His head felt hot. Airy even. An ache tugged at his eyelids as cracks spread across his phone screen.
Breathe in.
Hold
Breathe out.
Hold
Again
Again
Again
Again
...
...
...
Better.
A dull throb danced across his knuckles.
Punching the wall was a terrible idea. His hands were nowhere near as conditioned or experienced as his kin. He'd be lucky to walk off with a two-week bruise.
Unlikely. But such was hope.
"Yo dipshit, was poppin?"
Ah yes. His kin.
He turned to the ever-ecstatic Orthros, to all of them. His hand absently dragged against the walls and he gently rest his spiderweb-screened phone onto the fireplace.
A grimace flashed across his face, contemplating how to break the news.
He made sure he faced all of them, he made sure all could see him mouth one despised name.
Their bodies turned rigid.
Like statues of frozen, trembling flesh.
Eyes wide open, some glossy, some red. One pair, dull as if staring at something not quite there.
...
...
...
Yes.
This was the correct choice. This was God's will. Sunset Shimmer was his way of giving them closure.
This was his way of guiding them to their fate.
To enact some sick justice for once.
Who was he to deny retribution?
_____________________________________________
Orthros hated very few people. He couldn't bring himself to. He couldn't stop himself from helping a begging man. He couldn't stop the ache in his chest and pity at those lesser than him.
She was infront of him now, every bit as imposing as the day she'd ripped his arm from its socket, that sick smile on her face when she smashed his head into the ground.
Her fingers hooked on his chin, one dug into his nose, his senses invaded by the lavender shampoo she'd rub in his head during every bath.
The clawed grip darting roughly across his shoulders so tight his arms grew stiff and numb-
She'd die.
She'd hurt and die.
He'd wring her neck and twist her arm till she screamed.
Boil her like a fish in water.
Run the cunt over with that motorcycle she treasured so much. Burn it infront of her.
-his teeth sank into her neck like it were cookie-dough, gnashing against bone. Her taste violated his tongue, he choked on sour blood and his neck wrenched and tore her sticky flesh sideways-
____________________________________________
Achiles watched on as his brothers knocked each other back to the present. Vandal left the room to get the bat. As usual, Orthros was taking much longer. He couldn't blame him.
He'd almost been made lame, not to mention the state they'd found him in. Each bite and bruise took weeks to heal. Physically, that is.
Their youngest suffered more than they did, it was inexcusable.
Plans needed to be made, scouting, transport, documentation and... 'magic'.
Everything surrounding the school and its events reeked. After his initial findings in the morning, he could no longer treat 'magic' as a shroom-fueled fantasy Sunset partook in with her friends.
He knew the green girl and her produce quite intimately. He knew Sunset's 'Fluttershy' was close with the Tree Hugs.
Now he knew magic was real.
...
...
...
Welp.
A sharp exhale made his chest drop like a sack of bricks.
Nothing to it, but to do it.
He turned on his heel and strode past Sunset's room, into their basement. Hands locked above his tailbone.
He had work to do if any of this was to go well.
For the sake of his family, there was very little he wouldn't do.
The world owed them a great debt, it was time to pay up.
_____________________________________________
A familiar blue fist left her crumpled onto the ground, hand clutching her stomach and the other wrapped around her head.
"What's wrong Anon-A-Miss? Finally feel like confessing, yet?"
Her visión swam and head ached like she'd rubbed pepper into her eyes and ears. Her hands clawed for purchase and slowly inched away from the pairs of boots encircling her.
"I don't even want a confession at this point! Just! Stop! Have you seen the state of our school!?"
A rubbery sneaker jabbed into her lower back.
"Huh?!"
She gasped and her back arched, long enough for a hand to encircle her locks and painfully yank her head backwards to face an irate yellow face.
A dart landed onto her captor's neck. A thin, skeleton-like visage appeared infront her, steading her body when Applejack finally let go.
The young man pocketed his revolver. He smiled and gently stroked her hair while she rested her head into his shoulder, closing her eyes, tired of it all.
A piercing pain like a palm sized staple to flesh stabbed through her shin and tore a scream from her lips. Her fingers wrung into her saviour's sleeves as a sound like a small bomb deafened her. It hurt it hu r t I t h u r -
Sunset jolted awake.
She scrambled and flailed, dislodging the sheets she'd been wrapped in with panic comparable to a mad-man fighting spirits. Her eyes snapped open, wildly darting every which way until rough hands seized her wrists, iris sparked with orange embers settled onto pits of burning brown. Her breaths froze, then slowly resumed in recognition. Boyish optimism shone in his eyes, they always had, a flame absent in his kin. His presence gave her as much comfort as a puppy. She scoffed at the irony.
Her chest heaved just a fraction less than they had but a second past, vauge awareness returning after a long fight with mania. She let out a shuddering breath and relaxed on the mattress, her rigid back sinking into the fluff. She winced at how clammy she felt. Sticky and icky, filthy.
She couldn't expect her hosts to clean up after her, that would be too much. Soon as she got up, off to laundry duty!
Her neck craned down, slick skin sending shivers down her spine. A bath first though. Definitely.
Orthros cradled one of her hands, having let the other go during the death knells of her panic attack. His characteristic smile was faded today. Barely present as he mindlessly fiddled with her knuckles, gaze rapidly switching from the her fingers to somewhere far, far ahead.
His eyes snapped to hers. Brown orbs burning with something that almost ripped another shiver from her spine. He seemed to notice, his neck tensed before his expression relaxed, happier now, visibly bashful. Upset that he'd scared her. She forced her body to relax. He was safe. Genuine, like a puppy. An increasingly anxious puppy that currently didn't know where to look.
Just a kid, a wierd kid sure, but, everyone was a little wierd. Right?
"Sooooooo......" she trailed off, eye twitching at the awkwardness of it all.
'Smooth. Extravantly smooth, darling. No wonder you didn't have any friends', she could hear Rarity, even the sneer she'd grown used to, 'except us, of course.'
Regardless, she continued, voice relatively even,
"W-what's eatin' ya, kiddo?"
He stilled. His fidgeting froze and she swore she could see worms wriggling beneath his skin. Muscles rippling on an immobile skeleton, eyes dull in a way that deeply unnerved her. The most energetic, jovial of them all turned to a living corpse. Her brow scrunched, his skin was pale, almost invisible patches dotting his flesh like chalk dust.
He was a statue at her bedside, not even breathing, empty eyes meeting hers. His gaze tried to communicate a message she couldn't understand, it felt like that. As if he wanted to cry but had no tears. As if he wanted to speak but had no words. As if he wanted to bite but had no teeth.
Odd comparisons and similes rushed into her mind from nowhere she could identify. The longer she stared the more pronounced they became. She could see it, see something on him. A feeling, an expression, she didn't understand...
A gentle smile broke across thin lips. His voice was light, slow, limp. After a slow blink, his eyes dulled even further, growing cold and cutting as the midwinter chill she'd come here to escape.
"Nothing you need to worry about, Sunset."
She'd never heard him properly pronounce all his O's and G's in one sentance. Nor use her name without the 'Miss'.