look through the rifle’s sight | meta/open

[KUNA ✌]

phoenix

The sun is hot on her back, burning at her skin. She doesn’t pause to wonder why she is here; in fact, she doesn’t pause to wonder anything. She is on a mission and that much is obvious. Her dark green eyes (dark green eyes that show the true uncaring nature of her personality but not the hidden thirst for blood underneath) remain fixated on the rise of canyons in the distance, which will offer her both of the things she is seeking.

She’d heard words in the gathering places, where the horses of this land came to discuss and gossip. She’d heard of the band called ‘Syndicate’ which offered jobs to those willing to do dirty work. She could gain some sort of payment in return, making deals and dishing out tasks at the same time. She’d heard that they offered a job position called an ‘assassin’ where she could kill for payment. The thoughts of killing filled her mind, nearly causing her to lose track of where her feet were walking.

(The crack of her newborn sister’s skull splintering into millions of pieces rang through her mind, echoing with a noise that brought a thrill of adrenaline to her senses. A scream ripped from behind her and she twists, turning to see her mother standing there with a heartbroken and shocked expression. That rage overcomes her again, clouding her judgments and rimming her gaze with bright red – blood red – like the liquid trickling from her little sister’s ears. “Phoenix!” comes a scream off to her right, a scream from one of the leaders of the herd – the herd of ‘pureblood’ Spanish Mustangs. The whole of them, thinking they are more worthy of attention than a mutt like herself.

It is too late. The young mare’s explosive anger has taken over again and her mother lays battered and bruised and bloodied and broken in a heap on the ground, barely breathing but not yet dead. Her breath comes in quiet, faint stirrings but everyone in the vicinity can hear even breathing is painful. Shocked silence grips the group, each leader slowly turning their terrified gazes toward the one who has done all the destruction.

And quick as a flash, she turns and runs.)

By the time she regains her senses again, she is standing in front of the canyon. Her teeth grit in determination, ignoring the feeble attention at guilt to reach her senses. She doesn’t feel guilty for killing both of them. She doesn’t feel regretful for killing both of them. The herd was going to kick her out anyway so she might as well have dealt damage along the way. The green-eyed murderer raises her head and stands in the shade of the canyon’s waiting for someone to come and find her.

word count: 465 | tags: the meta/open | notes: first post, whut whut :3

♥︎

[General SigmaButt σ]

we are

^THE Μ Ξ Τ Λ

no one man should have all that p o w e r

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

<sup>The Meta had just returned from an extensive mission with his son, Cyclone, his comrade, Harkness, and Harkness' daughter, Vittoria. No one had been informed of the mission prior to their departure. Truthfully, the mission was not a contract, but a personal endeavor for his snarky, blue eyed friend. Ghosts of Harkness' past came to hunt him down and the stallion came to Meta for help. The mission was, and will remain a secret between them and a few of the others in the Family. This act of generosity was uncommon for the palomino brute. Meta never had been charitable. Perhaps he seen it as a debt. This was him paying Harkness back for helping him search for the acclaimed Alpha. Whatever the reason, it grated on the voices. They did not, by any means, like him deviating from their quest to search for their Pater. Oh and did they make it ever obvious.

'Now that you're done being that blue-eyed moron's little bitch, maybe you'll focus on your true mission. Or are you going to crawl back to that whore with your tail between your legs again?' Meta had to resist the urge to sigh at the deep, scathing voice echoing in his head. Omega never did quite like him, or really anyone. 'I think you've gone soft on us. So little killing. Too busy playing house. Pathetic. I can't wait to end you after you end the rest of these fools.' He practically could feel the heat of Omega's hatred and rage searing the tattered remnants of his soul. Meta wasn't exactly sure how, but he was certain he felt Beta roll her eyes at the Rage fragment's commentary. 'Oh, for fucks sake. Shut the hell up, Omega. You won't do shit. Yeah, Meta's a pussy-whipped bitch now but don't forget who's running the show.' A cackle of manic glee sounding suspiciously like Omega's resonated in his head. His infatuation with Beta was something Meta could never quite understand.

Gold and crimson oculars drifted across the vast, desert-like expanse of Reach. Nothing had changed in his absence, which he was glad about. If anything had, he'd kick Dietrich's ass from here to the Ethereal Meadows. The sun scorched his blanketed flesh more intensely here than most other lands. He preferred the heat of Reach to the chill of Cocytus any day. It felt much better on his many fresh wounds than the biting cold. He certainly didn't leave the mission unscathed. Still, he was leagues better than the pile of unidentifiable remains he left his opponents.

An unfamiliar scent on the wind gave him pause. He had made sure to memorize those inhabiting Reach, and that scent certainly did not belong to anyone in his band. He wasn't too concerned. The Meta knew quite well how to handle himself in a fight. If, by chance, he did get overpowered, his foe would have an entire band of trained fighters and killers to look forward to greeting him or her. Plus, it wasn't a secret that Reach had an open door policy. Meta truly didn't care who came or went, so long as they didn't cause problems. Time to see if this unknown figure was going to act accordingly, or if they wished to be kicked off a cliff.

