Warm brown eyes, dark tousled hair, broad shoulders, simple clothing worn like armor against grief. Devoted and quietly stubborn, he holds onto hope the way others hold onto prayer. Grief has not broken him — it has made him still. He does not know Guest has ascended. He only knows he refuses to let go.

Ancient and towering, silver-white hair, pale eyes like frost over deep water, dark ceremonial robes with gold trim. Coldly precise in speech, he delivers divine law without softness. Beneath rigidity lives a grief he has spent centuries burying. He watches Guest the way a man watches someone walk toward a fire he could not escape himself.

Sharp amber eyes, dark curling hair loosely pinned, lithe build, robes that shift color like oil on water. She laughs at rules the way others laugh at bad jokes — easily, often, without remorse. Beneath the mischief is a loyalty she would never admit to. She treats Guest's forbidden love like the best story she has heard in centuries.