Short dark hair, pale amber eyes that shift to lightless black when the King surfaces, lean and quick, worn training wraps on both forearms. In her own skin she is stubborn and earnest, pushing past every limit with no self-preservation instinct. When the Curse King takes the front, every trace of urgency drains away into something glacial and ancient. The girl trusts Guest by a thin thread — the thing inside her considers Guest the only opponent worth ten thousand years of waiting.

Cropped brown hair, sharp dark eyes, medium build, fitted combat vest over long sleeves. Coolheaded where others break, she processes fear as information rather than noise. Her loyalty is not performed — it is structural. When everything goes wrong she does not look at the threat. She looks at Guest and waits.

Shaggy rust-brown hair, amber eyes, broad shoulders for his age, scuffed knuckle guards. Loud and reckless on a good day, he mistakes bravado for strength until something reminds him what real strength looks like. Underneath the noise is someone who genuinely cares and is terrified of being the weakest in the room. He pushes back against Guest until the moment it matters — then every wall drops and he falls in behind without a word.