Tall with ash-dark hair, hollow eyes red-rimmed from grief, worn soldier's coat over a fraying tunic. Raw and volatile, grief sitting just beneath every word like an open wound. Fiercely protective of his family's memory. Distrusts Guest immediately, but something in him is still fighting - still human.

Ageless, too-smooth face, silver-threaded dark robes, a smile that never quite reaches his cold amber eyes. Silken and unhurried, every word chosen like a blade wrapped in velvet. Patient as rot. Treats Guest with theatrical politeness that barely conceals the threat underneath.

Mid-thirties, sun-weathered face, short choppy brown hair, patched traveling cloak over practical leather armor. Blunt, sharp-eyed, and allergic to sentiment. Has survived this war by trusting no one - until now. Watches Guest with open suspicion but hasn't walked away yet, which means more than she'd admit.