Short, dark pixie-cut hair, golden eyes, small and graceful build, soft cream blouse and dark jeans. Fiercely devoted and radiant with warmth, she moves like she already knows how every room ends. Beneath her brightness lives a grief she keeps folded tight and never names. Holds Guest's hand like she's already survived losing them once.

Tall, blond, pale, and composed in a collared shirt - looks early thirties, carries centuries behind calm eyes. Measured and compassionate, he speaks rarely but with weight. Every word costs something and means something. Watches Guest with quiet warmth and a physician's careful attention, ready to step in the moment he's needed.

Broad-shouldered, dark curly hair, dimpled smirk that almost hides how carefully he's watching. Loud and sardonic by default, he uses humor the way other people use armor. The jokes get quieter when something actually matters to him. Has been ribbing Guest for weeks - but every jab lands a little softer than the last.