Large plates brought the heavily muscled brute to the guest. As he drew closer, he noticed that the bay dun figure was a female and she seemed to simply be waiting. He halted his approach just far enough away that she could not strike without giving him room to react. Even if these were his lands, he did not grow complacent. Many beings were out for his blood, and she could very well be one of them. The Meta slaughtered many beings in his travels, and that left quite a trail of hatred and vengeance in its wake.

Searing depths scrutinized the mare for a moment, only assessing possible weaknesses and a general analysis. He had not interest in aesthetics. He was about three hands higher and quite a bit more muscular, which was unsurprising. The Meta went to great lengths to train and exercise. Hell, the first thing he did in these lands was take up residence in a cave and push boulders to maintain his physique. His scarred visage was empty of any discernible emotions. 'Kill her. Do it. Push her from the ledge. Just like 'Lina. She is weak. She is exposed. Do it, Meta. _{do it.}  do it. DO IT.' Meta could feel Omega's desire as if it were his own and it took all his willpower not to push the vix from her precarious position. Instead, he spoke. His vocals were almost impossibly deep and equally rough; almost hard to interpret his words beyond the growling tenor. The obvious scars on his throat a possible reasoning behind his guttural tenor. "Name and business." The Meta did not mince words. The less he spoke, the better. He left no question in his words, just a simple demand. Scarlet and ocher visionaries pinned on the vixen as he awaited her response.

Words: 874
Tagged: Phoenix/open
Notes: Ramble ramble shitty ramble.</sup>

[KUNA ✌]

phoenix

While she isn’t the most muscular of horses, there is certainly a battle-ready look to the bay dun’s appearance. Perhaps it is the harsh look in her eyes or the Spanish and Andalusian mixture of her breeding, but her fitness is obvious. Although she is not nearly as muscular as a draft stallion who makes sure his finesse is perfect, there is no doubt in her mind that she would be able to hold her own longer and more powerfully than a horse will little competitiveness.

She had; after all, beat her worthless mother to a pulp.

A good thing, too, because the dun mare isn’t sure if she could have listened to her mother’s pitiful whining about her dead daughter (a daughter Phoenix had killed with a swift crush of the skull) any longer than she had to. When it comes down to whining and whimpering and screaming and crying over this and that, Phoenix much rather prefers to shut them up one way or another instead of listening to their sorrows. Perhaps she isn’t the most empathetic soul in the world, but that is something she can easily live with. Phoenix supposes, however, that if she had multiple voices in her head she would go crazy (if she isn’t already).

Although perhaps that red haze around her eyes and that violent rush of fire that creeps up her neck and into her mind could be considered a voice.

While Phoenix relaxes in the shade away from the sun, she isn’t necessarily unaware of what’s around her. In fact, it is much the opposite. Her ear twitches in the direction of his steps, listening to them halt near her back. Her dark green eyes look toward him, her rectangular but not altogether boxy head following her gaze. There is a flash of something dark in his eyes (as if he is battling some deep desire that brings thoughts of blood and death and crushed bones) and Phoenix likes it. He asks her for her name and what her business is in a deep voice that rumbles low in her ears.

A smooth smile falls across her lips, neither light nor dark. “¿No le gustaría saber,” she purrs, those exotic tunes dancing across the space to rush into his ears. Her herd had spoken Spanish, her mentor had taught her English. Nonetheless, Phoenix frequently reverts back to her mother tongue for the thrill of feeling the words roll off her lips and see the confusion on their faces. Her head tips to the side slowly but after a moment she answers in English, “I’m Phoenix. And I heard you could kill people for a job here.” She leaves it at that, allowing him to interpret her words however he wishes.

word count: 460 | tags: sigma/open | notes: spanish translation - "wouldn't you like to know?"

♥︎

[General SigmaButt σ]

we are

^THE Μ Ξ Τ Λ

no one man should have all that p o w e r

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

<sup>He watched the green-eyed seraph closely. Seen the grin roll across her dark lips, smooth as molasses. Heard the piquant tremble in her foreign lilted vocals as she spoke in a tongue not native of these lands. “¿No le gustaría saber,” He recognized the language immediately as Spanish. It was not his native tongue, but it was one of the several he had been forced to learn in his time as a special ops soldier. The small number of soldiers in that division all had to learn various languages as they often frequented foreign lands. It had not been a simple task for the golden brute.

