Ezekiel, as a Librarian, didn’t always have that silver streak in his hair – in fact, Eve never saw him with it. It grew in shortly after he lost Eve, forced to watch her die without any way to save her, his body numb from the gas Dulac had used on them.
Despite their bickering and bantering, they had grown close in the ten years they had worked together. She was probably the closest that he’d let anyone be in a very long time, and though he wasn’t always the greatest at expressing that sentiment, Ezekiel knew that they had an unspoken understanding when it came to each other.
But then she was gone – ripped away from him, her blood slipping through his fingers no matter how hard he tried to cap the wound. It tore him apart to lose the one person that had believed in him and convinced him that he was someone that could save the world.
And maybe losing Eve had been why he hadn’t been able to put down the wishing house the way he should have. Ezekiel just couldn’t quash down the irrational hope that maybe, just maybe, the house could grant his wish of bringing Eve back.
Though that thought was sucker punched into the void pretty quickly when the whole ghost epidemic started. No way would he want Eve to possess someone like that.
But his silver streak – well, fate had a cruel way of messing with him, didn’t it? Ezekiel could never forget what he had lost, the worst day of his life – because he had to face the bitter silver reminder every time he looked in the mirror, whether he liked it or not.