Nemeon’s eyes do not drift down from the halo until the girl says that she is not made of the sun. Only then does he meet her gaze, see the small smile she offers him instead of the answer he had hoped for. Disappointment creeps in, though it is quickly squashed. Of course she wouldn’t be the sun - how could he look at her if she was? He would have turned to stone the moment the light from her halo entered his dark world.
The grey colt adjusts his leathery wings at his sides and takes a step back, remembering himself now that he is actively trying to think of things other than her halo.
His eyes keep slipping upwards, though he doesn’t mean for it to happen.
With a squeeze of those wings, his golden eyes are back down to her gaze, when he offers “Nemeon. I’m Nemeon.” And then, belatedly, he realizes how odd his question must have been and he quickly tries to fill up the silence with more words. “I’ve never seen the sun, I’ve always wondered what it’s like.” His sister has explained it to him so often she's grown tired of every time he's asked, but every description feels unsatisfactory. He just knows it creates a world of warmth and gold and not the silvery, shadow world he is trapped within.
@
baptiste
