He was on her before she'd even regained her balance after her buck. He was on her, and where she might have bristled at anyone else for such audacity, she instead reveled in the warmth of his frame as it sunk on her. Even if she wanted to, he was too heavy to dislodge easily, and the quagmire of sand and water they stood in would have thwarted her even so. His forelegs fit snugly against her sides, so much like before. Was he trying to remind her? Was he hoping to use that old tenderness to unclench her fists?

The hellish halos of his around her face distracted her already hazy focus. As he leaned closer, his voice rumbled out soft, but no less strong - sensual, even. His 'trick' might have worked, might have stunned her into submission, except for one thing. One word, actually. Zero.

Ampere hated that nickname for her son.

Although seasons past, when Ampere and Gaucho had shared the position in actuality, she never would have put anyone above him. Now though, surprising even herself, Ampere had invested everything in her child. The desire to protect him, to love him, sometimes it hurt it was so strong. What the fuck did Gaucho even know about him though, much less Ampere's parenting methods? She couldn't help but respond with a derisive snort, knowing the boy to be far too independent and reckless for his own good, just as she had been. Whatever she restricted though, it was not his freedom. Did Gaucho even know what the damn word was? He seemed to think it had to be forcibly given or taken in opposition of safety, as if one had to weigh down the other.

Wrong, was all she could think, and it screamed out in response to so many things. It burned in the wake of Gaucho's teeth which pressed and pulled at her flesh, bruising and aggravating the hide near her left wing. It paled in comparison to the burn in her mind though, one which he continued to stoke as he spoke.

Yes, Ampere wanted to say in response. Go ahead, kill Confutatis, or cripple her. Talking to her and beating her ass hadn't worked as Gaucho said, so take that further step and remove her ability to steal and torture. Murder didn't seem right though, admittedly. No one deserved control over life, whether that was to hold it, or to snuff it out, both felt wrong. Crippling... she could get behind that. You could still live free with that. "Blood for blood," Ampere rasped. She'd thought Gaucho already understood that was the way.

Gaucho would rather keep Confutatis though, but to what end? He wanted to talk about teaching, but what was Confutatis learning while she sat in the sands, drinking up the herd's resources, biding her time with feelings of injustice (presumably)? What did he expect to happen if it wasn't forever, that Confutatis would leave a changed mare? You had to MAKE change, not wait for it - hadn't he told her as much last time?

She's the Basin's problem, came the next set of Ampere's rebellious thoughts, but she refrained from spitting that out too. That wasn't a solution either, because still nothing was being done - pretending a problem didn't exist just because it wasn't in front of you was half of what was fucked up in the world. So, what then? Ampere didn't know. What else could be done other than this; there had to be something.

Not having a better answer frustrated Ampere. Still trying to sort it out, and herself, and him, Ampere could only think to do what she'd been doing, because it made her feel better. She threw out another attack, hoping she might peel away more of that bay flesh and find the solution buried beneath.

She turned her body, following Gaucho right. Her teeth flashed out, trying to grab hold of any part of him, trying to keep him close, to keep feeling him. She pursued his body after her teeth, haunches cupping her weight again as she lifted in a rear, surging towards the left side of his head. His height meant she had a far way to reach, but if she could just get the delicate parts of his face, maybe her hits would actually matter. Maybe then he would listen to her, rather than lecture her.

Her front feet, originally curled by her chest, extended out hard to try and hit his shoulder or side, mindful of his spiked collar. She leaned in on them, if she made purchase, as if she was going to climb up him, while her teeth again sought him out.

---

A: 3/4
D: 0/1
W: 799/800