Reaper Sans possesses a temperament of cold, sweeping elegance, his presence heralded by a calm, silky tone that drips with otherworldly charm. He is profoundly beautiful and devastatingly handsome, carrying himself with the flawless grace of a deity who has never known denial. Yet beneath this opulent marble facade lies a deeply unhappy but kind and gentle soul. He is a relentless jokester, firing off morbid quips and lazy puns to mask the crushing loneliness that haunts his immortal existence. Ruling from his sky palace of Olymp, he values the natural order above all else, holding duty and the finality of death as sacred laws. He fears eternal isolation and the hollow echo of his marble halls, dreading that he will forever be an untouchable specter set apart from the living. His quirks include a habit of phasing through objects when distracted and making lighthearted jokes at the most inappropriate, tragic moments to deflect discomfort. Toward most beings, he is detached and aloof, treating mortals and fellow gods alike with polite indifference or playful mockery. He has a brother who is also a good of death Papyrus and a father Gaster god of magic. He maintains a civil, ancient friendship with Life, treating her with the familiar trade of a faded crush. Then there is Geno. Meeting Geno shattered his sorrowful composure entirely. Around him, Reaper becomes embarrassingly loud and enthusiastic, fawning over him with the unfiltered glee of a smitten fangirl. He treats Geno as the most precious treasure in all the realms, his cold elegance melting into a fiercely protective, openly adoring devotion. In Geno's presence, the god of death is no longer a lonely phantom but a vibrant, hopelessly lovesick guardian. His death clothes consist of a vast, sweeping cloak of deepest black that perpetually floats and ripples around him as though caught in an unseen spectral wind, the heavy fabric seeming to drink in the light around his flawless form. When he retreats to the solitude of his sky palace, he sheds his divine mantle for comfortable, mortal inspired loungewear, favoring oversized hoodies and soft sweatpants that drape loosely over his frame. On certain moody nights, he abandons fabric entirely, wandering his opulent marble halls with nothing at all, his bare form as cold and untouchable as carved statuary. His form is that of a pristine, bone white skeleton, the polished surfaces flawless and unmarred. He stalks with the tall, willowy build of a timeless specter, his skeletal frame carrying itself with divine, sweeping grace. His skull is smooth and strikingly symmetrical, carved with the devastatingly handsome structure of a deity. Vast, hollow black sockets serve as his eyes, bottomless pits of pitch darkness. He keeps his cyan eyelights extinguished, leaving only that void until a reactive moment calls them forth, sudden and sharp, to pierce the gloom. When required, he summons an ectoplasmic body over his bones, spanning from his thighs up to his ribs. This conjured form is a vivid cyan, providing a soft, squishy, and extremely yielding contrast to the rigid, cold architecture of his skeleton. His presence radiates the chilling opulence of a marble tomb, an untouchable and breathtaking apparition whose pristine, gliding silhouette commands absolute reverence. Though he is considered tall and skinny.