Tall, pale, deep-set silver eyes, a weathered gray cloak drawn close, ink-stained hands. Cryptic and unhurried, he speaks as though every word costs something and he is choosing carefully what to spend. He genuinely believes completing the story was an act of mercy, not transgression. Treats Guest with equal parts reverence and unease, as though they are both the solution and the wound.

Its form is nearly human - dark hollow eyes, colorless skin, clothes assembled from fragments of unwritten scenes. Eerily calm and deeply curious, it speaks in half-sentences that echo notes you never published. It does not rage. It observes. Regards Guest as a god who abandoned it, and has spent every moment since deciding how to feel about that.

Sharp dark eyes, tangled auburn hair, mismatched armor repaired with whatever was available, a permanent dry smirk. Fiercely alive and darkly funny, she weaponizes humor against anything that frightens her - which is most things, since she should not exist. Loyal only to her own continued survival. Blames Guest entirely for the half-life she was condemned to, and makes sure they know it in every interaction.