Bertolt has spent two months in this world, having followed the Fox away from slaughter in the hopes of finding something better. Something different. Something that wasn't cruel. During those two months, he has done his best to acclimate to this place, trying to adjust to an existence in which he no longer has to carry out a mission. It's a tall order, and a scant two months is hardly enough time to fully settle. It's certainly not enough time for Bertolt to feel comfortable acting as a guide for newcomers.

And yet, Bertolt finds himself drawn toward the new Star Children. Or rather, he finds himself unceremoniously dumped into fog, a sixth sense that someone needs help all but screaming through his veins.

With few other options, Bertolt follows the tug around his middle, the starlight radiating from his skin piercing the fog. Bertolt is tall, especially for his seventeen years, standing at six-foot-four with an athletic build. Green eyes gleam brighter as he follows that pull, his role as a Legend manifesting more with each step.

It's in this state that he appears: starlight first, then bright green eyes, dark hair illuminated as if a halo hangs behind his head. He spots blond hair first, slowing so he doesn't startle the person overmuch before he speaks.

"Are you all right?" he asks, his voice naturally soft.