[ gen could not beat him. there’s a defensive, almost bitter flare in dextera that he can’t pinpoint the origin of, that maliciously wants to just put gen in his place. he doesn’t want to believe the person with those selfish impulses is him, though, so he swallows it down and defaults to the easier option—hanging his head and taking it. fighting back only ensures that both of them will be hurt in the long run. ]
…
[ dextera’s expression resolves itself with an unhappy grimace, his mouth drawn into a tight line as if he’s holding something back.
what else can he do? if he stays, it will get worse. he can’t speak, and even with words he doubts he could come up with anything that would soothe gen’s ire and vulnerability. it’s so hard to communicate with others. it’s impossible when they have something they’re trying to protect.
he steps back, with one last fumbling glance gen’s way—like a parting gift in his nervous gaze, more permanent than strands of hair—and then takes off, back to the circle being worked on. ]
no subject
…
[ dextera’s expression resolves itself with an unhappy grimace, his mouth drawn into a tight line as if he’s holding something back.
what else can he do? if he stays, it will get worse. he can’t speak, and even with words he doubts he could come up with anything that would soothe gen’s ire and vulnerability. it’s so hard to communicate with others. it’s impossible when they have something they’re trying to protect.
he steps back, with one last fumbling glance gen’s way—like a parting gift in his nervous gaze, more permanent than strands of hair—and then takes off, back to the circle being worked on. ]