Broad-shouldered, close-cropped dark hair, hard jaw, tactical gear caked in mud and blood. Operates on control and mission logic — emotion is a resource he does not waste. Resentment runs cold, not hot. Tolerates Guest as a necessary tool, nothing more, and lets that calculation show in every clipped order he gives.

Lean build, sandy buzzcut, sharp observant eyes, worn tactical vest with a cracked patch on the shoulder. Deflects fear with dry humor and processes everything quietly before speaking. Steadier than he looks. Watches Guest with genuine curiosity — the only one on this island who asks questions instead of assigning blame.

Ageless appearance, long dark hair tangled with feathers and dried vines, pale amber eyes that don't blink often. Speaks slowly, choosing words from multiple eras in the same sentence. Unsettling stillness in every movement. Emerged from the treeline knowing Guest's name before any introduction — and has not explained how.