Post by Siren Crowe on Jan 19, 2010 17:19:43 GMT -8
Siren stared out into the woods beyond her makeshift range. It was still and quiet in the clearing. She liked the quiet. She could find anything just by sound in the silence.
Papa had always said there's always time to practice yer shot. He also said here was no excuse for mistakes. A good clean shot is the best way. She tucked her duster behind the twin bolsters at her hips. They had been dasdy's parting gift, so to speak. Twin pearl handled Colt .45s emerged from vintage cured leather holsters in a nice red hue and rubbed to a shine. They had been passed down in her family, according to her grandmother. She was just the next in a long line.
Siren drifted back to the day she had found them on her night stand, gleaming and frightening . She had only been 13 and only a few weeks into being 13, mind. His silver bracelet he wore was on top of them and underneath it all was a note. His long scrawl simply said " I was wrong. Do what's right." She had never understood what it meant. She might never. But she had a good idea.
Her hands rested a hairs breadth from the surface of the handles of the antique 6 shooters. Her fingers flexed, readying for the draw. Her grandmother had simply said he'd gone on to do other things, that everyone did eventually. Everyone had great purpose, weather they knew it or not. Siren had Insisted taking control of the ranch. She wasn't going to leave it to some foreman who would run it into the ground. Child or not, she had been raised to the work on the ranch, had done it all her life. She would do it til she died.
Siren snapped out of her ponderings and drew the pistols with lightening speed. She shot all 6 rounds from each of them and then finally let out her breath. She looked at her shots on the tree stump she had carved up into a rough human shape. Good shots, if you wanted to stop someone from getting away. She sighed, whipped out the right had Desert Eagle and one hand shot at the target. She made a clean hole right at the heart, satisfying her. She knew she could. She just needed to have those damned .45s looked at again.
Siren looked at the Desert Eagle in her hand and slid out the clip. The clip loader on her thigh swung open and she slammed the gun down on it, reloading in a flash. She slid the empty clip in and reset everything in it's place. No room for mistakes drifted through her mind again.
Siren's grandmother had sent her on a damn fool mission. This... Thing couldn't be her brother. But even as she was repulsed, she knew in her heart it was true. It brought her closer to her goal, in any case. Maybe he'd come home with her and they could... Fix things. The family she had known was gone. This was a place to start over.
She squeezed off one round from the Desert Eagle in her hand. Square into the heart of the hole she'd made. No mistakes.
Papa had always said there's always time to practice yer shot. He also said here was no excuse for mistakes. A good clean shot is the best way. She tucked her duster behind the twin bolsters at her hips. They had been dasdy's parting gift, so to speak. Twin pearl handled Colt .45s emerged from vintage cured leather holsters in a nice red hue and rubbed to a shine. They had been passed down in her family, according to her grandmother. She was just the next in a long line.
Siren drifted back to the day she had found them on her night stand, gleaming and frightening . She had only been 13 and only a few weeks into being 13, mind. His silver bracelet he wore was on top of them and underneath it all was a note. His long scrawl simply said " I was wrong. Do what's right." She had never understood what it meant. She might never. But she had a good idea.
Her hands rested a hairs breadth from the surface of the handles of the antique 6 shooters. Her fingers flexed, readying for the draw. Her grandmother had simply said he'd gone on to do other things, that everyone did eventually. Everyone had great purpose, weather they knew it or not. Siren had Insisted taking control of the ranch. She wasn't going to leave it to some foreman who would run it into the ground. Child or not, she had been raised to the work on the ranch, had done it all her life. She would do it til she died.
Siren snapped out of her ponderings and drew the pistols with lightening speed. She shot all 6 rounds from each of them and then finally let out her breath. She looked at her shots on the tree stump she had carved up into a rough human shape. Good shots, if you wanted to stop someone from getting away. She sighed, whipped out the right had Desert Eagle and one hand shot at the target. She made a clean hole right at the heart, satisfying her. She knew she could. She just needed to have those damned .45s looked at again.
Siren looked at the Desert Eagle in her hand and slid out the clip. The clip loader on her thigh swung open and she slammed the gun down on it, reloading in a flash. She slid the empty clip in and reset everything in it's place. No room for mistakes drifted through her mind again.
Siren's grandmother had sent her on a damn fool mission. This... Thing couldn't be her brother. But even as she was repulsed, she knew in her heart it was true. It brought her closer to her goal, in any case. Maybe he'd come home with her and they could... Fix things. The family she had known was gone. This was a place to start over.
She squeezed off one round from the Desert Eagle in her hand. Square into the heart of the hole she'd made. No mistakes.