymore. Still, having heard the urgency in Whisper's voice, he chose not to question that particular aspect of the plan right now. For a moment, he stopped and turned around to look at her. "You will come back. Right?" he asked, arching an eyebrow in suspicion. It would be quite easy for her to simply say she was hunting and then vanish in thin air, wouldn't it?

He couldn't let that happen.
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Katja Rissanen
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Katja's lips parted as a low growl rumbled from the Kindred. Her brow furrowed as she met his gaze and her shoulders bunched with tension. In her pockets, her hands fisted and her nails dug against the stiff Fortitude-toughened flesh of her palm.

He does not mean to delay. He doesn't understand my need, the Hunger... She repeated the mantra, focusing on the words to calm herself. To Oskar, however, it was likely unnerving to have Katja stand motionless before him. Glaring.

"You think," she whispered, "I would risk myself, I would suffer this now, and just vanish? It was probably too foolish of me to save you, but it. Is. Done.

"Now. Get us to the safehouse!"
Katja hissed.
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Oskar Van Keuren
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Oskar tilted his head to the side, about to ask her if she was alright. Standing motionless and all that. It was a bit worrying. Vampires couldn't just suddenly... "corpse up", could they? Common sense told him that it would be a bad idea to ask. Or to poke her and see if she was alive, for that matter.

As she growled her response, Oskar nodded thoughtfully. "Cool." was his only answer, as he turned around to scan the surrounding area. He moved stealthily through the streets he knew like the back of his hand. Soon enough, there was in front of the apartment block. The Dutchman produced a large set of keys from his pocket - at least 30 different sets hung from the thick chain and, picking out the correct ones, fumbled with the lock.

"You sure I can't help? With this hunting business?" he asked, glancing back at Katja, blue eyes scanning her features. He wasn't necessarily certain why he wanted to be quite so helpful, but he knew the thought of her leaving and perhaps being in danger certainly did not sit well with him at the moment.

This was turning out to be one hell of a weird night!
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Katja Rissanen
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Katja worked her jaw as she swallowed down an angry snippet. Instead, she just shook her head and gestured curtly for Oskar to step in front and take the lead. She fell into place behind him, her long-practised step silent on the paved street.

He wants to help me hunt? The bond, just one drink and he's willing to help find prey. Can I trust him? He is not yet bound, he could easily betray me. But... would he? He did not know what I was, had no idea I could save him. This is not, could surely not be, a planned betrayal on his part. That leaves manipulation then. Is it... could it be Nikolay? He has been silent for years, but that's how he works. Is this how he returns? Yet, how would he have found Dodger of all people? He's just one of many contacts... Her thoughts circled towards paranoia as she ran through scenario after scenario, sifting through the possibilities as she searched for the truth hidden in the situation.

Outwardly, though, she brooded and any glances from Oskar would be met by the stare of cool brown eyes studying him dispassionately. Any further attempts to start conversation answered with a stoney silence. It was only when Oskar finally indicated they had reached the safe haven that she spoke.

"Okay." She waited, sure he would speak quickly, peppering her with his thoughts. "Okay, you can help. I don't care who you find, just make sure they are healthy. I do not wish to cause any heart attacks."
Edited by Katja Rissanen, Jun 21 2016, 09:23 PM.
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Oskar Van Keuren
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Oskar was, thankfully, completely oblivious to his domitor's inner turmoil. In fact, even if he had been party to it, he would have hardly contributed much, aside for perhaps earning himself another steely gaze.

Why was he helping her? Simple - because she had helped him.

Rescued him, in fact. Quite dashingly. You know, he'd never noticed before how her hair was the same colour as wheat. Golden. It suited her. It kinda lent a certain quality to -

Snap out of it, man! Work to do!

Thankfully, Oskar knew the people of Rotterdam like he knew its streets. There were easy... uh, subjects for whatever it was Katja required them. Was she actually hunting to eat or was she just pulling his leg? Guess there was one way to find out.

A couple of streets down from the safe house was, there was a local bar. A bit of a dive but Oskar knew one or two people there. He headed in that direction, keeping to the smaller streets and back alleys. The chances of his murderers diving straight into one of the local joints was slim and if they were drunk they would be distracted. Only problem with bringing out someone he knew was...

