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Ampere the Mother of Companions
The Veins of the Gods opened up beneath her, all dark rock and vibrant lava. It was a mysterious place in its own right, certainly more ominous than the island that Ampere had just traveled near. Was it familiarity that made it seem safer, or was it the presence of the gods, as stale as it might be with their decaying shrines? Ampere wasn't sure, but she knew enough of the island to avoid it, but all at once, not enough, which is what brought her to the blood of the land, the gods' place. Ampere was not a religious sort by nature. In fact upon arrival she hadn't even believed in the gods, scoffed and cussed at them actually, because she had known too many false gods, be they mortals or ideas, in her travels. Her time in Helovia had been invaluable in educating her on their existence, and their power (or at times, lack thereof). Even with the knowledge of them though, which admittedly was still limited, she did not like turning to them. Only now, in this darkening hour, did Ampere arrive out of desperation and fear. Her hooves clattered upon the rough stone, sliding at one point over an area that had been smoothed with years of hoofsteps. Her wings caught her though, flaring at her sides in a brilliant display before she slicked them to her back, flicking them a few times with the unease that wound through her. As she moved, electricity popped in her wake as dust stirred into life. Unwittingly she crafted a butterfly which drifted in the wind of her haste. Its electric body arced out of its lines from time to time, distorting it, or more appropriately, showing how ill contained it was. A voice drifted over the winter wind to her, and soon a body, pale as the world beyond this place, took shape. Ampere didn't hesitate. She was grateful for the presence of another, was in fact joyful at it. She had purposefully chosen to come here to pray to the God of the Sun. He was the one she knew best, the one she trusted the most, which wasn't saying much. He had saved her (how could she forget?), literally pulled her out of the darkness and offered her the golden realm where he dwelled. He had believed in her, when no one else had, including herself; she still thought him a fool for that, but then perhaps she was the one playing jester. Gods surely could make mistakes too though, because if not Ampere wasn't sure how else to explain all the shit in the world. Yet for all the good, he had wrecked her too, and for that reason she preferred not to summon him among her home, his home. It was too, private. She didn't want to see him at all, but after what she'd felt when on the island, what Cera had said, what Ghost had said, that Gaucho was so willing to fling himself into the unknown... Was she weak, or was he just stupid? She still had nightmares about the wraiths and that horrible awful cave, how could he so easily have forgotten? Even the slightest suggestion at having to endure that again had her crippled with fear and anxiety. She could not, would not do that again, there had to be another way - and only the God of the Sun could know, of that she was sure. So she moved towards his broken shrine, ears flicking forward as she listened to the other mare's prayer. She only caught part of it, and even then was distracted by the resemblance Ophelia struck in Ampere's memories. Unlike the clever and studious Forsaken, the Mother of Companions frequently did not recall the details, much less names. "Do you think he will answer?" Ampere asked, licking her lips nervously as she came to a halt near the shrine and the bloody-white girl with her silver dragon. I know her Ampere thought, recalling that sterling beast - she had loved him back then, when she had been ignorant and though Ophelia had tamed the creature (a rare feat) to be a pet of some kind. The naivety of it then left a bitterness in her now, but it was easily quelled by the churning of her gut and the rumbling of her thoughts. "They must already know something is wrong, terribly wrong." Ampere trailed off, shaking her head as her blue gaze grew dull and distant. The wraiths haunted her. They had been unstoppable; they showed her what it felt like to be powerless. Even the gods had not been able to help, not at first. "They must," she insisted, to no one in particular. The lightning butterfly that had been drifting around her grew so intense and distorted that it shot off in all directions, fizzling up as it did so. |
@[Ophelia]
Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.
