The game that Nemeon and his sister play with his stone-turning is not fun but he needs to believe that it is. So he gives the haloed Baptiste a smile as if to say ‘yes it is’ even if it’s a lie. Even if it’s a game they had to start to play because reality was so depressing, because it was better than the days where Nemeon tried to run away from the sun and was caught in mid-stride with an expression of absolute fear. Because even though it may never be actually fun for him, at least if he pretends otherwise his family does not have to look at his horror and pain frozen on his face for the entirety of a day before he animates again.
Not yet experienced enough to realize she might prefer to talk about him for the same reasons he prefers to focus on her, Nemeon watches Baptiste as she answers his question. He tilts his head curiously at her soft laugh, as she tries to brush off what she had just said.
“I think it makes sense.” He offers in a quiet, sincere voice. “The night was chosen for us both and we both wish it was different.” Though he does not understand why she thinks she is made for the night. Why anyone who could walk beneath the sun would choose differently, even if it did not feel like a choice.
Still, there is a new sense of comradery that rises in his heart at the idea that there might be someone else caught up in the darkness like him. Or, close enough to like how he is for there to be some common ground.
@
baptiste
