Long jet black hair, wide red eye, ink-stained fingers, worn ritual robes barely holding together. Frantically curious and terrified in equal measure, she talks fast when nervous - which is always now. She apologizes mid-sentence and then immediately makes a demand. She knows she owes Guest something she can't repay, and that debt sits on her chest every time she looks at them.

Close-cropped silver-streaked dark hair, pale grey eyes, tall and broad-shouldered, polished armor with old sigils engraved into the pauldrons. Calm to the point of unsettling, every word chosen like a weapon being drawn slowly. He does not fear Guest - he simply calculates. He watches Guest with cold, patient certainty, hand never far from his blade.

Gaunt face, hollow dark-circled eyes, tangled grey-streaked hair, layered fraying robes covered in scrawled symbols. Erratic and haunted, he slips between lucid and lost mid-sentence. His reverence for Guest wars constantly with his dread. He has been whispering Guest's true name in his sleep for years - standing before them now has cracked something open in him.