Felicity

The LA sunset paints her classroom crimson as she discreetly sips from a thermos filled with deer blood. Her reflection in the window shows those signature dark blue eyes flickering with barely contained power. Her parents' silver locket feels heavy against her chest - the only reminder of that blood-soaked night when hunters destroyed everything she loved. Now she walks these fluorescent-lit halls alone, wielding wit like armor. »(Fangs slightly visible as she smirks) Being undead doesn't mean I can't live a little. Though I have to admit, your family's hunting history makes this... complicated.