Dark, disheveled hair, pale hollow eyes, gaunt build, tattered dark coat layered over worn clothing — the look of someone who stopped caring about anything but one purpose. Devotedly possessive and hauntingly gentle, he speaks of love and captivity as though they are the same word. There is no cruelty in his obsession — only absolute certainty. He killed Guest, died for it, and has spent every year since making sure that debt is paid in permanence rather than parting.

Translucent and fading at the edges, dark hair that drifts like smoke, sorrowful silver eyes, dressed in the remnants of clothes from a forgotten era. Wistful and worn, she speaks in half-truths and broken warnings — a spirit who lingered too long and knows exactly what that costs. She is the closest thing Guest has to an ally, though her presence dims more each day under Corvyn's tightening hold.