[ dextera now has a grimy strand of hair in his hand, which he had initially hoped to offer as a show of good faith—but after all, to no great surprise, it was a little too abstract to communicate without the context of language. ]
…
[ he flicks away the hair, and lightly shakes his head in response to the suggestion. he flexes his fingers instead; there is, in fact, visible dirt under his fingernails that suggests he’s already gotten some experience scratching words in the ground. a stick might be more dignified, but he’s already a mess and the apocalypse has brought his sense of dignity down to zero anyway.
he crouches, and motions for gen to follow so that he might be able to read what dextera writes. setting an ‘I’ on top of all the the other words in case he needs to use it again, he painstakingly writes out a sentence. ]
I don’t need help
[ then he glances up, a natural pause for confirmation. his hand is still hovering, though, to say that he’s not done just yet. ]
no subject
…
[ he flicks away the hair, and lightly shakes his head in response to the suggestion. he flexes his fingers instead; there is, in fact, visible dirt under his fingernails that suggests he’s already gotten some experience scratching words in the ground. a stick might be more dignified, but he’s already a mess and the apocalypse has brought his sense of dignity down to zero anyway.
he crouches, and motions for gen to follow so that he might be able to read what dextera writes. setting an ‘I’ on top of all the the other words in case he needs to use it again, he painstakingly writes out a sentence. ]
I don’t need help
[ then he glances up, a natural pause for confirmation. his hand is still hovering, though, to say that he’s not done just yet. ]