#sibyl.

Ooh fun question, anon! 📚

VALENS would roll their eyes. At first, they would make little snide remarks like, “You do realize they do not exist, yes?” but once they see you truly have a crush on that character, they would never let it go. The next time you landed yourself in trouble, Valens would appear at your side with a wry smirk, drawling “And where is your beloved now?", waiting for you to plead with them before stepping in to help out.

For CALDER, it would depend less on who the fictional character was and more on what exactly MC sees in them. He would ask a few mild questions here and there, smiling as though he were merely indulging your enthusiasm. A valiant hero would earn approving nods; a charming villain or tormented antihero would interest him far more. “And what, precisely, do you find forgivable in them?” he would ask, with an intensity that feels strangely personal.

SIBYL would secretly acquire the book and read the entire thing in one night, partly out of curiosity and partly because they desperately want to understand what makes this fictional person so special to you. They would begin unconsciously borrowing little habits from the character— how they speak, how they dress, perhaps even recreate a scene for you, all in hopes of getting you to like them more.

ERIS would regard it as an act of insolence. They would have the book silently disposed of and replaced with several lavishly bound volumes chronicling the royal bloodline, every chapter concerning Eris conspicuously marked. One volume would even bear a hauntingly beautiful portrait of them on its cover. If confronted, they would scarcely glance up. “I merely ensured you have better things to occupy your imagination.”

Hi anon! Happy to have you here and glad to hear you're enjoying the story and characters thus far— thank you!! 🩵 We love reading what you guys are plotting for your MCs hehe

VALENS would have a hard time looking at them at first, despite the guilt gnawing at them for it. Besides disliking their own eyes for various reasons, Valens is actually a carbon copy of their own mother; someone they only hold resentment towards. And funnily enough, this would lead to them being almost glad that their child prefers MC over them.

On the other hand, CALDER wouldn't mind at all if his children shared his features— in fact, he'd treat it like the world giving him a second chance at his own childhood. If the kids monopolized MC's affection, he wouldn't fight it at all. He would defect to their side and help them scheme.

SIBYL would be the first to point out the tiny ways the child is yours instead— from small mannerisms they pick up from you, to the subtler hints of you that would elude anyone's eyes except theirs. At first, Sibyl may feel saddened at being the less favored parent, but they wouldn't give up easily. They'd keep trying to win them over.

As we well know, ERIS would be delighted if their child resembled their likeness, and they'd be insufferably smug about it. They would see the child's rivalrous spirit as just another aspect that mirrors their own traits. Out of principle, they would compete for MC. They have never once let anyone win, and they are not starting with their own heir.

ROs APPEARANCES 

VALENS ; the neighbor (m/f)—

Standing at approximately 178cm (5’10), Valens’ has a face carved in ice— sharp angles and pale shadows. Their complexion is a porcelain with cool undertones, pallid to the point of appearing bloodless. Raven-black hair so dark it glimmers blue beneath daylight frames their haunting features. Near lifeless, stormy grey eyes rest beneath straight brows, ghosted by bruised skin that whispers of sleepless nights. Their high cheekbones, sharp jaw and defined collarbones cast valleys of shadow. Their frame is slender, almost fragile, yet they move with an eerie sharpness, every step calculated, every gesture precise— like a blade sheathed in silk. An unsettling kind of beauty. Their long fingers often trace the faint scar on their right cheek when lost in thought, and an onyx ring set in sterling decorates their ring finger. There's something untouchable about them, as though they exist just beyond reach.

CALDER; the knight (m)—

To echo the sentiments of those who have seen him, Calder looks to be taken straight out of a fairytale book. His halo of platinum blonde hair is faintly wavy, catching light like spun gold thread, complimenting his glacial blue eyes. His symmetrical, sculpted features made him reminiscent of a marble statue— too perfect to seem entirely real. Standing at a towering 191cm (6’3), his frame is broad-shouldered and lithe, tempered by discipline. He moves with the kind of elegance that doesn’t ask for attention but commands it regardless. Even at rest, he holds himself like someone who bears the weight of others’ hope. Impossibly steady. His lips that curve with practiced grace are marked by a single dimple on the right cheek that lingers longer than his warmth ever does.

