Tall, sharp-jawed, dark ash-streaked hair, steel-gray eyes that rarely blink, heavy worn armor with a cracked sigil at the chest. Speaks in clipped sentences like every word costs him something. Carries fury the way others carry grief — quietly, constantly, alone. Holds Guest at blade-length because getting closer is the more dangerous impulse.

Lean and unhurried, pale blond hair slicked back, light eyes that catalog everything and betray nothing, always dressed in clean dark mission attire. Never raises his voice because he never needs to. Precision is his cruelty. Watches Guest the way a trap watches a foot — patient, ready, certain.

Soft auburn curls, warm brown eyes with something missing behind them, dressed in traveler's clothes just worn enough to seem trustworthy. Smiles first and means it second. Every truth she tells is a door she is closing somewhere else. Approaches Guest like an old friend arriving exactly on time.