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[breeding]

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HOMELANDER

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[redsoil]

It is within my power, and you are my friend.

[ There is an intense, burning power in the way he wields that word: friend. A rarity in and of itself, for a god to name anyone as sworn and true a companion as a "friend", even a "best friend". The last one he had was his own sister, Isis, and they had shared everything together — first loves, heartbreak, plans and dreams, arguments and forgiveness, secrets and acts to honor one another. Until, in his pain and grief and madness, he'd thrown everything back in her face and chased her into the depths of depravity, just to hurt her for abandoning him, ignoring him because she wanted her husband's love more than anything. If he can treat Homelander better than he did her, maybe

one day

she will forgive him, and he can forgive her. Maybe, they can be family again. ]

I know how you feel. Do not think you need to hide anything from me. Be at your worst, okay? You will always have my support.

[ It's the best he can offer. Recalling Nephthys. Recalling their broken, mangled marriage bond. How badly he wants to see her and speak with her and go home to her. He knows, truly. So, as Homelander comes to rest against him, he silently runs his hands along the muscles of his back, his shoulders, and wraps them around his shoulders. Nails light along the tidy hairs at the nape of his neck, as he encourages Homelander to let go. Let loose. Succumb to the madness within him, without fear. ]

🎀

[breeding]

[ That's the cruel thing, isn't it? Maybe. Maybe is too immaterial, too uncertain, for beasts made to exist in the binary of victory and loss. Maybe he'll see her again. Maybe she'll remember him. Hope, already fraying and dissipating even as he tries to hang onto it.

The moment Set's hands find him, the dam breaks. Homelander weeps, years falling away from his trembling shoulders until only the boy is left, lonely and desperate, trapped in a sterile cage. The difference, here, is that he isn't completely alone. There's someone here to listen, someone here to hold him as he allows himself to feel the full scope of his loss. He's always wanted this, hasn't he? A true friend?

You will always have my support. How many other people could say that, for him?

So he sobs until he goes hoarse, until he's too tired to move. His worst: not his urge toward violence or his view of those he considers lesser, but this terrible, crippling weakness. Set accepts it all. ]