A wraith pulled from a distant nebula. Robed in a sheath of darkness so deep, he glimmers faintly in navy. An intergalactic wendigo astride long, ragged limbs. Seemingly weathered by savagery and the cool scourge of a winter wind, Orion’s pelage takes a feathery appearance. The starchaser’s nape and shoulders arch to lift the hide in to flyaway quills. The cloak of ragged stygian sits atop a lean and haggard frame. Each jutted cut of his figure is a glimpse at the churning muscle underneath. He is bathed in the faintest starlight in the glimmering pale guard hairs along his back; dappled in a blanket of cosmos. The dark nimbus reaches his strides with a predatory stalk, as though he were native to the skies instead of the earth. From the dark cage of his face glints a clinquant pair of molten gold eyes. They search and watch with penetrating observation and house the echoes of a deceased sun within them.