He was mildly tempted to respond to the rhetorical question; a simple 'Por eso pregunté.' would suffice, but he didn't deem it necessary. Instead, he gave her a loaded stare; duo-hued opts burning in a way that said he knew just what she had said. There was a moment of silence between the two that he felt no need to break. Speaking just for speakings sake was not something he was fond of doing, and if that meant he stood in potentially uncomfortable silence, then so be it. He had already grown accustomed to others being offput by his naturally taciturn nature. This encounter would be no different.

Visionaries traced the bruja's features as she so calmly and slowly tilted her head. It was then that she parted her velvets and broke the ongoing silence. “I’m Phoenix. And I heard you could kill people for a job here.” At that, he almost laughed in a none-too-pleasing manner. Yet, his cool, stoney facade never broke. There was no hint of surprise, interest, or really any emotion to be found on his visage or in his hellfire opts. A low hum, sounding more a growl in his damaged vocals, resonated from his throat. "We do."

The Meta seemed to make no motion on continuing the statement. Didn't see a purpose in it. She gave her name and why she was here. He responded in accordance to her words. It didn't stop the voices from getting irritated with his lack of social finesse. 'Of all the soldiers to pick, you pick the socially inept one. Good job Sigma.' The sarcasm was thick in Beta's voice. 'Perhaps you should explicate. After all, The Syndicate offers many services and it would be wise to advertise it as such.' Meta gave a mental huff, not wanting to speak more than absolutely necessary, but he could understand where Delta was coming from.

"We do whatever is needed here." Brilliant oculars held fast on her own verdant ones. Auds occasionally flicked about in an attempt to catch any wayward sound, such as his name being called or a sneak attack. He wouldn't be surprised if she were just the bait used to lure him out into a vulnerable position such as this; a cliff edge. It was a very common tactic; use an attractive vixen to lure out the target too stupid to watch his own back. While he was here, he was still cautious, prepared for a possible ambush. He spoke once more, voice a bit harder than the last time, though not quite crossing the threshold from calm to unfriendly. "I repeat; your business here?" From her words, he figured it was one of two things; she was interested in joining and performing these 'jobs', or she was here to fill out a contract. Either way, he was interested in hearing just what she wanted from him and this band.

'Give her our name, Meta. You'd be exceptionally rude if you didn't.' Meta internally sighed. She didn't ask, so why should he give her his name? Just more unnecessary talking. Unnecessary information. Information a stranger certainly doesn't need. 'You aren't exactly a hidden figure among these lands. For all you know, she may already know your name.' All the more reason not to say it, in his opinion. At that, he could feel the exasperation of the voices with his antisocial antics. Without warning, he spoke, figuring it best to get it out of the way now before the voices nagged him more. "The Meta." No context was given to his words and none would be given lest she asked. Perhaps, if he was lucky, she'd figure it to be his name and wouldn't need to explain it.

Words: 723
Tagged: KUNA ✌
Notes: Blegh. HE'S JUST SO SMOOTH AND SOCIALLY COMPETENT. LIKE, CALM DOWN THERE CASANOVA.</sup>

[KUNA ✌]

phoenix

His gaze suggests he knows her language, but she does not broach the topic. He can reply to her words however he might wish – he still gets the answer in the end. While the silence turns toward uncomfortable, she doesn’t open up another topic of discussion. The dun mare can tell he isn’t one for socialites or non-business speech or even simple questions but she isn’t one of those annoying chatter-boxes who will fill the silence whenever there is none. Instead, she simply waits for him to speak, her ears flicking around in case there is some sort of attack and her eyes shifting from him to the area around her and then quickly back to him.

Finally, when she speaks again, he responds with a low “we do” that is almost difficult to pick out in her ears. Nonetheless, she still hears the noise and waits for him to explain further, her excitement mounting with the thought that she could literally kill for a living. Killing has been her favorite thing to do ever since she had bestowed that solid punch to her little sister’s head. Killing has been her favorite thing to do ever since she had beat her mother up so severely there might’ve been nothing left if she had unleashed that red hot anger any longer. Killing has been her favorite thing to do even if she had to do it to someone she might’ve been developing feelings for.

In anything that she does, killing rules her life.

And she is completely fine with that.

It takes a while for him to expand on what he’s said but she waits patiently, that attitude of uncaringness surrounding her in a thick layer. He asks for her business here and her skin twitches in the equine representation of a shrug. “I’m here to kill people,” she says with an offhand-like roll of her exotic words. A faint breeze tugs at her dark locks once and she nearly sighs aloud, figuring he might desire more information than that. “I’m here for a job and if you don’t want me I’m still going to kill people.”

Soon after she finishes speaking, he gives two words. The Meta. At first she is confused, though little to anything is portrayed in her dark green eyes. She supposes it is his name or even the name of this land, and so she doesn’t ask any questions. For some reason, she feels like she won’t get them even if she does ask. “So what do I have to do to get in?”

word count: 428 | tags: General SigmaButt σ | notes: hah! nixxy's just like 'whatever weirdo'

♥︎