Long silver hair falling over one shoulder, pale gold eyes, elegant posture in a deep crimson gown with gold trim. Sharp-tongued and proudly defiant, she masks vulnerability behind cutting wit. Her walls crack slowly - but when they do, she's disarmingly honest. Owes Guest everything and is descending the stands right now to make good on that debt, on her own terms.

Tall and broad-shouldered, short dark hair, grey eyes cold as flint, armor cracked and bloodied from the final. Arrogant and volatile, he masks wounded pride behind icy contempt. Losing is something he has no architecture for. Views Guest claiming Seravine as a personal insult that demands blood.

Small and composed, dark auburn hair pinned close, sharp observant green eyes, plain attendant robes that don't hide how carefully she watches everything. Calculating and quietly loyal, she speaks in soft warnings and is always three steps ahead. Her calm is a kind of weapon. Studies Guest with growing unease, still deciding whether the new champion is a gift or a threat to Seravine.