She stood before the southern beach, bathed in the night that she had stood and watched settle over the land. Sea foam wreathed her fetlocks, and every time the tide pulled it away, it took a little bit of the ground she stood on, and gave a bit more of the oceanic froth. She didn't seem to notice, or if she did, then she didn't mind. She did recognize the chill that was creeping into her though. It started off slow, but it was steady, seemingly crawling into her veins and then from there into all recesses of her body. Most likely it was from standing in the ocean during Orangemoon, but Ampere couldn't shake the feeling that it was something else.

This cold felt spiritual. She did not shiver, despite the sensation, but she did feel weak and sick, but not the way dread did whenever it filled her - it always came fast, filling her up whenever a terrible thing presented itself. This was just...the ocean, and she was more calm than was usual for her. The ocean had always done that though, served as a kind of therapy for the wildness that stoked her every breath. It didn't make sense, given how fierce and untamed the ocean herself was, but Ampere didn't need it to make sense, she just needed it.

So she watched, and she felt, and she thought on the things that she watched and she felt and so much more. For instance, how was life defined? As the water of the sea moved in front of her, roaring with each tumble of every wave, it seemed alive. The ocean was like an animal, awake, existing, struggling. It called out for understanding, and in its communication it seemed to feel, to understand, to want. Ampere felt that this wasn't just an element of the universe, but a thing, an entity, a life.

She pulled strength from its survival. She took wisdom from its endlessness. She mimicked patience from its changes.

Ampere exhaled. The ground shifted heavily beneath her, sand tugged and her frog with it. Her leg slipped with a splash, and she laughed as the salty spray shot against her nose and pricked at her face. Snorting it out and breathing it in until it stung, she shook her head vigorously, mane tossed askew upon her nape where the wind set about to teasing it into further disarray.

The moment of serenity was not broken with the motion, or the sound, or the disorganization - because that was the ocean, and that was her.

She caught sight of him, even in the dark, as he drew upon her. She didn't turn at first, but watched him from the corner of her gaze as he reached out, then lingered, then pulled away. Her breath had hitched in her chest as he did so, and her muscles had tightened, pulling her hide taut with anticipation and expectation. Electricity seemed to hum off of her, filling the space between them, but it fell away as he did, unable to connect them. Her breath whistled out in silence. Her rigidity faltered with a cold shudder. What she did not expect, was the heaviness that filled her heart, submerging it into her being as if it had taken on water.

She wanted so badly to be touched, to be held, to be loved. She craved the reassurance of his physical touch, grounding her when she so often spun through the sky in the throes of storms. He could, he had before, even if he hadn't known it then. That want made her desperate to lean into him, to reassure him that there was comfort there, that they were existing. She was not so strong as that though, not today. So she remained with the space between them, forcing a smile onto her lips as she bent her head to him, having to respond to his words, rather than his grip - it felt empty because of it.

"Gaucho would have," came the cruel whisper of her traitorous thoughts in that brief moment, when Mesec had reached to take her and failed. Her smile waned at this, and within she felt a horrible ache for that strength, that control, that fire. She had had it once, and It had burned her. Now she wanted to dance in the starlight, tangled in the chaos of the wind.

"Don't congratulate me yet," she said evenly, surprised as she always was in these moments that her voice was not as broken as her heart. I might be terrible." She smirked, and it was lopsided and disheveled, just like her. She didn't want to think of that though, because it was another weight upon her withers, another anchor to him. She wanted to feel light, she wanted to feel dark.

She breathed, letting quiet spill between them, broken only by the voice of the ocean as it sang war to the earth and peace to her soul. She felt, good next to him, because he was cool and he was easy and he was everything else that the Wildfire hadn't been. So she reached out her hand, asking for him to take it.

"Won't you fly with me?" she asked, lifting her wings from her back with sudden snap. Her 'brows lifted, and the blue of her eyes was mischievous as it swept over him. "I want to enjoy the sunshine a bit longer, before the storm comes." What she said didn't make any sense, because even though there were grey and angry clouds on the horizon, the sun had since set. Of course he might know, because this day would be no different from all the other ones they had shared, no matter how much she wished of it.

That was why she didn't wait, but reach out to nip at his neck as she streaked on past him, hooves pounding out speed while her wings swept up the wind and took her aloft.

With Ampere, there was always storms. If she didn't manage to just find them, she somehow created them, bringing a torrential downpour of fucked up on anyone and anything near by. There's a saying that the path to hell is paved with good intentions - it makes one wonder what the path to heaven is paved with - and Ampere seems to be good at laying bricks of justice on her fiery walk.

