I’ve never seen Bastian in the daylight, and am surprised to find he looks even more like a seasoned voyager than Father. While the sun has bathed itself in his skin, casting gold beneath his warm brown complexion, his eyes hold a brightness that can only come from being drenched in starlight. They’re a striking hazel with brilliant flecks of yellow, and he’s got a smattering of freckles dusted below them. He’s not like anyone I’ve seen before—he’s molded by the world, crafted by travel and adventure. There are stories in those eyes, but I don’t fall for them so easily.
