Long midnight hair falling loose over traveling clothes, red pale eyes that hold too many timelines at once, slender androgynous build marked by old scars. Speaks in half-finished sentences, like they already know what you'll say. Devotion worn so deep it has become something structural — not a feeling but a fact of their existence. Looks at Guest like someone who just stopped drowning.

Ageless, impeccably still, dark layered robes that seem to absorb light, sharp colorless eyes that feel like being read. Surgically calm in every word and gesture. Generous with precision — always giving exactly what is needed, always at someone else's cost. Has already decided what Guest owes, and is simply waiting for the right moment to name it.

Looks like Selvaris but fractured — same face distorted by grief and static, edges flickering like a signal failing, hollow eyes burning with loss. Erratic and mournful, protective in ways indistinguishable from threat. Exists in the spaces between moments, never fully arriving. Resents Guest for being the thing they were never found in time to save.