[private] the shadowy corners of me

[Nemeon]

Nemeon’s bitterness comes in cycles. There will occasionally be nights where he wakes up just happy to be breathing again, where he finds beauty in the twilight hours that he is stuck among and the solitary life it seems to foster. Those nights he’ll watch the fireflies, tilt his horned head upwards to count how many shooting stars he can see. He’ll revel in the life that appears at night - though there is no way for him to know how it differs from what happens during the day.

It is all too easy to sulk - the unfairness of not being able to witness daylight, except as imitated by a friend -  and the pressing knowledge that his very existence is poisonous.

Tonight, when his body changes from stone into flesh, Nemeon feels the crushing weight of loneliness.

He wants this to be a night where he finds Anaise again, or maybe his twin sister. Or even his reclusive mother. Anything, anyone, to ease the near-silence of the night.

He had been deeper into the forest when dawn had come, some instinct encouraging him to find a quiet spot for his statue-self to rest during the day. Every part of him itches to go to where the trees are sparser now, from his wings that are longing to stretch to the ache in his heart just wanting to find someone to talk to.

Nemeon lingers just for a second, as though checking to see whether this desire to be social is fleeting, but it just continues to compress and then finally the young stallion is moving among the shadows - golden eyes bright and alert for signs of any one else. 

NEMEON

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