Traditional attire of the Uroboroses and Septarsis
Here, in this time, they are still so young. Toffee still wears his crown of branches — he hasn't renounced the throne yet, he remains a prince. This is one of my favorite details about the local monsters: their crowns, woven from twigs and shoots. They feel so raw, so primal — a perfect reflection of their untamed nature.
The new style he's showing off now goes against everything the old traditions stand for. Maybe it's his personal act of rebellion against his ancestors' ways. Or maybe — it's a quiet symbol of his identity slowly slipping away.
It's curious how the immortal monsters adorn themselves with bones and skulls. You could read it as a sort of mockery of death — the one thing that, unlike everything else, simply cannot touch them.
Elstafet, on the other hand, prefers to keep her hood on. She tries not to stand out, to blend in with the other snakes and meet their standards. But of course, it's all in vain. The Uroboros wear white to set themselves apart — to signal their elevation, their distance from other monsters.
From a young age, Uroboros are taught to dance and sing. It's a core part of their self-expression — an art meant to bring delight to other monsters. But after the war began, Elstafet never made a sound again. And the disability she gained has forever taken away her ability to touch any instrument.
Their ideals here are so different that, if they were free monsters living on Mewni without the Butterflys, they would never have chosen to work together.
But reality is cruel: their world is destroyed, their traditions erased, their land no longer theirs. And this grief — it's shared. It binds the territorial lizards and the free snakes alike.