Her ears flicked forward to better hear the wisdom that her newfound friend was offering. There was truth to all of it, difficult as it was for Ampere to admit that she had forgotten, that she had grown so dark that the storm had consumed her and her spark. Her children, a last remnant to the man she loved, had been swept into the black hole of her despair, all light winking out until nothing but murk and sorrow remained. Zekle had left, Grusha had vanished, Tae was trying to heal, and Iskra... little Iskra was alone.

"I'm sorry that he could not be here."

Ampere drew in a shaky breath, her body a taut bow line quivering as it stood, prepared. She was waiting for the cold maw of the sea to consume her, for the massive wave of grief to sweep her away and drown her again. She was standing taller now though, further up the shore where the waves weren't so rough. So the tide came, but it splashed with white foam and seashell dust around her hooves, receding with little more than a deeper trench in the sand where she had taken root.
Ampere exhaled.

"Me too," Ampere lamented, surprised it was above a whisper and strong. Like the creature, Ampere did not elaborate on who he was, though her mind did drift over each of those prominent male figures. The beach had done something to all of them though. Buried one with cold and wet, set another one so far up the shore she couldn't find him, and the other had always been shining down, even behind the storm clouds - with her even if she could not feel it. So, it was okay that he wasn't here, she was standing all the same.

Her head bobbed, nodding at the continued advice from the caeline. Ampere proffered the cat-dog a weak smile, before lifting her gaze back to the expanse before her. "If it's all the same to you, I think I'll stay," Ampere murmured, kneeling down and curling her legs beneath her to lay comfortably in the glowing meadow. She missed Kygo, but she was certain she'd miss this opportunity more if she left it.

So Ampere intended to sleep here, drawing what last vestibules of strength she could from this meeting, willing it to imprint strongly on her mind and resonate among all her memories with the same vibrancy that decorated the blades of grass.

Slowly, she began to sing. An old tune, of comfort, that her mother use to whistle in the evening light when she was a girl. A melody her kids might recognize from their youth, but one Iskra had never heard.