But we're not talking about that just yet, are we?

Because for now, while the sunlight still petered out of whatever emotional clouds Ampere had gathered around her, she was going to enjoy them. He was hot on her heels, eagerly grabbing her hand amid the dark, ready to make contact when it carried no promises or depths, just laughter and light. For a boy of the night, he sure liked the sun.

As she was turning her had around, the spark in her blue eyes cutting across the ebony of her shoulder, she was surprised to see him already there. He came with a sound that the wind seemed to uplift rather than strangle out, and then he was shooting past her, cutting it so close that her heart leapt into her chest as she angled away from him, afraid of collision - but all for naught. She should have known, child of the wind he was born for the skies just like she was. As she righted herself she laughed and pumped her wings, her speed letting her gain on him, but not as quickly as she liked. Eagerly her neck stretched out, teeth aimed for another playful touch of teeth to his raven-hued hide. It was these moments, these passing, brief and wonderful touches that she lived for with him. It gave her promise that he would always bring sunlight on her rainy days.

She smiled, swerving away with him after her attempted tag, trying to gain altitude and lose him in the gathering storm. She let herself whistle and holler and laugh so hard it hurt as she played with him for what could have been hours. Only when they both were feeling the tightness of tired muscles and heavy wings, did she toss him a calmer look, and descend back to the sands below.

The ocean roared like a dull reminder in the back of her head as she settled back on the beach, wings flicking back at her sides. Her neck arched as she turned to look for him, reaching her muzzle out to deliver a gentle blow of warmth and reassurance. It was easier to be casual with him after they'd bridged that initial gap again, but even so she couldn't sink into him like she wanted. She was afraid that he would collapse with her (was he strong enough, for her, for himself even?), or that he would back away intentionally, unwanting of her weight. She had never been this involved in thought with a stallion before. Normally it was an easy thing to surmise, the desire, but with Mesec she wanted more than just those physical touches. She needed all of the boy, heart and soul, because she getting awfully worn down by the hollow exchanges of mere body. In her youth, it had sustained her, but after the wreckage Gaucho left in her heart, she felt more timid, more cautious.

Pushing away those thoughts Ampere moved to walk down the shoreline, trying to chase off some of the anxiety with her hooves. She was quiet for a while because of it, thinking of him, thinking of what she wanted to say, of what she felt, and of what needed to be said. There was more than just them to dwell on though, unfortunately.

She folded and unfolded her wings, looking around, at anything but him. The sky caught her attention, and there she held her gaze, slowing back to a standstill before the beach. She watched the stars outline the oncoming storm, and wondered if they weren't duller than she remembered. "Mesec," she began, gentle and wary. With so much uncertainty already between them, would this forge a rift she couldn't cross with him? Could she possibly lose him over, what, some idyllic sense of justice and balance? "Yes," and because she was Ampere, she continued, risks or not. "Have you talked to, your mother? Since the... since her...exile."

The storm opened up. Rain shot down like bullets into the sea, and the waves lifted up to embrace the heavely chaos with hungry teeth made of foam. Ampere blinked, finally turning to look at him; she was trying on bravery for a change. "She's been gone a long time, and it doesn't seem, right."

Ampere couldn't even begin to understand Mesec's position. Instead of ove, he had duty. In place of a mother, he had a god. He was forced to share her with the world - but the world didn't want her. Did he carry her deeds, her guilt, her shadow upon his back as all children carried their parents in some way? His words upon joining the sands were not forgotten, but he realized by now didn't he, that it was not his fault, not his doing, not a taint in his blood? Maybe he did, but it didn't change what had been done, what she had done.

Ampere licked her lips; nervous. She had never really talked about this before, except maybe with her son, but even then she'd hidden it in the fable she wove. With too many other things to argue about and fight against, Ampere didn't need her religion to be one of them - she barely even understood it herself. Still, perhaps Mesec was the one that she could talk to, instead of yell at. It could go just as equally the other direction though, if his tone was anything to judge.

The sunlight had already left though, she might as well embrace the storm.

"Because her absence has been..." Ampere forced herself to look at Mesec. She'd be damned if she'd let herself be such a coward as to avoid his judgement, one she truly valued. "It's been too long! It isn't right for the world," she said at last, rushed and heavy, blurted and hot with exasperation and fear. She pressed on, afraid to give him space to chill her. "We cannot have light without darkness, Mesec. Whatever her deeds, we need her. Punishment was due but her sifnificance cannot just simply be cast aside!" Ampere shifted her weight, uncomfortable with all of this. Why had she chosen to venture down this path again?