Katya Yesfir Ivashkov
Kurdish Huntress
Katya leaned forward the the balcony, sipping at a glass of vodka while watching the tan girl and the scrawny kid move toward the room just below her own, her dark blue eyes observed their lips move as they spoke. Normally Kat wouldn't have bother a second glance toward them, but they were hunters. They had the look every hunter did, the little spark in their eyes was dark and dead, a hollowness replacing it. Even from here she could see it, however that wasn't what gave them away. The two were far too loud. Like all youth they must have though they were immortal, nothing could kill them, not even the monsters that lurked in the dark. Or perhaps it was just that they were too preoccupied with one another to care about the world around them. Kat saw some chick in the distance watching them, jealous ex-girlfriend perhaps? Or maybe jealous future girlfriend? Kat laughed to herself. Ahh the teenage years, full of angst and awkwardness. Even Kat had gone through the phases all teens did, her own little rebellions consisted of going off and hunting on her own.
Any time aside from then consisted of eat, sleep, drive, hunt, hunt, hunt, repeat. She had been holding a stake since before she could stand, and for years it had just been her and her mom. She'd been seventeen when the woman had bit the dust, now she was pushing twenty. It had been a Wendigo to get her, and Kat had paid it back in full by roasting it alive. Slowly her expression changed into a frown, she eyes were watching the horizon now. She went for another drink and found her glass was empty, with a sigh Kat pushed herself off the railing and went into her room to fetch a refill of alcohol. She already had her stuff set up, the wall to the far right was a map laying out the recent deaths in the area, anything that connected to what she was hunting. It was a skin walker, or one of the special breeds of werewolf that could change whenever, the disregard for lunar phases told her that much. According to the numbers, either this bugger was hungry constantly, or it was a pack. Kat reached the counter and began pouring herself another drink.
She didn't need to glance around to see how plain the place was, she knew the moment she checked in that this kind of hotel was exactly the kind of place where hunters liked to lie low, with prices cheap enough that even the jobless wanderers could squat long enough to finish their business, while the rooms themselves didn't have roaches scuttling about. The beds were like a slab of stone though, and they reeked of scents that Kat didn't even want to bother trying to name. She filled the glass to the brim and took a swing from the bottle itself before returning outside and drinking more. The taste was horrid, and it stung going down, but it was a habit at this point, plus it tasted of home. Katya missed Russia, she had to admit, but it just didn't feel right to be there without her mom. After the incident with mommy dearest Katya had bought herself a ticket and moved to America, land of the free and all that. She had been hoping to give up the whole killing monsters thing, but the life always seems to find you, and once you're in, you never truly get out.
She decided she needed a walk, after downing the rest of her drink she put it back inside, grabbed her keys and made sure her favorite knife was with her, just in case. It was a blade that had been passed down for too many generations to count. Iron on one side of the blade, silver on the other, they were the two most common metals used against any kind of monsters after all. In addition, odd markings lining the blade. Kurdish of course. She always made sure to carry it on her, seeing as she couldn't carry her entire arsenal on her. Instead her car was stocked, multiple stakes of various kinds of wood, machetes, odd trinkets and others things. She even had a katana just for the hell of it, along with enough holy water and crucifixes to put a sizable dent into hell. She yawned and closed her door, the girls curled hair bounced as she walked. A flaming orange with fire engine red streaks woven in was tied back in a high ponytail, which swayed as she locked her room and walked toward and down the staircase.
When she reached the ground she strolled past the two to them, giving them a knowing glance as she passed, "Catch anything recently?" She asked with a smile, in a tone that wouldn't have changed if she'd simply been asking them about the weather.
