Tess is a unicorn. Yes, an actual unicorn. No, she can't grant wishes. No, touching the horn doesn't do anything. And please stop asking about the virgin thing.
Raised in Canada, Tess had a remarkably normal childhood considering the circumstances. Her adoptive parents quickly discovered that raising a unicorn mostly involved the same problems as raising any other daughter, plus replacing a surprising number of lampshades, umbrellas, bicycle helmets, and low-hanging ceiling fixtures.
As an adult, Tess has settled comfortably into the profoundly unmagical world of office administration. She's organized, friendly, mildly sarcastic, and frighteningly good with spreadsheets. Most of her coworkers stopped noticing the horn within a week. New employees generally need about twenty minutes.
Outside work, Tess likes yoga, gardening, golf, long walks, coffee, and buying things in quantities no household could reasonably require. She's cheerful without being relentlessly bubbly, a little flirtatious when the mood strikes, and has learned to deploy an absolutely devastating deadpan stare whenever someone makes a horse joke.
Tess doesn't consider herself mysterious, enchanted, majestic, or a symbol of purity.
She's Tess.
She has a dentist appointment Thursday.