"Do they need to be... uh, disposable? I know a couple people around but it'd be nice if they didn't just disappear." he knew that she was probably hungry, or thirsty, or whatever the sensation was, but he needed a clearer instruction than just 'someone'. Maybe she was right, maybe he was just going to be in the way.

It was then that Oskar noticed the young woman, who was walking down the narrow street toward them. Right.

"Hey. Do you have the time? I don't have my phone on me." he asked the woman. She stopped some distance away from him, clearly distrustful (and why wouldn't she be). Oskar could only hope this gave Katja enough time to... do something.
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Katja Rissanen
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Disposable? Katja narrowed her eyes, for once her stony expression was intentional rather than born of awkwardness. The difference was scarce and it was unlikely that Oskar would read the difference. She longed to challenge his view of her inhumanity, to argue that she went to great lengths to avoid such acts, that she fed more often than many of her kind (usually at least) to minimize the amount of blood she needed.

She wanted to, yet her mind filled with the tumbling image of a reporter. Startled by the firing of a blank. Falling through illusory planks. Sealing the well. His tomb.

Katja was a murderer. Worse yet, the killing of that man had not weighed her down as it should. She was losing herself to the inhumanity of her Beast and she was not sure how to fight it.

Her eyes flickered to the approaching woman. It took just a small turn of her body and a glance down the road for her to become a part of the scenery. Another late night pedestrian, huddled in her coat and looking for her ride home. She ignored Oskar's fumbling attempts to distract the woman and waited for the woman to be gone before she looked at Oskar once more.

"This was a mistake." Katja kept her voice controlled, though she ended up sounding closer to emotionless rather than controlled. She shook her head, her mind on thoughts of hunting though her words were ambiguous. "My choice was wrong. We should go to your safe house now."
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Oskar Van Keuren
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Oskar indeed failed to notice the difference in expression. It said a lot about his own humanity, rather than hers, that he divided people into "disposable" and "not disposable". But that was a conversation to have at a later date. Perhaps... Or perhaps it was best to never open up that particular can of worms.

The passerby mumbled a time as she sped on past and... nothing. Oskar wasn't sure quite what he was expecting Whisper to do, but it wasn't nothing. So he stood there, hands in the pockets of his coat, completely dumbstruck. It was not that he was anticipating a Tasmanian Devil impression and a corpse left behind but... well, the films weren't exactly all that flattering when it came to vampires.

He tried to wipe the dumfounded expression off his face quick. "Okay." He didn't argue, after all, she knew best. If that meant that she would torture herself with hunger however, he wasn't sure that sat quite right with him. Still, he had no idea how Whisper actually worked physiologically, so instead of saying anything further, he headed back in the direction of the apartment building they had passed.

A multitude of questions burned in his throat and it was only discipline and inner self-scolding that helped him remain quiet. She clearly wasn't in the mood to talk. Then again, he wasn't sure he was ready for anything she had to say. About her, about them (as that had now become a consideration), about the nature of her condition.
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Katja Rissanen
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Katja lapsed back into silence as Oskar resumed his lead. As they walked, she monitored their surroundings on a constant watch for potential places enemies could hide. Another performing such acts might be revealing the paranoid delusions that exposed their insanity, forever seeing foes lurking at the edges of reality.

It was not the case for Katja. She did not actually expect attack nor did she think she had enemies at every corner. Some hated her, Nikolay most notably, but many only knew her by an alias and she was confident might never actually locate her. Beyond this, Katja's habit had formed before her embrace. She had been a spy, acting for the British government in Soviet controlled territory. A careful awareness was not paranoia. It was survival.

She followed Oskar at a half pace behind, as laconic as ever until he indicated that they had arrived. She glanced at the building just once, the single glance giving her enough information to find again. In her pockets, her fingers dug into the palms of her fists as she fought down her hunger. She spoke, traces of tension seeping into her voice as she did so.

"Okay. Meet me here tomorrow an hour after sunset. Before then find somewhere secure and private, somewhere we can talk without heard or disturbed." The vampire glanced aside, breaking eye contact before hesitantly continuing. "Are you... okay? This is a lot, I know."
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Oskar Van Keuren
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Oskar was also quiet on the way back to the apartment building. Despite the fact it was her own decision not to take him along for her hunt he couldn't help but feel he had failed somehow. And it made him rather anxious. His hands balled into fists in his pockets and all the emotions coursing through his being almost made him nauseous. Still, the question was - how had he certainly gone from a casual contact of Whisper's to caring so deeply for her approval...

