Ampere had been following him. His independent nature was not something she wished to snuff out, though she couldn't help but wonder if he'd been pushed into it by her absences. She had been around, but not for him, not often enough. Between being Gladiator and Chancellor, as well as starting up her secret organization, time was slipping through her wings like wind and his childhood along with it. Only recently had she even noticed the mass of-of- by the gods what the fuck even was it that was on her boy? It grew out like some kind of awful fungus from where his beautiful wing ought to be, It was cold (or hot int he sun) and shone like metal, but she had only ever known metal to come from the ground or the sea, not bodies, not her son's body.

So she followed him, because she was worried, and because she felt like maybe if she was close by, even when he didn't realize, well maybe that still counted for something in the mom category and then she wouldn't be so restless at night any more. They still slept together, sometimes, she usually patrolled at night and he usually explored in the day, so dawn and dusk was mostly their time now... and it saddened her.

That's why, as he broke in before the group, she hung back. It only took a brief glance for Ampere to notice and know the God of the Earth. He had descended, and like so many things did in Helovia, beings were attracted to his power, her son included. Dark lips pursed in a thoughtful line as Ampere considered the consequences of her sun mingling with the gods so soon, but it was not her place to bar him from this choice. She had told him tales of the gods, and his curiosity and his desires were natural. He could decide on his own which one, if any, he'd choose to follow.

She was prepared for religion, but not got his tearful admission. His words struck her like a jolt of electricity and they weren't even for her. "why'd you have t'take my w-wing to do it?" "Oh gods," she exhaled, her lungs crumpling in her chest as her heart swelled and pushed everything else out. She felt it, like a terrible weight sitting in the bottom of her throat, gently strangling her as her nares desperately widened and pulled on air. Tears of her own stung at her eyes, dropping easily, too easily.

"He thinks he's, broken," she choked out in a whisper, so mangled with grief she barely even understood it herself. She had tried to ignore his blemish, she liked to think of it as. She had put on a good face when they'd walked everywhere together, and she had hoped the beauty of the world, what few parts were left any way, might distract him from the ugliness inside her and the scarring that was on him; because what wretched, fucked up world birthed a bird that couldn't fly, and what awful shit of a mother couldn't stop staring at what should have been. Had she done this? Had she broken him, because of the sharp points she herself bore?

Little lightning... if only he knew he was more whole than most of them.