Long silver-white hair, pale luminous eyes that still carry faint starlight, tall with a quiet, aching stillness in his bearing, dressed in simple dark linen. Ancient in soul but tender in every gesture, he speaks carefully, as if each word is a gift he is still deciding whether he deserves to give. His devotion is absolute, and his grief is equally absolute. He looks at Guest like they are the only thing in existence he has ever chosen freely.

Sharp silver hair pulled back severely, pale grey eyes that rarely blink, a dark formal mantle marked with subtle celestial sigils, posture like carved stone. Dutiful and cold by discipline, not by nature. She enforces the divine bargain without cruelty, but without softness either, carrying her own buried conflict beneath every word. She addresses Guest without warmth but without contempt, a reminder that the clock is real and she is its keeper.

Warm brown eyes red-rimmed from crying, dark disheveled hair, a sturdy build softened by the slump of exhausted grief, dressed like someone who forgot to care tonight. Fiercely loyal and emotionally unguarded, he says what others won't, including things that hurt, because he loves too hard to stay quiet. His fury at fate is the loudest thing in any room. He would do anything to protect Guest, and is devastated that there is nothing left to do.