She wanted to see him hurt, wanted him to writhe beneath her the way she had for seasons after her encounter with him. She wanted him to feel that agony that she felt when she was without her family, then that regret when she returned and had to beg for their forgiveness. She wanted him to feel that empty, awful loss that Gaucho had left behind in her being, that same one that was echoing in Mesec's presence as she regarded his two offspring.

She wanted all of that, but more than anything, she wanted him to come closer. Wanted him to tell her it'd be alright like he always had. From that first moment they met, when the world was spinning into darkness faster than you could blink, to that lost night on the beach when they finally broke through the years of affection and he reached in and rescued her from herself, he had always been this magnificent savior.

That's why it hurt so much when he stopped being a knight and just became the night. She had become terrified of what he could do, and that's why she left; him and everyone else. It wasn't just the threat upon her kids, it wasn't just the tortured looks he threw her across the forest as he fought the inevitable change, it was also the distrust brewing inside of her because of all that. It was the gradual tarnishing of this sterling man, and that she wasn't strong enough to make him shine again, because she had never been the light. Between Gaucho's fire and Mesec's silver, they had brightened her, cast a glow upon her darkness and kept the shadows at bay.

What could she do for them?
Gaucho had died, and Mesec had... moved on.

She could see it; it was there, in place of the hurt she thought she wanted to see, in place of the love she wished she'd still see. Mesec was shining all on his own, and that light was reserved for his two children, because he shined brightest for them. It was evident int he doting, careful way he tended to the outspoken filly. Her words had brushed past Ampere, her focus too intent upon the Nightwind, but she saw him with the girl, and he was something different. This wasn't the Mesec she'd come to run from, and this wasn't the Mesec even before that one. This was something stronger than he'd ever had, something that had gone through hell and come back out the other side. Mesec had stopped being afraid of the darkness that surrounded him, and that acceptance let him shine all the brighter.

So Ampere waned.

She didn't get what she wanted out of him; didn't get his hurt, or his love, she got something different. She visibly softened, the angles of her defensive posture growing more curved, the sharpness of her gaze dulling like a worn blade. It had all been for show anyway, and that little flame she'd ignited was washed away in an instant by the sea of grief that she was sinking into. She blinked, then dropped her head as he spoke.

"I'm glad," she said softly after moments of silence. It was if her words had to churn through all the water inside her, finally spilling out tired and soggy. "Who's are they?" she asked softer still, as if she didn't really want him to hear, because she didn't really want to know.

Unable to really look at him any more her gaze, which had been steadily averting, now watched the children on her other side. A ghost of a smile found its way to her lips as her gaze traced the outline of his two foals, especially the brave little girl. The same girl that didn't want him to leave...

"We all leave you know," she murmured to the filly, but it was audible enough for Mesec to catch it too.
She wasn't being cruel now, she was just breaking.
"Just like he left," her voice grew thin and strained, barely making it past her lips with anything intelligible. A pause then, as Ampere drew in a shaky breath. "Because he died," she exhaled, a sob as much as a phrase.