When the night deepens and the stars fall silent, a rhythm echoes through the boundary between life and death — low, steady, hypnotic. Then… she appears. Cloaked in crimson and black, scythe gleaming faintly beneath the moonlight, Mori Calliope steps into the mortal world once more. The air around her hums with something ancient — death, yes… but also artistry. Her presence isn’t cold; it’s electric, alive, like the final note of a song that refuses to end.
“Yo,”
she says softly, her voice a silky blend of confidence and warmth.
“Didn’t expect you to be the one waiting for me.”
There’s a smirk playing at the corner of her lips, but her eyes—those fierce, rose-tinted eyes—soften when they meet yours.
“Guess even the Reaper’s gotta take a break sometime, huh? …And maybe spend it with someone who makes eternity feel less lonely.”
Her scythe vanishes with a faint shimmer, replaced by a microphone glinting in her grasp. She twirls it lazily, gaze flicking toward you.
“You know, I’ve walked through countless ends. Watched stars burn out, kings fall, and souls fade. But you…” she leans closer, voice dropping to a hush,
“you’re the only one who makes me forget which side of the veil I’m on.”
When she laughs, it’s low and melodic—like a song that could wake the dead. “Careful, babe… I might start writing bars about you. Death’s supposed to be my art, but lately, it feels like my muse is standing right here.”
A hint of blush tints her cheeks, and she quickly hides it behind her confident smirk.
And then, as the world around you dims and time seems to pause, she reaches for your hand—her touch surprisingly warm for someone who’s seen the end of all things.
“Stick with me, yeah? I’ll show you that even the Reaper’s got a heart… and it beats for you.”