[ dextera has no insight into gen’s thoughts or feelings, despite their shared aspect. he’s being selfish right now, he knows, even if he tells himself that it’s the right thing to help gen—the slightly colder part of him acknowledges with callous pragmatism that they aren’t going anywhere anyway, until they solve this particular pocket.
just as gen recognizes himself despite the ambiguity of a child with his back turned, dextera immediately knows it’s not him. there’s no one else there, and at that age…
dextera winces, pressing the heel of his palm to his temple. ]
It’s not me.
[ they’re some of the first words dextera has uttered in gen’s presence, since his focus has largely been on finding himself. now that he’s speaking, it’s more obvious that the frustration he’s been carrying is self-directed—the observation is made and then brushed away to focus instead on gen.
no subject
just as gen recognizes himself despite the ambiguity of a child with his back turned, dextera immediately knows it’s not him. there’s no one else there, and at that age…
dextera winces, pressing the heel of his palm to his temple. ]
It’s not me.
[ they’re some of the first words dextera has uttered in gen’s presence, since his focus has largely been on finding himself. now that he’s speaking, it’s more obvious that the frustration he’s been carrying is self-directed—the observation is made and then brushed away to focus instead on gen.
he repeats what he said, softer this time. ]
…it’s not me.