[ Lottie. Sweet on the tongue, like a round piece of candy. He smiles, though the expression doesn't reach his eyes. ]
Homelander.
[ And it sounds— strange, in the woods. Less like a byproduct of American imperialism, but still hardly a true name. For a moment, he wonders if it's even his. (She's his, comes the answer, floating back like a message in a bottle. But that's not right, not when she's so still, when she's not running.)
So when he swallows, it feels thick in his throat. Not blood. (Not food.) ]
no subject
Homelander.
[ And it sounds— strange, in the woods. Less like a byproduct of American imperialism, but still hardly a true name. For a moment, he wonders if it's even his. (She's his, comes the answer, floating back like a message in a bottle. But that's not right, not when she's so still, when she's not running.)
So when he swallows, it feels thick in his throat. Not blood. (Not food.) ]
What did you think we are hunting for, then?