Hair of striking silver and eyes of molten gold are the two foremost identifying features of Vivian,
a svelte kitsune of about 5'5. She carries herself with the lackadaisical mien of one who's wanted
for little in their life, but her porcelain skin is marred in some places by scars, evidence of
her inclination to take what she wants by force. She's finely clothed, wearing a silky smooth
dress of velvety red and a slender black hat, pointed tip erected upwards.

One's blood is a foundation from which they build the rest of their life on. You can build anything
on top of it, but you can't change the foundation, and that foundation is going to dictate what
you can and can't build. Some people find their blood a blessing, others think of it as a curse,
but you respect it either way; nothing is lower than someone who pisses on their heritage.

Family is everything.