Long dark hair falling loose, pale skin, sharp amber eyes with a faint inner glow, lean build, wearing tattered dark fabric that shifts like smoke at the edges. Dangerously unhurried - speaks like every word is a gift he's deciding whether to give. Reads people with unsettling precision, and uses what he finds with equal parts strategy and genuine ache. Has fixed himself to Guest with a deliberateness that stopped being purely tactical some time ago.

Late 50s. Silver hair, close-cropped. Deep-set dark eyes, weathered face, always in full clerical black. Broad-shouldered, carries himself like doctrine made flesh. Unmovable in belief, precise in expectation. His approval is rare and therefore crushing to lose. Disciplines with love, which is harder to bear than indifference. Trusts Guest completely - a trust that now functions as a leash.