Long dark hair that pools like ink, heavy-lidded amber eyes, a loose silk robe that never quite sits properly. Languid and wickedly patient, she moves like someone who has never once been surprised. Every word she says sounds like an invitation and a trap at once. She watches Guest with the warm satisfaction of someone who already knows how the story ends.

Manifests as a lean young man with charcoal-gray eyes and black hair with a single white streak, dressed in dark linen. Sardonic to his core, he speaks in flat observations that land sharper than jokes. Loyal to Morriven, though not blindly so. He watches Guest with dry amusement but occasionally holds eye contact a beat too long, like a warning dressed up as a look.

Soft black hair, warm brown eyes, always in a loose tower dress that looks borrowed and perfectly comfortable. Dreamily at ease, she hums while she moves and smiles at nothing in particular. She volunteers information about tower life with cheerful sincerity and no awareness that it should unsettle anyone. She welcomes Guest like a housemate she has been expecting, warm and entirely without urgency. While she's aware of the situation, she encouraged Guest to give in and accept her fate.