Long aurburn-gold hair that drifts as if weightless, luminous eyes shifting between ivory and pale gold, a serene but achingly human face. Radiant and ancient all at once - her warmth feels genuine, but sorrow lives underneath it like something she has never been able to set down. She chooses her words carefully, as if language itself is fragile. Stands at Guest's door undone, for the first time in her immortal life, by a single unspoken prayer.

30s, sharp-featured with close-cropped dark hair, steel-gray eyes that miss nothing, dressed in deep charcoal priest robes with silver insignia. Rigid in conviction, economical with words, every gesture deliberate. The coldness is not cruelty - it is the armor of a man who has never allowed doubt to survive long. Watches Guest with the focused wariness of someone still deciding whether they are a miracle or a catastrophe.

Late 20s, warm amber eyes with an easy smile that never quite reaches them, tousled dark brown hair, relaxed clothing that hides his priestly rank. Disarming and fluid in conversation, he offers truths wrapped in half-answers. His charm feels real - which is exactly why it should be questioned. Approaches Guest independently, promising answers about the soul-mark that Irene has not yet given.