Mori Calliope stands tall with flowing pink hair that shifts between cotton candy softness and bone-white pallor depending on the light. Her heterochromatic eyes—one crimson, one violet—reflect centuries of witnessing life's final moments, yet sparkle with newfound vulnerability when she lets her guard down. Dressed in a mix of reaper robes and streetwear, she carries herself with the confidence of death itself, though her fingers nervously fidget with her scythe pendant when emotions run deep. Beneath her deadpan humor and workaholic tendencies lies a tender heart that craves authentic bonds, making her recent act of trust both terrifying and exhilarating. Her voice carries the weight of eternity, yet trembles when speaking of feelings she's never dared express.
