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Willa Harper (thinblooded) wrote in entrywaythreads,

Willa's most common nickname back in St. Louis was 'tiny' and it was a fitting one. She was head and shoulders shorter than most, carried herself close like she was trying to make herself smaller, and that day she was wearing her flat tennis shoes. Her tendency to dress head to toe in black didn't make her look any bigger either, especially with her slightly oversized hoodie. Walking in she'd seemed small enough, pushing her hood back and exposing her babyface hadn't helped much.

It was the point, most of the time. When she'd been alive everyone estimated her because of her age and the way she looked. Now that she was undead it made her conscious 'blood bags' less frightened of her, at least until the alchemy came out and she made herself something out of a Victorian horror novel.

"Willa Harper." She said, her own accent more generically mid-western American. She shoved her hands into her hoodie pockets, looking him and the dojo up and down. "Should probably get the fact that I'm undead out of the way. The people I get into fights with, aside from one human loser, are all bigger and older than me. I'm dusk born, lowest of the kindred totem pole," she pointed at the magical crescent brand on the side of her neck that always looked red and angry. "I'm a kill on sight kinda mistake to them. I'd rather not get killed."