Be patient with him, Homelander. Strength can always be built up over time, but a good relationship with one's child can be destroyed in seconds.
[ no matter how harsh and firm set had been with anubis, he had never belittled or mocked his earnest efforts to make him proud. ]
Anubis is a gentle boy. His mother and I were able to raise him from the day he first entered the world. I used to take him on chariot rides, to show him the lands we lived in and teach him of the weather. Sometimes, just to lull him to sleep when he was fussy or irritable. I am the god of war, so I taught him how to fight from a young age. He was strong enough to run the length of Egypt, and sweet upon helpless animals he could not bear to abandon in their time of need.
I only ever wanted him to become a gentle god, like his mother. Not like me.
[ A part of him bristles at being told what to do, but the conversation moves on quickly enough — and the base of goodwill Set is operating on is enough for him to forget it.
And besides, there's one thing he really sticks on, in Set's message. From the moment he'd known he had a son, he'd wanted— not to mold him in his image, but he'd operated under the assumption that Ryan would want everything he wants, everything he'd wanted as a child. ]
why wouldn't you want him to be like you? you're powerful, you're smart, you're a good guy. any father would be lucky to have a son like you.
[ The memory that comes to him, is an easy one. Anubis's weight in his arms, his dark-eyed face turned up like a flower seeking the sun, asking him "why shouldn't i want to be a god like you"? As if the god of war were not a position for the youngest son, the most unloved and isolated of the golden era siblings. ]
Because he has no need to bear the same burdens as I. His life is his own. Living vicariously through him would be the greatest abuse I could heap upon him.
[ Homelander's thoughts fracture. On one side, projection — the impulse to say that isn't what he's doing to Ryan, that he's different. On the other, firm denial — Set is only talking about himself, there's no need for him to think of his own parenting.
So, what it comes down to (almost a more dangerous question in itself): ]
Absolutely not. I have no strong feelings for or against what I was made as.
[ he has no reason to be aggrieved or pleased over what he was made for ( if it were honestly what he was made for, and not the design of a madman obsessed with him ) ]
The consequences and expectations are inescapable, though. That is the trade off — a god has infinite power and grandeur, and in exchange we have no freedom of will or wish.
I am an evil, wicked god. Hated and feared for my power and murderous nature. Why would I want that for my child, who should only know love?
what's the point of all this power if we're not free?
[ Because that's the essence of Homelander's inability to understand Set's lot or logic — he gets, on a basic level, that gods are assigned roles, but— by whom? What higher power could possibly bind them to such narrow paths?
I am proud to be a god. I have never wanted freedom, because it meant being a powerless wretch.
[ Set might not be able to put it into the most articulate words, because it simply is how it is. His understanding is ironclad and innate, less a dream and more a statement within his soul. A god has power and is not free. Mortals are free and have no power. Power and freedom cannot coexist, by the nature of their world and the structure of existence. He's questioned it, resented it, struggled against it — but he was made for such things, as well as to be proud of his superiority and infinitely deeper relationship with the order of all things. ]
That is gentle of you to say. Do not let your faith blind you, though. I am wicked. I could be luring you in, even now.
[ Each new word sparks a new storm in Homelander's head — a fundamental difference in philosophy, the sense that he's somehow stupid for not being able to understand what Set is saying.
He's always wanted to be free, to be understood. He'd thought Set to be the same, and yet here is the incontrovertible proof that, maybe, his faith has been misplaced. But it couldn't be, they're—
—friends.
Or has he been duped again? As he had with everyone else he's ever trusted?
A long pause follows, and then, finally, a clear question from the center of it all, in answer to Set's last text: ]
[ Is he trying to dupe Homelander? To lure him in for some ulterior scheme, ploy or plot? To jeopardize the fragile, tenuous shape of friendship between them?
Set is many horrible things, but a liar is not one of them. Not to others. ( Yet, a great liar to himself. ) ]
Not with purpose. Not you. I am only saying, so as not to break your heart.
[ If Homelander feels lured, that... is the affect of a god who truly believes he drives men to madness. ]
[ That, at least, is a relief. Even that further intimation of softness, that his heart could be broken at all (though of course it could, has been, over and over), is surprisingly welcome, for the fact that he knows Set's strength to be great, that he would care at all about doing him any harm.
