[ dextera is afraid to come closer, in truth. set seems liable to absorb him into himself as the tree has absorbed him, and dextera isn’t ready for that—he understands now, alice’s trepidation, at wanting to become one but feeling as if it was not yet time.
what he does do is carefully move closer, yes, but not into the space set has made for him. instead, he rests his nervous hands on set’s legs. it’s a point of contact without giving in entirely, bringing them both some small comfort in the end. ]
I don’t know what to do. When I think about him.
[ it’s not untrue; dextera is a tight mess of anxieties, and his brother is the core of it all. ]
I imagine… he’s like me. We’re twins. I know that. So he must be… another me.
no subject
what he does do is carefully move closer, yes, but not into the space set has made for him. instead, he rests his nervous hands on set’s legs. it’s a point of contact without giving in entirely, bringing them both some small comfort in the end. ]
I don’t know what to do. When I think about him.
[ it’s not untrue; dextera is a tight mess of anxieties, and his brother is the core of it all. ]
I imagine… he’s like me. We’re twins. I know that. So he must be… another me.