Is that ZENDAYA? No, that’s just CALIPHE TOPAZ. They were born on 28/10/1999 and are an IVY FAIRY living in Northknot Town. They work as a FIFTH YEAR SURGICAL RESIDENT. Some say they're INTELLIGENT and METICULOUS, but I’ve heard others say they're INSECURE and PARANOID. When you think of HER/THEM, don’t you think of SCRUB CAPS WITH NATURE PRINT, OVERGROWN TRELLISES & THE STERILE FLOORS OF THE HOSPITAL?
Name: Caliphe Anastasia Topaz, M.D. Pronunciation: KAY-lif ah-nah-STAH-see-ah toh-PAZ Nickname(s): Cali, Fee, Ana, Tope, Cat Birthday: October 28th Age: 26 Zodiac Sign: Scorpio Sun, Gemini Moon, Scorpio Rising Gender: Cis-Female Pronouns: She/They Species: Ivy Fae Sexuality: Pansexual, Demisexual Occupation: Surgical Resident Faceclaim: Zendaya
HEADCANONS
Caliphe's a soft-spoken, goody-two-shoes. The worst thing she’s done is tell someone she liked their new shoes when she really didn’t. It had her breaking out in hives, and she's never lied again, even to spare someone's feelings
She has a photographic memory and is working to become the best surgeon of her time
She meticulously decorates her scrub caps with embroidered ivy patterns, adding a personal touch to her uniform
Caliphe keeps a collection of pressed flowers in her medical textbooks, symbolizing her blend of precision and her connection to nature
She lived a very sheltered life and didn’t do many things outside of school and eventually work
She didn’t have her first drink, kiss, etc... until she was 21
She struggles with sleep (has really bad nightmares) and will sometimes do things to help her stay awake at night (stimulants, pinching, etc)
Everyone who was in town back then know about her kidnapping except for her
Caliphe practices yoga and meditation to center herself after long hospital shifts, often combining these with aromatherapy using herbal scents like lavender or chamomile
Despite her busy schedule, she makes time to help out at the local shelter.
Caliphe writes down her thoughts and experiences in a journal daily, which helps her process her past and stay grounded in her present. She also fills the pages with affirmations, medical reflections, and sketches of surgical techniques, which she decorates with tiny ivy motifs
She’s always gentle with animals and is known to feed stray cats near her apartment.
Despite her loving nature, she’s cautious about forming new friendships due to her past trauma
Sometimes when she can't sleep, she goes for long walks through the city, finding solace in the quiet streets and the night sky
Her parents’ names are Camila and Caspian, both are doctors, and one is the current Ivy Fairy Clan Leader
Her older brother’s, the middle sibling, name is Ford (Crawford) Topaz. Her wife’s name is Saskia Berry, and their daughter’s name is Kiri Berry Topaz. Her ex’s name is Callista Albrecht
APPEARANCE
Caliphe radiates a gentle and approachable charm with her softly curled hair, often left in its natural, voluminous state, though she occasionally straightens it for a sleek look. Her attire leans toward a sporty, tomboyish aesthetic, favoring neutral tones like black, white, and subtle earth hues that complement her Ivy fairy essence. She wears comfortable sneakers, paired with jeans or athletic wear during her off-hours, but can elegantly switch to a flowy dress for special occasions. Her delicate green wings and fairy marks shimmer softly, hinting at her mystical heritage, while her demeanor is consistently warm and inviting. Caliphe’s presence is marked by a serene, almost ethereal quality, highlighted by her ever-present, soft smile that conveys both kindness and a hint of introspection.
PERSONALITY
Caliphe is a soft-spoken and kind-hearted individual who exudes warmth and gentle charm. Known for her intelligence and meticulous nature, she is a perfectionist in her work, striving to become the best surgeon of her time. Despite her serene exterior, Caliphe harbors insecurities and paranoia rooted in her traumatic past, including a childhood kidnapping she doesn't know about. Her sheltered upbringing left her cautious and sensitive, yet she possesses a quietly determined spirit. She thrives in nurturing environments and finds comfort in routines, her connection to nature, and small, selfless acts of kindness. While she radiates positivity and optimism outwardly, Caliphe often contends with darker, self-critical thoughts when alone. Her resilience and compassion, however, define her, as she works tirelessly to overcome her fears and build a life filled with love, purpose, and healing.
AESTHETIC
stethoscopes - white coats - pills - ivy-covered hospital walls - scalpels - wounds - crisp pages in medical journals - blood - bones - warm, golden fairy lights twinkling in a dark apartment - medicine - journals filled with gentle handwriting - sterile - needles - studying - the soft glow of moonlight on green wings - books - ivy - the contrast of sterile hospital whites against earthy greens - glimmer - sparkles - trees - grass - scrub caps with nature print - intricate, overgrown trellises - the sterile floors of the hospital - fairy lights in her apartment - delicate surgical instruments - pressed flowers in medical textbooks
CONNECTIONS
Parents They raised her with this soft, anxious kind of love—the kind that hovers, the kind that double-checks the locks twice. Caliphe’s always felt the warmth, but she’s also always felt… watched. Smothered. They treat her like she’s made of glass, and she can’t figure out why. It creates this weird ache: she loves them fiercely, but their overprotectiveness grinds her nerves down to dust. She doesn’t know they’re guarding a secret—she just thinks they don’t trust her, and it’s starting to pull threads loose.
