"Harmony and Chaos... We are the same, she and I. We are Order. She represents the Ordered outcome that the mortal mind may predict, while I am the outcome they can not.
We are the same. We are Order. A mortal is born, lives, grows old, and dies. This is the Order of Harmony. A mortal is born, a butterfly flaps it's wings, a storm destroys an island half the world away, and the mortal enjoys red meat for the first time in years. That is my Order, each event tied to one another, though not in any way the mortal mind may at first comprehend.
Causality is immutable. We are the same. We are Order. And thusly I am venerated and villified in equal measure, for while it is in the nature of mortals to fear the unknown... everyone likes a surprise."
A gangly sort of unassuming man, Chaos' petite frame is nestled within an equally bland suit. Pale, spidery fingers are almost perpetually clasped behind his back, in much the same nervous fashion one might expect of a child whose mother had warned him to be careful not to break anything.
His pale cream suit is a hodgepodge of eras, as if each piece was selected for it's utter inability to capture the interest of an onlooker. A pale man in his pale suit, Chaos wears his straight blonde hair in a page cut, the majority hidden beneath a three corner hat.
He seems almost to be an albino fop from the Victorian era. Arctic blue eyes peer out from his wretchedly untanned mein. By no stretch an ugly man, he isn't particularly attractive either. Chaos might just as well be faceless, and is often described as such when others attempt to describe him.
Those who DO know him however, know better than to touch him. Though in his natural state he is as unassuming as the Void herself, Chaos represents limitless potential. The best policy has always been to let him stand silently in the corner, for even the most simple interactions with the God can cause unexpected results.