look through the rifle’s sight | meta

[KUNA ✌]

phoenix

She’d been tossed between the two of them like a piece of meat. While she might have otherwise been smirking at their testosterone-filled movements, the fact that neither had considered the fact that perhaps she wished to fight gave her reason enough to feel angry. She could have easily drawn blood from the horned stallion’s body and she would have liked it very much. Nonetheless, the foreign stallion’s interest in her did pique her thoughts. However, she pushed them away brutally in favor of thinking irrationally about Meta’s protectiveness. She could have certainly cared for herself in Altus – she is a big girl, after all.

However, perhaps she has yet to prove herself to Meta in such a way that would give him reason to think she can handle foreign matters.

She finds him easily (wherever he might be) and immediately swings her attention toward him. There’s a fire building behind her green eyes, but it doesn’t catch flame on him just yet. No, her explosive violence might make a show of itself soon, but not yet. Still, that loudly-raging anger lingers just under the surface of her body. “I could’ve had fun in Altus,” she snorts in his direction by way of greeting. Her tongue flicks out to lick across her lower lip, a tendency of hers when her anger is so thick. “Do you not think I can care for myself?”

She is not a mare to be toyed with, nor one to be passed between masculine hands like some sort of stripper. She can hold her own and she will do so with a tight jaw and blazing green eyes. While perhaps she might be pressing the boundaries of The Syndicate’s laws with her rough words, the dun mare can see the lack of trust that caused Meta to do that of which he did. If there is anything the green-eyed killer values, it is trust.

word count: 319 | tags: General SigmaButt σ | notes: so this sucks but here *shoves*

♥︎

[General SigmaButt σ]

we are

^THE Μ Ξ Τ Λ

and we will be coming for you
very soon...

| Sigma | Theta | Omega | Eta/Iota | Gamma | Delta | Beta |

Sweat stung the numerous open wounds speckling his hide. Muscles strained as he pushed hard against the larger frame of his son, Cyclone. Dirt gave way beneath his hooves as he tried to gain the upper hand. Before he established these lands and had his children, The Meta used to use the scenery to keep himself in shape. He would roll boulders and use timber as makeshift weights. Now, however, he had others to help keep him on his toes. In particular, he liked to train with his two sons, Cyclone and Satanael, as both were his size and a bit larger, making them harder to overpower. Right now, Cyclone was putting up a good fight, though he needed to work on his stamina. For all his mass and muscles, he still wasn't quite used to the strenuous work that The Syndicate demanded, but Meta would make damn sure he was by the time he hit three.

Cyclone backed up quickly and motioned behind Meta, making it obvious someone was approaching with the full intent of interrupting their training. A heavy, slightly irritated sigh left his vocals. He had half a mind to ignore whom ever was approaching and continue the match, but he knew that he had responsibilities to attend to. Unfortunately. He gave his maned son a nod and got one in return. Eyes, exactly the same as his own, flicked from the one approaching back to Meta, before large wings unfurled and he took to the sky, giving Meta privacy with his guest.

Meta watched his son fly off, still somewhat amused over the fact that one so large was granted wings to fly as if he were bird. Then, he turned to look at his unexpected company. Just a quick glance let him know it was Phoenix; one of his bandmates and the one he had just recently fought the Altus King for. Fiery oculars noted the displeasure on her visage and he had to resist the urge to sigh very heavily. It seemed he took to sighing a lot lately. He remains silent and stoic as ever; no trace of emotion in his depths or lingering on his countenance to be found.

Audits flicked forward to catch the heated words flowing from the mare's velvets. “I could’ve had fun in Altus,” Again, he felt like sighing. This was why she interrupted his training? Instead, Meta simply shrugged. He didn't care one way or another what she could have done. "Then go to Altus." He watched her lick her lip in agitation, heard the snort, yet he remained still and empty. “Do you not think I can care for myself?” At that, he gave her a heavy, piercing stare. "You wouldn't be here if you couldn't." And it was true; she wouldn't be. Nobody is permitted entrance unless they could take care of themselves. After all, they were all in the business of fighting.