A question for tomorrow night.

"An hour after sunset." he repeated, almost mechanically, the dull ache in his chest rather uncomfortable as he realised it was time for them to part for the night. Maybe he just never realised that he actually liked Whisper. She was alright. He didn't look at her either, almost anticipating her to simply walk away, just like she had done so many times before, when all they shared was business.

Her question caught him off guard and it probably showed by his bewhildered expression as he turned to look at her. A couple of steps brought him closer toward her. He wanted to say something but everything he thought he wanted to say sounded rather ridiculous, even to him. "I'm alive. I'm more than okay just... come back tomorrow night." He somehow thought saying it in a casual voice would make it sound less childish and needy. It didn't.

He turned to walk back into the flat and then remembered something. "What's your name? I mean... your actual name." he asked, fully expecting not to get an aswer, as his icy blue eyes held her gaze for as long as she was willing to look in his direction. "I'm Oskar."

It was odd indeed that after all this time they were just making their proper introductions. But they had never needed to. Until tonight.
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Katja Rissanen
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The Ravnos froze, her expression stony as a thousand reasons to ignore his request sprang to mind. He was a professional thief, his integrity had not been fully tested, the bond was still weak, the secret of her identity held power...

It was prudent not to tell him, at least not yet. To keep herself apart, maintain the distance as she had for decades since, well, the murder of Plumen, her sire.

Prudence be damned.

He had already stepped close but Katja closed the final distance and wrapped her arms about Oskar in a bout of apparent affection she had not performed for generations. She had intended it as a ruse, a way to bring her lips to his ear so her voice would not carry yet something within her, some spark of humanity dampened by years of solitude reacted. She could not help but stiffen awkwardly at the moment before speaking.

"Katya." She spoke her name with an accent not heard in her normal speech, Kat-Y-ah rather than Kat-yah. "My name is Katja Rissanen. Born in Maidstone, England, a lifetime ago."

Her eyes dropped to his neck and she stepped back quickly, away from the temptation. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coat. She had given him more than he requested. Her name alone was unusual enough to track through historical records let alone the town she was born in. Foolish, you idiot. Giving information, not selling it? Maybe it's not too late. The reporter found out who I was, was that freak chance or do I need to address the matter?

"Perhaps... see what you can find out about me? I wish to know what there is."
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Oskar Van Keuren
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Oskar's mind was racing and he couldn't really control the rapid beating of his own heart. It was odd and new, and he wasn't entirely certain he enjoyed it all that much either. When Katja stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him however that was truly it - he couldn't think for love nor money. His heart rate quickened further and he could almost feel the blood rushing to his cheeks despite his best attempts to prevent it from doing so. Good thing he was taller than her and that she didn't look up.

Without hesitation he wrapped an arm around her shoulders for a brief moment but allowed her the space as she almost jumped backward. What. The. Hell... Since when did two criminals, who barely knew each other,hug? Still, despite himself, Oskar had to admit that being that close to Whisper, even if it were for a mere fraction of a minute, was... kinda nice.

Boy, tonight had definitely messed with his head.

Conflicting emotions roared and clashed, bubbling just beneath the surface. Still, the Dutchman tried to keep a fairly straight face.
"Katja... It suits you." Oskar, you are one wet blanket.

He nodded in response to her request. "Consider it done." Wait, surely he would ask for payment, like he usually did. He didn't exactly owe her that particular favour and furthermore... "See you tomorrow night."

Still, he didn't move, pinned to the spot, waiting for her to walk away before he retreated to the safety of the near empty apartment.
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Katja Rissanen
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She had been wrong to embrace him. Had she a working heart, she was sure it would have thundered in her ears. Such sensations were not for the dead and felt utterly alien to the Kindred. Katja was turning to leave Oskar even before he spoke.

"Katja... It suits you."

The Ravnos paused. She couldn't help herself as she glanced back, one brow raised in a vaguely amused query. "Suits me? It is just a name, and not even one from the country I was born in. Until tomorrow night."

Hands in her pockets, shoulders hunched against the wind, walking with purpose and not seeming to observe her periphery, Katja blended as one of the faceless women of the city, heading home and hoping to avoid trouble en route.
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