Older Siblings (1/2) (Crawford) Caliphe’s still tight with her older siblings—that hasn’t changed. They’re the kind of trio that can fall back into old rhythms without thinking: inside jokes, shared looks, nonsense arguments over nothing. But her siblings hover. They hover. Always checking where she is, always texting “home yet?” like they’re her second and third parents. She laughs it off, calls them dramatic, reminds them she’s not the baby with the chubby cheeks anymore. They laugh back, but there’s something unspoken behind their eyes. She has no idea it’s fear—she just thinks that’s what older siblings do. And for now? She lets them. Because being loved too much is still better than being loved too little.
BIOGRAPHY
tw: kidnapping, drug abuse, ptsd, self-harm, pregnancy
Caliphe was born during a stormy chapter of her parents’ marriage — the kind of timing that made relatives murmur that she saved the whole thing just by existing. She didn’t make an easy entrance, either. Born with an intracranial hemorrhage, she was rushed into life-saving neurosurgery hours after taking her first breath. She survived, barely. Her parents never forgot it. Her early childhood had one defining fracture: She was kidnapped as a baby. When she was only a few months old, her family visited a park. Her father went to park the car; her mother pushed the stroller toward the playground with Caliphe’s two older siblings trailing behind. One fell, scraped their knee, and Caliphe’s mother instinctively chased after them. It took only seconds—and when she turned back, the stroller was empty. Caliphe was gone.
You can do the impossible because you survived the unthinkable.
It took three years for police to find her. She was discovered in a grocery store with several older kids who had also been taken, all of them stealing food. They knew it was her because of the heart-shaped birthmark on her wrist. Her family never took their eyes off her again. After years of therapy, Caliphe forgot the kidnapping entirely. Her parents chose to keep it a secret from her, hoping she’d never have to carry that weight. She was enrolled in a high-security, year-round private school and raised under a watchful, loving, slightly suffocating eye. She still managed to be exceptional. A photographic memory carried her through school at lightning speed—graduating grade school at thirteen, then the University of Toronto at sixteen, and ultimately their medical school by twenty. Her family kept her close, protective in a way that always felt a little too tight but rooted in love.
The song has ended but the melody? The melody lingers on...
She took a year off after med school to travel, a rare act of rebellion—and she came home just in time to watch her older sibling, Crawford, graduate from medical school. The celebration trip that followed should’ve been perfect. Instead, he was severely injured cliff jumping. The traumatic brain injury changed everything: the tremor, the cognitive fallout, the death of the future he’d worked for. He’d wanted to be a neurosurgeon more than anything. Caliphe promised herself then that she’d do it for him. The two of them were supposed to start their surgical internships together that summer. Instead, she began alone—carrying Ford’s abandoned dream like a second stethoscope around her neck. Her twenties were messy beneath the genius veneer. The nightmares got worse, and she barely slept. She found herself slipping back toward an ex she should’ve stayed away from—her first love, her first everything, the person she used to party too hard with. It was a comfort and a poison. Pride, betrayal, pregnancy, distance… it was a long, painful untangling. They’re friends now, in the fragile way that only former futures can be.
We are all broken, that's how the light gets in.
Somewhere in all that chaos, Caliphe grew into the kind of resident who lived in the hospital: first one in, last one out. And then there was her, Saskia Berry—the older neurosurgeon she’d watched for years in the gallery. One of her first inspirations. They became friends, quietly intertwined, stealing sleep in on-call rooms and understanding each other in ways that didn’t require language. A kiss at a friend’s wedding unraveled the rest. Their relationship was everything her old one wasn’t—stable, gentle, grounding. A place she could land. Caliphe proposed in July 2024, hands shaking, and she said yes. They married on June 3rd, 2025—a small ceremony in the hospital's chapel after Saskia was pulled into an emergency surgery on their wedding day and Caliphe moved the ceremony to her—and took an extended honeymoon to New Zealand, where they unexpectedly adopted a newborn. They came home as a family of three.
The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.
A few days after their Halloween-themed wedding reception, tragedy struck her new family: the attack on the Berry siblings. Saskia shattered in ways Caliphe couldn’t fix, and she’s been balancing support, fear, and her residency ever since. The nightmares have crept back in, sharper now, but she’s learning to manage them instead of numbing them through self-harm and substances. Now in her fifth year of surgical residency, the final one before her board exams, Caliphe stands right on the edge of becoming a board-certified neurosurgeon—the dream she inherited, the one she’s fought for, the one she’s built her life around. She’s exhausted. She’s hopeful. She’s in love. She’s a mom. She’s a wife. She’s a survivor several times over. And she’s finally starting to believe she deserves the future she’s running toward.
