Part of Sidhe knew she ought to have called for Avery, or perhaps even her own mother, and yet she found herself completely unable to fathom why in that moment. Vainglory did not seem like a threat, and if anything, she had begun to feel a certain kind of curiosity towards him -- a deep kind of interest, a kind of familarity. In a way, she wanted to selflishly keep a hold of that feeling until she understood it better. In the wind, she could hear murmurs of agreement. The moors, the very swamps themselves, agreed with her judgement. Like the mists, he seemed to be a part of the very landscape itself. Was there anything wrong with wanting to be the one to unravel the mystery that surrounded him? He was alive in a different kind of way, a quiet and subdued kind of way.

Her ears flickered to attention when he spoke, her entire face suddenly alive with a fervent interest. She seemed to lean towards him, into his space. Sidhe was, after all, all too eager to hear what he might have to say. His voice made her skin prickle, and she felt a shiver down the length of her spine. Part of her felt his voice, just like the moors seemed to. Was this, she wondered, how her father had sounded? She could not shake the feeling that had begun to take form - the feeling that Vainglory was somehow connected to her through Wraith. Beltane might have known for certain but still, Sidhe put off calling for her.

Then, her breath was taken from her in but a fleeting moment. Like that, the names flowed out of Vainglory and into the eager maws of the swamps. Sidhe took a step back and grinned. In fact, her entire face seemed to soften to an expression somewhere between relieved and concerned. Part of her father was alive elsewhere, not just in she and her siblings. It made her want to press herself into him, to feel what warmth her father might have had when he was alive...But she resisted. Instead, she seemed to settle on her paws after a moment of restlessness, trying to find composure.

"Wraith was of Ruvindra and Paldor, and I am of Wraith, the Wolf of Taviora and Iromar, the Ghost of the Moors," she said slowly, softly. Sidhe had a tender voice, and even more so when she spoke of Wraith, and when she knew that her words had likely answered Vainglory's unspoken question. She had seen it lingering in the air between them, after all.

"You have been away, Vainglory. Would you like to walk?" She paused for a moment, her lips taut with thought before they broke into a grin again. "I would like to know you, Vainglory. I have waited to know a wolf like you, a wolf like Wraith." Her tail waved slowly, a little uncertain perhaps, but she motioned towards the path she had taken to him. It lead into the moors, but she would let him lead if he so desired to explore his former home. To Sidhe, Vainglory was a guest like no other. He was her guest, after all.