Ampere finds her peace in the wind that caresses her wings, that holds her aloft, that lets her dance in the sky like a jay bird. She finds peace in the way nature envelops her and surrounds. You’re rather the opposite, aren’t you? You find peace in something that you can surround- your plants as you ingest them. And indeed, your plants do hold you aloft and left you dance in the sky, in a metaphorical sense. But mostly they drag you lower to the ground, hooves spread wide, head hung low, tail limp and dangling behind you. On the worst days you may even meet the ground, laying upon it, crushing the earth beneath your intoxicated weight. Isn’t it that opposite attracts? So why do you hate this woman so?

Your name calls through the trees, but even before your brain can really register who it is that has spoken you feel a seething abhorrence writhe up within you. Her. Your thoughts are flashes, just incoherent thoughts to your companion who is thrown awry with this new violent course your mind has taken. Crackles of lighting, lots of blue, an egg, p a i n. Even the thought of the pain seems to be drawn out, your sides beginning to softly pulse with the memory of the chemical burns that had wracked your hide. Scars still linger, patches where fur refuses to grow, left there when you failed to return to a healer after your second meeting in the caves. Oh yes, you remember that meeting, a war effort lead by your best buddy, accented by mocking words from you and unexpected assault from the chaotic woman who is your mortal enemy.

But if she is your enemy, she is also like one of your drugs. She is terrible for you- she ruins you, drags you down, only brings out the worst in you- but you can’t get enough of her. Seeing the way her face contorts as you mock her, the way she grows indignant when you approach, is addicting in its own right. You turn towards where you heard her voice, a smirk already growing on the corners of your mouth as you sloppily fall towards her. “You stole my slave girl!” you hiss, accusation obviously unfounded as you have no way of knowing if she did or didn’t, or if she even knows that you have a slave girl. But making sense aside, you have a sense that this will drive her almost as wild as the time you informed her the boggart’s name was Ampere. It must be that in the same way you come to know and understand your friend’s likes and dislikes, you come to know and understand the triggers that drive your enemies wild.

It is interesting for your boggart to look on the wild blue woman and know that she could have belonged to her instead (she does not understand that Ampere would have freed her). How would her life be different, how would her manners be changed? She has no words for this, cannot speak and cannot tell you how she feels, but she considers it nevertheless, in the span of time it takes you to speak. But when you are done speaking, she does not linger, she acts. All she knows of Ampere is explosions and though Oxy is her master and she the slave, in many ways she has come to love him and want better for her. She flies down to Ampere, morphing into an image that she can sense will cause at least some minor distraction, perhaps momentarily saving you from another wave of electricity washing over your body.

So… what is she? None other than a Sun God miniature, standing beside one very abandoned egg, an unpleasant scowl on his face. Neither you nor your boggart understand the image, but the little black wisps intuition has never failed her before. The image lingers only a moment, but hopefully it will be enough.

Oxy