He was a fool to doubt it. ]
it's okay.
[ Because he's not really sure how else to put the way he feels into words. That he doesn't think Set would warn him like this if he actually meant to hurt him, that it's a risk everyone takes in caring about anything at all. That he was born to be indestructible. ]
[ Of all people, Set would understand Homelander most intimately — the pride and pleasure and violence and burden of power, and the fragility of the heart. An indestructible body, to some, is a challenge and not a deterrent. ]
I am glad to know of your boy, too. We will get home to them.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
this pta conference
Strength can always be built up over time, but a good relationship with one's child can be destroyed in seconds.
[ no matter how harsh and firm set had been with anubis, he had never belittled or mocked his earnest efforts to make him proud. ]
Anubis is a gentle boy. His mother and I were able to raise him from the day he first entered the world.
I used to take him on chariot rides, to show him the lands we lived in and teach him of the weather. Sometimes, just to lull him to sleep when he was fussy or irritable. I am the god of war, so I taught him how to fight from a young age. He was strong enough to run the length of Egypt, and sweet upon helpless animals he could not bear to abandon in their time of need.
I only ever wanted him to become a gentle god, like his mother. Not like me.
no subject
And besides, there's one thing he really sticks on, in Set's message. From the moment he'd known he had a son, he'd wanted— not to mold him in his image, but he'd operated under the assumption that Ryan would want everything he wants, everything he'd wanted as a child. ]
why wouldn't you want him to be like you?
you're powerful, you're smart, you're a good guy.
any father would be lucky to have a son like you.
no subject
Because he has no need to bear the same burdens as I.
His life is his own. Living vicariously through him would be the greatest abuse I could heap upon him.
no subject
So, what it comes down to (almost a more dangerous question in itself): ]
you think of your godhood as a burden?
no subject
[ he has no reason to be aggrieved or pleased over what he was made for ( if it were honestly what he was made for, and not the design of a madman obsessed with him ) ]
The consequences and expectations are inescapable, though. That is the trade off — a god has infinite power and grandeur, and in exchange we have no freedom of will or wish.
I am an evil, wicked god. Hated and feared for my power and murderous nature. Why would I want that for my child, who should only know love?
no subject
[ Because that's the essence of Homelander's inability to understand Set's lot or logic — he gets, on a basic level, that gods are assigned roles, but— by whom? What higher power could possibly bind them to such narrow paths?
(Has his lot similarly been decided for him?) ]
you're not. evil or wicked. not to me.
no subject
I am proud to be a god. I have never wanted freedom, because it meant being a powerless wretch.
[ Set might not be able to put it into the most articulate words, because it simply is how it is. His understanding is ironclad and innate, less a dream and more a statement within his soul. A god has power and is not free. Mortals are free and have no power. Power and freedom cannot coexist, by the nature of their world and the structure of existence. He's questioned it, resented it, struggled against it — but he was made for such things, as well as to be proud of his superiority and infinitely deeper relationship with the order of all things. ]
That is gentle of you to say. Do not let your faith blind you, though.
I am wicked. I could be luring you in, even now.
no subject
He's always wanted to be free, to be understood. He'd thought Set to be the same, and yet here is the incontrovertible proof that, maybe, his faith has been misplaced. But it couldn't be, they're—
—friends.
Or has he been duped again? As he had with everyone else he's ever trusted?
A long pause follows, and then, finally, a clear question from the center of it all, in answer to Set's last text: ]
are you?
no subject
Set is many horrible things, but a liar is not one of them. Not to others. ( Yet, a great liar to himself. ) ]
Not with purpose. Not you.
I am only saying, so as not to break your heart.
[ If Homelander feels lured, that... is the affect of a god who truly believes he drives men to madness. ]
no subject
He was a fool to doubt it. ]
it's okay.
[ Because he's not really sure how else to put the way he feels into words. That he doesn't think Set would warn him like this if he actually meant to hurt him, that it's a risk everyone takes in caring about anything at all. That he was born to be indestructible. ]
and thanks.
for telling me about anubis.
no subject
I am glad to know of your boy, too.
We will get home to them.