[ It's not the answer Homelander wants to hear by a significant margin. Displeasure digs a furrow into his brow, his upper lip curling as he struggles to reconcile his thoughts.
Maybe it's a sort of Highlander situation, he thinks. There can only be one, applied to the idea of godhood. And it's less that he wants that than that he's learned it to be his given right in life, to be the most powerful man on Earth, to be able to act with total impunity because no one could match him. But it competes with what he wants, with the loneliness he's carried since boyhood.
(Maybe the catching point is that he's not a god. Set was made to war, made to complete, whereas Homelander, at the end of the day, splinters into a million human fragments. Pathetic, vulnerable, needy.)
Set's transformation, at least, serves as a distraction, a quick, ] Jesus, fuck, [ leaving Homelander's mouth as he steps back — to little effect — frown only growing deeper as he watches Set's shape reform. ]
Yeah, that'll be the day.
[ And if it doesn't sound like he relishes the idea, it's because he doesn't — the kinds of fights he likes are the ones he knows he can win. ]
If you want a fight, just ask me for it. Leave her out of it.
[ But, is it not the honest one? Set is incapable of lies; twisting truths, playing on words and generally being a tricky, conniving bastard are well-within his repertoire, but outright lying to anyone — friend or foe — is categorically denied to him. That is how existence counterbalances his wild nature, and helps prevent him from tipping the order beyond its ability to naturally recover. As he comes to stand before Homelander again, it is with the knowledge that he is blocking the man's path. Preventing him from leaving, denying him escape, penning him in ( in the open, lmao ). He wears his brilliance openly, eyes flashing and broad-pupiled, like a predator that is taking in as much stimuli as possible before moving in for a lethal strike. Sharp canines displayed prominently, as he continues to smile in his most enticing way. Warm, in the way that something murderous could only be. ]
Would you? Really? You would lay hand upon me, and let me test your mettle?
[ There's a fever in his breathless words, and were he less of a man, he might clasp his hands together before himself — pleading with the energy of a giddy schoolgirl awaiting the answer to a love letter shoved in her crush's locker. ]
I have worked alongside you. Witnessed your strength and brutality. I could think of no greater honor than to challenge you, and be challenged by you. We would be greater still, after such a thing. There is no better friendship than what we are capable of!
[ Honor?? Well, he is a god of war. Conflict and violence brew dangerous and dark within him, his needs unmet for a long time and now burning to be brought to bear against someone he calls 'friend'. Fighting is a form of communication, to him. AND HE DID SAY HE WASN'T A GREAT FRIEND.... maybe he should have said "normal friend".... ]
[ He wouldn't want to hurt you so badly if he actually liked you, one voice says. It's what he's made for, as a god of war, says another. Further fault lines draw themselves over the knowledge of his limitations, the total earnestness of Set's want, the understanding that he's being nothing if not honest, that he fully believes it'll make them closer. And he gets it — sort of. It's the most concrete kind of proof that they're equals, matched with each other in a way that can be quantified.
(It occurs to him that he doesn't know the full extent of what Set can do, if it's even possible to kill a god. Granted, he doesn't linger on the latter for too long. Anything can be killed if you take it apart enough, even him. Maybe that's a little dramatic, when it's not like they've said this is a fight to the death, but it's always a possibility, when violence is involved.) ]
You know I can only go all-out for so long, [ he says, after a long pause. ] That okay with you?
He was made for loneliness, created by the world to be an Atlas of divine proportions, tasked with the duty of ensuring that ma'at had meaning; that order could exist, because there was chaos and discord to be triumphed over, controlled and suppressed by dutiful adherence to proscribed ideals. Powerful, lethal, undeniably beautiful in his ferality, was it any wonder he sought similar souls as he? Individuals who were the pinnacle of strength and talent, among whom Homelander appeared to be. After all, Set knows that Maeve escaped his vengeance, and doesn't all that anger and passion still need an outlet? Need acknowledging? ]
Will you give it your all, when it happens?
[ Provided that Homelander puts his heart and soul into the fight, it doesn't matter if it is a short or long one. He judges people based on their conviction, not their longevity. ]
If so, I would be satisfied. Win or lose, you would make me quite content. I am a man, after all — violence is an integral part of my soul. Inflicting it, witnessing it, experiencing it... the degree to which is less important than the love for it.
