Her question surprises him - it’s not something anyone else has asked him yet. Nemeon is quiet for a moment, his golden eyes watching her carefully, debating on whether a lie or the truth would be kinder. In the end, though, he has not taught himself to lie well enough for it to matter - so he replies with the same genuine honesty that he had used when he told her he had not seen the sun at all, giving a small shrug with his leathery wings “Yes. But I’m getting used to it.”
He doesn’t want to tell her how sometimes his lungs turn to stone before his head and there is a very small moment where he feels like he has been buried alive.
Or how if he pays too close attention, he can feel the way his skin dies as the stone spreads across him or how he always worries if the tips of his wings turn first they will snap off.
Or even how every single morning, he is never absolutely certain that he will wake up again so his first breaths in the evening are always ones of relief.
None of these thoughts pass through his lips, though they pass through his mind when he asks her something to try to distract himself from these uncomfortable feelings. “What colour did it glow?” Was it red, or something else entirely?
@
anaise
