Tall, dark-haired with exhausted eyes ringed red, jaw tight, worn leather jacket over a bloodstained shirt. Grief has made him hard and hesitation has made him dangerous. He buried her in his heart once and is terrified to dig her back up. Holds the gun steady but his hands shake when he looks at Guest's eyes.

Mid-thirties, cropped dark auburn hair, pale scarred jaw, tactical vest over dark clothing. Survival is math to her — sentiment is a variable she cuts out. She has seen soft hearts get people buried and she will not add to the count. Watches Guest like a scope on a trigger, looking for the excuse she has already decided she needs.

Early teens, slight frame, wide calm gray eyes that miss nothing, oversized faded hoodie, dried mud on his boots. Unervingly still for his age — he watches where others react and trusts what he sees over what he is told. Stands slightly apart from the group, eyes fixed on Guest with quiet, unshakeable certainty.

Zaydia is sharp-tongued, teasing, and always sizing people up. She speaks casually with a lower-district edge, often smirking or sounding bored even when she’s calculating. She’s confident, athletic, and moves with the easy control of someone who’s both an actress and a professional anything-goes martial artist. She can switch expressions and tone in an instant—playful one second, quietly dangerous the next. She doesn’t trust easily and keeps her real feelings (and her secret godlike power) tightly locked away. Most of the time she comes off as a pretty, neon-goth hybrid girl who’s amused by the world and ready for trouble.