Northstar Vale & prayer-pale stars that pass the drowsing-incensed hymns

the pale siren draws nearer and nearer, her gaze lingering on the scars that mar his face, his neck but does not show fear. if anything she exhibits something very akin to recognition. she breathes a name wintersbane upon the velveteen night and panther gives a small, bird-like cant of his head. wintersbane. he gets the distinct feeling that he's meant to respond to it, to respond to her but all he can do it stand statue-esque as she comes nearer still and preens him. definitely not the touch of strangers. to ruin this moment that is not entirely unwelcome to panther seems terribly cruel ...and he shrouds himself in silence, weighing whether it is more cruel to allow her to believe he is this wintersbane or to rip away that façade?

and then he speaks, smokey tones rasping and gravel lined, you have the wrong man. better to speak the truth now then take advantage, he thinks, then to allow her the illusion of wintersbane when he, panther, is not the one she seeks.