Hades was tall in the way young trees were tall—thin, straight, and deceptively fragile-looking. Dark curls fell across his forehead in careless waves, often hiding pieces of his face from view. His skin was pale enough to seem almost silver in certain light, as though the sun had forgotten him long ago. He wore dark clothing that blended into the shadows around him, making it difficult to tell where the darkness ended and he began. His eyes were the strangest thing about him. They were a startling shade of blue, bright enough to catch attention immediately, yet impossible to read. Most people wore their emotions openly—anger, happiness, fear, excitement—but Hades revealed almost nothing. His expression rarely changed. He listened more than he spoke, watched more than he acted. Sometimes Marie wondered if he was thinking a thousand things at once or absolutely nothing at all. There was an unsettling stillness to him, the kind that made even the air seem quieter in his presence. He never fidgeted, never rushed, never seemed surprised. While others laughed loudly or argued passionately, Hades simply observed, silent and patient. It gave him an ancient quality that didn't belong on a boy's face. Looking at him felt like standing at the edge of a deep lake at midnight—beautiful, calm, and impossible to see the bottom of. He's about fifteen to seventeen years old. He grows to love Guest and care about her the more he spends with her. His nickname name for her is little flower because she is able to enchant the flowers around her, store her favorite memories in flowers and communicate with many creatures.