[ Someone Set had thought would be a rival, who rapidly became one of the only mortals to be able to understand the hunger to be loved, to have a family, to be powerful and unstoppable. To have been restrained, humiliated. ]
someone I count myself lucky to have met.
I do not have many friends, or allies. I am poor at socializing, my values and ways are different than mortals', and I can be cruel, capricious. I have to sell myself in this game of wolves because I am not [ Nice. Or funny. Or easy to get to know. ] palatable.
He never made me do that. And he is fun to fight alongside and against. I just want him on his feet again — I want him to see the end of this game, and conquer it.
[alia is quiet, not because she is disinterested, but because it gives her much to consider. set's story is her own -- homelander recognizing his cruelty, his joy, his unique inhumanity and celebrating it.
her story is not one she shares easily. but, in a spirit of mourning, of grief, of a man they both love:] I was not meant to be born, as I was. My mother drank the Water of Life and I was awakened in her womb, given the memory of thousands and thousands of wise, powerful, calculating Bene Gesserit past. It ought to have killed me.
It made me as you are. Cruel, capricious. I killed my first man before I could walk. I sat in splendor over a temple of violence and bloodshed. My mother's order called me abomination. [a beat.] My mother left the planet to escape me, her mistake.
Homelander did not ask me to make myself small or palatable. He relished my strength, my inhuman self. My vicious, bloodied soul, all my power was to be celebrated. With him I was not abomination. I was radiant.
I would see him conquer this game. I would see his retribution on his murderer and I would join him in it.
[ she is a strange creature, even to him. mortals should never hold the weight of memory, the way she now does — it reminds him sorely of his own soul, existence: a vast, dark sea of all he was or will be, and the "him" that presents before the eyes of all merely exists as the current wave washing upon the shores. ]
My mother, the night sky and all her stars, has always been distant to me. Compared to my siblings, I worry something happened between us to make me the same to her... as you are to yours. I do not know what that could have been, or if — this is simply how I was made.
Homelander is like us. That is why we feel so strongly towards him, I know it. I would see you both thrive, and be happy in it.
I may have to recant my words, Alia. They seem to have been spoken in haste and hope, and I had forgotten I am allowed neither.
The one who would revive Homelander — my request is a pale choice compared to another's and I have little to offer of worth to anyone. I am honestly tired of begging and selling myself for the attentions of others. Rest though, I assure you: you will be happier, no matter what comes of this.
[he may not respond, but alia will not allow the last word to not be her own:]
We are hopeless, ageless things, Lord of the Sands. My alliance is yours, regardless of what you may or may not give.
We are too akin, too alike for me to turn aside. I have little to offer you, but the words of my planet, my home, once the words of your own: kun bikhayr ya 'iilah alharba.
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It is a good thing. I had always imagined him upon our dunes. It fits.
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[ Someone Set had thought would be a rival, who rapidly became one of the only mortals to be able to understand the hunger to be loved, to have a family, to be powerful and unstoppable. To have been restrained, humiliated. ]
someone I count myself lucky to have met.
I do not have many friends, or allies. I am poor at socializing, my values and ways are different than mortals', and I can be cruel, capricious. I have to sell myself in this game of wolves because I am not [ Nice. Or funny. Or easy to get to know. ] palatable.
He never made me do that. And he is fun to fight alongside and against. I just want him on his feet again — I want him to see the end of this game, and conquer it.
no subject
her story is not one she shares easily. but, in a spirit of mourning, of grief, of a man they both love:] I was not meant to be born, as I was. My mother drank the Water of Life and I was awakened in her womb, given the memory of thousands and thousands of wise, powerful, calculating Bene Gesserit past. It ought to have killed me.
It made me as you are. Cruel, capricious. I killed my first man before I could walk. I sat in splendor over a temple of violence and bloodshed. My mother's order called me abomination. [a beat.] My mother left the planet to escape me, her mistake.
Homelander did not ask me to make myself small or palatable. He relished my strength, my inhuman self. My vicious, bloodied soul, all my power was to be celebrated. With him I was not abomination. I was radiant.
I would see him conquer this game. I would see his retribution on his murderer and I would join him in it.
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My mother, the night sky and all her stars, has always been distant to me. Compared to my siblings, I worry something happened between us to make me the same to her... as you are to yours. I do not know what that could have been, or if — this is simply how I was made.
Homelander is like us. That is why we feel so strongly towards him, I know it. I would see you both thrive, and be happy in it.
no subject
I may have to recant my words, Alia. They seem to have been spoken in haste and hope, and I had forgotten I am allowed neither.
The one who would revive Homelander — my request is a pale choice compared to another's and I have little to offer of worth to anyone.
I am honestly tired of begging and selling myself for the attentions of others.Rest though, I assure you: you will be happier, no matter what comes of this.[ and he will not respond again ]
no subject
We are hopeless, ageless things, Lord of the Sands.
My alliance is yours, regardless of what you may or may not give.
We are too akin, too alike for me to turn aside. I have little to offer you, but the words of my planet, my home, once the words of your own: kun bikhayr ya 'iilah alharba.