[ It's the same divide they'd butted up against before, isn't it — mutual acknowledgment of loneliness as a necessary condition of their respective existences but a fundamental gap between their takes on it. Set sees himself as having been given a prescribed role; Homelander rails against the idea of having no choice, of being a villain. Underneath it all, it makes him sad. It's not fair to be made the bad guy for having wanted a different life, is it? For wanting what he's owed? And it's not fair to Set, either, let alone his kid. Either of their kids. ]
I'll give it my all.
[ His jaw tenses, so sharp that it might cut glass. He knows what he is — a tool molded for a single use, the same divine purpose that Set cites, now.
(Would he have been like him, if he let Vought keep holding his chain?) ]
And I'll fucking win.
[ With that, he checks Set's shoulder, pushing past him and striding down the hall, out of sight as soon as he rounds the corner. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Maybe it's a sort of Highlander situation, he thinks. There can only be one, applied to the idea of godhood. And it's less that he wants that than that he's learned it to be his given right in life, to be the most powerful man on Earth, to be able to act with total impunity because no one could match him. But it competes with what he wants, with the loneliness he's carried since boyhood.
(Maybe the catching point is that he's not a god. Set was made to war, made to complete, whereas Homelander, at the end of the day, splinters into a million human fragments. Pathetic, vulnerable, needy.)
Set's transformation, at least, serves as a distraction, a quick, ] Jesus, fuck, [ leaving Homelander's mouth as he steps back — to little effect — frown only growing deeper as he watches Set's shape reform. ]
Yeah, that'll be the day.
[ And if it doesn't sound like he relishes the idea, it's because he doesn't — the kinds of fights he likes are the ones he knows he can win. ]
If you want a fight, just ask me for it. Leave her out of it.
no subject
Would you? Really? You would lay hand upon me, and let me test your mettle?
[ There's a fever in his breathless words, and were he less of a man, he might clasp his hands together before himself — pleading with the energy of a giddy schoolgirl awaiting the answer to a love letter shoved in her crush's locker. ]
I have worked alongside you. Witnessed your strength and brutality. I could think of no greater honor than to challenge you, and be challenged by you. We would be greater still, after such a thing. There is no better friendship than what we are capable of!
[ Honor?? Well, he is a god of war. Conflict and violence brew dangerous and dark within him, his needs unmet for a long time and now burning to be brought to bear against someone he calls 'friend'. Fighting is a form of communication, to him. AND HE DID SAY HE WASN'T A GREAT FRIEND.... maybe he should have said "normal friend".... ]
no subject
(It occurs to him that he doesn't know the full extent of what Set can do, if it's even possible to kill a god. Granted, he doesn't linger on the latter for too long. Anything can be killed if you take it apart enough, even him. Maybe that's a little dramatic, when it's not like they've said this is a fight to the death, but it's always a possibility, when violence is involved.) ]
You know I can only go all-out for so long, [ he says, after a long pause. ] That okay with you?
no subject
He was made for loneliness, created by the world to be an Atlas of divine proportions, tasked with the duty of ensuring that ma'at had meaning; that order could exist, because there was chaos and discord to be triumphed over, controlled and suppressed by dutiful adherence to proscribed ideals. Powerful, lethal, undeniably beautiful in his ferality, was it any wonder he sought similar souls as he? Individuals who were the pinnacle of strength and talent, among whom Homelander appeared to be. After all, Set knows that Maeve escaped his vengeance, and doesn't all that anger and passion still need an outlet? Need acknowledging? ]
Will you give it your all, when it happens?
[ Provided that Homelander puts his heart and soul into the fight, it doesn't matter if it is a short or long one. He judges people based on their conviction, not their longevity. ]
If so, I would be satisfied. Win or lose, you would make me quite content. I am a man, after all — violence is an integral part of my soul. Inflicting it, witnessing it, experiencing it... the degree to which is less important than the love for it.
🎀
I'll give it my all.
[ His jaw tenses, so sharp that it might cut glass. He knows what he is — a tool molded for a single use, the same divine purpose that Set cites, now.
(Would he have been like him, if he let Vought keep holding his chain?) ]
And I'll fucking win.
[ With that, he checks Set's shoulder, pushing past him and striding down the hall, out of sight as soon as he rounds the corner. ]