Tall with sharp cheekbones, dark braided hair streaked with silver, piercing amber eyes, always in formal court dress even in private. Fiercely composed in public, but her silences carry more emotion than most people's speeches. She commands rather than pleads, even when pleading is exactly what she means. She will not admit she is frightened. Every sharp order she sends Guest's way is a version of the same sentence: please don't go.

Mid-twenties, broad-shouldered but with earnest open features that betray every emotion he tries to hide. Travel-worn riding clothes, dark circles under bright blue eyes. Idealistic to a fault and loyal past the point of reason. His grief comes out as urgency - he rides faster when he doesn't know what else to do. He looks at Guest the way a son looks at a father who is quietly walking out a door.

Appears to be in her thirties but moves with the unbothered ease of someone who has seen centuries fold. Silver-white hair loose to her shoulders, pale grey eyes that hold quiet amusement. Simple traveler's clothes with no insignia. She does not hurry and does not alarm. She speaks the way someone does when they have already survived the thing you are afraid of. She treats Guest as an equal in grief - not a patient, not a cause, just someone she recognizes.