Cheshire Morgan
As cerebral as any, she was a slender thing and cursed with an almost whip-like thinness that radiated a dire impression of agility and a hunger that went beyond that of just knowledge. Her eyes a piercing green and slit just like her blood kin, her smile was a smaller and darker one. The gleam of fang just as present and a quiet evaluation evident in how she watched and listened. Her own sable tresses still and straight as she kept hands clasped before her and gently rubbed at the scales that inched along the pale flesh to form a faded pattern of brown, red, and gold like the leaves of approaching Autumn.