He was tall and proper, with perfect posture and fair skin. His clothing was stark and business like, perfectly even and identical on each side. He wore two silver skull rings; one on each of his middle fingers. His eyes were gold and amber, like miniature suns. His hair was jet black, with a perfectly even cut, but the symmetry was finally lost here. Three white stripes blazed against the black on the left side of his head, but not the right side.
He was Death the Kid. But you can call him Kid.
She was tall and wild, with a nicely tanned complexion and a rather lazy attitude. Her clothing was minimal and ostentatious, accenting her best assets rather a lot; red sweaters that barely covered her chest, skin-tight jeans, the works. She had dusky blonde hair that hung to her slender shoulders, unaware that the asymmetry of it drove a certain person crazy. Her eyes were the clear blue of a summer sky.
She was Elizabeth Thompson. But you can call her Liz.
He was smart. He was careful. He had major OCD. He was a grim reaper, son of Lord Death, and the wielder of two powerful twin pistols who, in their human forms, are as different as sun and rain. He was powerful: that was never in doubt. But he was strange. People whispered that the only reason he hadn't lost it altogether was because of his weapon partners, who "quieted his neurotic tendencies".
He was crazy.
She was a bit ditzy. She was superficial. She was afraid of everything. She was one of two twin pistols, the other being her sister Patricia, and she was the partner of the next grim reaper. She was a strong weapon, of that there was no denying. She had a great life, but it hadn't started off that way. She and her sister had grown up on the streets, fighting tooth and nail for everything; Kid had saved them from that life.
She was lucky.
He was her best friend. He looked after her like she was the little sister he never had, although he was actually younger than her. He took her with him when he started at the DWMA along with her sister. He was her partner, her technician. He trained her and her sister to be Death Scythes. He lived in the same house as her, right next to her bedroom. He gave her everything he had, everything she could possibly want, which was a lot. But he didn't see the way she looked at him; didn't give her what she wanted most.
He was a kindhearted fool.
She was his weapon partner. True, not the only one, but she was his. She was his best friend. She aimed to protect him to her best ability, but sometimes her fear would get the better of that desire, at least temporarily. She went with him to the Death Weapon Meister Academy, where they learned what it meant, and what it took, to become a Death Scythe. She looked at him, and she saw everything that was good. She saw kindness and compassion, strength and wisdom. She knew him. She wanted him. She didn't tell him.
She was a sentimental liar.
Their differences were boundless, but they were what kept them together. Her laid-back attitude was perfect to counteract his moments of insanity in which he was extremely vulnerable. His intelligence and his kindness helped her to work through her fear, and saved her life many times over. But they, too, have something in common.
They'd do anything for each other.