This time, he did sigh. It was a sigh of tiredness and just said 'I am so done with everything.' Day after day, he would break up petty squabbles between Dietrich and Harkness, have to wrangle in the young ones for training, catch attitude from Wicca, catch lip from the dynamic dipshits, Hark and D, for getting lip from Wicca, stop fights Vittoria and Condannare start, get snark and looks of disdain from Satanael, and stop Con and Cyclone from sneaking off together. And that was just between a few members. So, he has been utterly done. It didn't help that he constantly had voices, very loud voices, that told him he was being stupid, that he was abandoning his mission, that every single being around him deserved to die and so did he. Just like right now. 'That ungrateful worm. You fought for her; shed blood for her, and she has the gall to be angry about it? I say for every drop of blood you spilled for her, you spill ten times as much. Do it, Meta. Kill the bitch. KILL HER.'

His head thumped as Sigma joined in, told him how foolish he had been. Beta even pitched in and snarled fiercely, demanding payment in the form of flesh and blood. He grit his teeth to repress the violent surge pumping through his bod. It felt as if his blood had turned to fire; hot and unforgiving. He gave Phoenix a hard, flinty look. "You're under the impression I fought just for you. I didn't. Fought as an example. You think it wouldn't be bad that I just let others walk away with our members?" Meta had originally not wanted to fight at all. He would have preferred she got herself out of that situation, but it wasn't just about her. He needed to let it be known that others couldn't just walk away with members of The Syndicate without retribution. 

A snort left his vocals and his short whip snapped. Two long, deep, and large fresh scars traced up his side. Wounds he sustained for the mare. A low rumble left his throat; something between a contemplative hum and a growl. "You want to bitch about it, then go somewhere else and bitch. Got enough of that already." His words, though biting, held no particular inflection of anger or contempt. The words were flat, as if he were talking about the weather. Being full of ire was far too taxing, especially with a fragment that fed off the emotions living in his head. Crimson and ocher depths burned into her emerald hues fiercely. Had he let her got, she would be a prisoner as all that are stolen become. He wasn't sure if she knew that, but he didn't feel the need to bring it up. 

Words: 954
Tagged: KUNA ✌
Notes: Meta is just so done with life lmfao He's not angry with her, though Omega, Gamma, Sigma, and Beta are trying to get him mad.

[KUNA ✌]

phoenix

With how intense the training had been, she had felt almost awkward intruding on their fighting. However, feeling awkward and self-conscious has never been her forte and so she is quick to shove aside those feelings. The Syndicate founder should be prepared to speak with whoever wishes to speak with him, even if it means halting in the middle of a training session. In a way, it is almost as though the Syndicate members have their leader chained to come at their beck and call rather than the other way around.

Or, perhaps it is just a team effort.

Whatever the situation, the dun mare’s blood boils. In many ways, it is because she hasn’t done anything violent in the past few weeks. In other ways, it is because she doesn’t enjoy watching someone else fight her fights or win her wars. He tells her she can go to Altus if she wishes and her ears pin for one brief moment. For some reason her thoughts are conflicted; her anger and violent personality getting in the way of walking away from the entire situation. She doesn’t betray her conflicting emotions further than the dark of her mind and instead those dark green eyes continue to blaze with anger and careless behavior.

“I suppose you have to keep up your bloody reputation somehow,” she says. The words come out not entirely snarky but not altogether deadpan either. They are simple and carelessly tossed into the conversation, as most of her words are. Turning her fiery gaze away from the tall stallion, her exotic heritage gets the better of her. “Necesito algo que hacer. Esto está empezando a aburrirme.” The Spanish words come out fast and quick-fire, muttered under her breath with no thought to whether he hears her or not.

Finally, she turns her attention back to him. “Okay, fine. I suppose the pressures of life are beginning to stress you, eh?” Her chin raises and her anger simmers, settling down until it is nothing more than that little flame of a fire constantly burning under her skin. Just like that, her switch is off. The situation is diffused. “I need something to do,” she says plainly, her dark green eyes searching his scarred face. “Please give me something to do.”

word count: 380 | tags: General SigmaButt σ | notes: nixxy's bipolar and bored. please excuse her. xD

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