SIBYL ; the companion (m/f/nb)—

Sibyl's very presence feels dreamy and delicate, like a living portrait half-wrapped in prophecy. They’re hard to place at first glance, with golden-brown skin that catches light like polished amber, and long, black ringlets that fall in tight spirals around a gentle face. 169cm (5'6) in stature and a lithe frame, there’s an almost fragile air to them, as if they’re halfway between a dream and waking. Their eyes, one warm brown, the left clouded gold— blind— are round and liquid, framed by dark lashes and perpetually on the verge of knowing something you don’t. There’s a serenity to their easy smile, but it’s the kind that follows mourning.

ERIS ; the crown (m/f)—

Eris is 184cm (6'0) in height, every inch draped in calculated poise and veiled menace. Their warm ivory skin bears an olive tint, unblemished, made to be admired— never touched. Tousled chestnut hair falls in effortless waves, its softness a striking contrast to the sharpness of their features and fox-like hazel eyes that seem to look right through you. Their presence presses on the air like a storm before lightning— electric, predatory, impossible to ignore. Their refined build is always draped in embroidered robes, furs slung carelessly over one shoulder, gold and gemstones crowning their every gesture. There is a reason no one meets their eyes for too long. It is not reverence, but fear.

Anon, you're in enemy territory 👀 The ranking would be as follows:

ERIS — The 'if I can't have you, then no one can' type. They'd rather lock you away in a tower than let you out of their grasp. Literally. If you're possessive, they’ll push you, perhaps mention another’s name just to see your reaction. They want to see your control slip. They want to know you burn for them.

VALENS — Jealousy eats them alive if they're given enough suspicion that your thoughts might be elsewhere. One step too far, and you're dead to them. They spiral easily but won't show it until they explode. If you're openly possessive, they'll become more guarded but secretly relish in it, feeling relieved.

CALDER — Jealousy isn't natural to him. He’s been taught to let things go. To serve, not to want. But you'll feel his piercing eyes follow you from afar. He doesn't know how to handle jealousy toward him though, other than following you around more diligently so you'd have ease of mind.

SIBYL — Their jealousy doesn’t coil like rage, it wilts like mourning. They'll speak less, smile gently, swallow their own feelings until they feel sick. If you're possessive, they're ready to relinquish all autonomy just to remain by your side.

To the anons who yearn for the angst like we do, thank you...

The moment your hand flies toward them, VALENS doesn't flinch— they catch your wrist. An instinct, a reflex, years of violence stitched into their muscles like second nature. But when they see your eyes— wide, glazed with terror, not recognition— their grip slackens. “It’s me,” they say, low and flat. They don't take it personally, they've done the same. Worse even. They don’t try to touch you again, at least not yet. They just stay there, crouched beside your bed, watching over you.

You strike out— shoving, panicked, not fully awake— and CALDER takes every hit without a sound. His hands raise and he stays still, just waiting until your eyes find his and focus— until you realize. Only then does he kneel again, slower this time, not quite touching. “You’re safe,” he murmurs. “It was just a dream.” He stays up with you after, if you want. Guarding the door like whatever haunted you might try again

The swing of your arm knocks their hand away—and SIBYL draws back sharply. Not from pain, but from surprise. Then they see your face: the panic, the tears. And the guilt rushes in before your breath even steadies. But they're already beside you again, gentle and unsure. “I shouldn’t have touched you. That was my fault.” They place something warm in your hands—a cup, a cloth, whatever they could find. Their fingers brush yours. Then, quieter: “I won’t leave, if that’s okay...”

The moment you lash out, ERIS catches your arm in a steel grip. Effortlessly, like snatching a falling glass. They watch the fear and the confusion all play out in your face like a theatrical piece. The way you recoil from their touch, and the way your pupils shake. But they don't let go, only tighten. Their expression doesn’t change, but their voice loses its usual edge once they see the look of recognition returns to your gaze. When your breathing evens out, they lean forward, elbows on knees, voice almost a whisper: “Next time, let it be me who haunts you.”

Welp, now I know who my favorite RO choice is

OH FOR SURE SIBYL would cosplay, rp, larp, literally anything if it's what MC wants. Welcome to the Sibylmancers!