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01-07-2017, 01:17 AM
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the Mother of Companions She almost doesn't hear them above the deafening wail of grief, its echoes folding in on each other, reverberating with an eternity of loss. It moves like its own pulse in that way, a steady rhythm of disturbance that hums in her vicinity, hung like a cruel halo above this angel of darkness. Ampere does hear them though, amid the noise of destruction and defeat. A small, yet unyielding array of shouts that burst through like a glimmer of sanity. She pauses, statuesque amid the spray of the waves which threaten to topple her, eventually. Around her the static begins to fade, as if it were the madness drawing away from her with visible shape, only able exist in her moments of lonely upheaval. It doesn't - it can exist on a breath of a whim - but it's nice to think it's the monster crawling back under your bed at day break, a threat only in the dark hours when you sit alone and afraid and weak. If only she could pretend it would all just vanish with a sizzle and an acrid odor, but what do you do when the night won't abate and the bed is is your soul, where in its depths the horrors linger and wait? A sight spins steadily from her nares as she turns. It's all blue as her eyes wash over the painted stallion, full of the ocean and its relentlessness, rimmed with the raw energy of electricity, but sharpened to a focused edge with cool steel. Her stare holds the man, if for a moment, before it slips on to the golden mother, softening faintly for the recognition of such a title. Yet her attention fully comes to rest upon the girl and her wolves, for whom she affords a paltry smile. Ampere shakes herself off nonchalantly and steps from the lip of the water. The sea breeze casts her mane in wild abandon across her neck, and the sand clings eagerly to the damp edges of her legs, lending her freckles. "Then how do you all plan on cleaning up?" she asks cooly, feigning intent for her prior display, as if she'd only come her to bend her back and do the cretin's bidding. Black lashes sweep softly across her gaze as she turns it back upon Sunjata and Yael, features cocked in expectation. "By hoof?" she asks with the barest hint of disbelief, the tone punctuated by a sweep of her wings as they slip from her sides and reach out, suggesting they look at the expanse of the wreckage the coast harbored. "Surely you've got more to do in your day than play with twigs and bones," she muses with a touch of humor, her own magic at work once more as this time she guides the electricity to work in quieter methods, shifting and altering around the dried wood so that she could move it without direct contact; seemingly effortless. Nearby branches sway under her guidance as she pulls and tugs them into place, crafting a pile that she fully intends on charging into later. She spies the other pegasus addition to the group, but the feathered girl sets about to manual labor instead of proving interesting. |
Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.
