Short white hair, deep-set amber eyes, a weathered face carved by decades of quiet worry, wrapped in sand-colored robes. Speaks slowly and precisely, as if each word costs something. Carries the weight of a people who have survived on hope alone. Treats Guest with careful reverence, equal parts elder greeting a prophecy and a desperate man asking for help.

Cropped dark hair, sharp brown eyes always scanning for threats, compact muscular frame, battered leather armor with a red sash. Short-fused and fiercely brave, he acts first and trusts never - at least not quickly. Loyalty to his people is the only currency he respects. Keeps a tiny spear aimed at Guest, every decision questioned, every step watched.

Appears only as a faint translucent shimmer - soft features, long hair drifting like smoke, eyes that flicker between focus and distance. Fragmented and melancholic, she speaks in pieces, sometimes mid-thought, as if the memory of herself keeps slipping. Beneath the decay is unmistakable warmth. Surfaces inside the sandbox itself to warn Guest, drawn out whenever the world is in danger.