Verve

Arin was the first to stir to a gentle shake from Pumpkin’s hoof. “Psst! A-Arin!” she squeaked, tapping her hooves together nervously.

“Five more minutes…” he groaned, rolling back into Celestia’s oh so cuddly and warm wings. Warm, because the air around his legs was chilly, freezing cold. He tangled his limbs up in hers, the small pony below pressing her nose into his side through the hammock.

“What?” he growled, eyes fluttering open. “What, Pumpkin?”

“T-Tempest needed a break, and um… she wanted you to drive the ship.”

“Huh? How long has it been?” He shuffled around to his legs, after fighting off the giant white blanket snuggling his chest. Celestia tried to pry him back into her grip, but when he refused - her eyes eventually split and scanned the dark, shivering just a little from the lack of body heat.

“A few hours, b-but um… it’s been a long day. We’re over Driderhold now, and it’s a bit hard to see in the smoke and snow.”

He clattered his shoes to the floor - Celestia didn’t even give him a chance to strip, after all - stretching and popping his back in the process.

“Arin? Nooo… come back to bed,” the Princess sleepily whined, golden magic twinkling as she pulled at his hand.

“I would, but our pilot needs a break. I uh… never piloted an airship before. I hope she isn’t serious about putting me at the helm.” He popped his fingers; the stirring and talking enough to wake Umbra as well - who was quick to snap out of bed and join him.

“I will assist. I see well through snow and darkness alike.”

“But what about sleeeeeep… I need a cushion for my legs, and a warmer for my wings,” Celestia continued to complain, her magenta eyes half-drawn in the dark. Arin, not wanting to argue with her - reached down and grabbed Pumpkin, tossing her to the morning mare without a second thought. Her hat fluttered to the floor, as the Princess snatched her like a hungry piranha.

“E-Eep! T-Tia! No!”

“Pumpkin plushiiiieeee… Oh! You’re all cold!” Her wings darted around the little mare, who struggled in vain at her hooves and wings. Within seconds, the Princess began to quietly snore.

“A-Arin! Y-You traitor! Backstabber! I-I can’t believe you-eep!” The big, white, fluffy appendage of assorted pinions darted around her head, Celestia nosing Pumpkin’s smaller body into her chest. “I-I won’t forget this! Tempest will s-save me!” her muffled voice screamed, before giving up. There was no way in Tartarus she’d be able to win against Celestia in a wrestling match like this. Not when Celestia was the World’s Second Best Snuggler.

Leaving the little mare to her fate, Arin and Umbra both made the journey upstairs with little delay. That is, until they stepped out into the freezing, mane-blowing blizzard. Arin sheltered his eyes, the heat driven out of him in an instant - the gray Unicorn strong against the chilling storm.

The helm of the deck held Tempest, who was wrapped in several layers of blanket from the Captain’s quarters. Oarkin must have found a comfy place to sleep - he was nowhere in sight, neither on deck or below. If anything, he might have tore his way into the cabin to stay warm.

“Arin, Umbra. Good to see you both awake for the night shift.” She smiled, forcing the Lunar Knight to roll his eyes. Luna did call her work the night shift, after all.

“Yeah yeah, I get it. Just give me the rundown on the controls so you can get to sleep.” Arin had the smart idea to dig around in his Feyleather pack as they talked, hoping to scrounge up his old winter gear. Unfortunately, either it was abandoned on the moon - likely, or too damaged and discarded by the White Tail during his capture. Also likely. He couldn’t recall at the moment.

“Very well then. You won’t have to pull any levers today - all you have to do is steer. Let me make myself clear. You are only steering the ship. Do you understand? Do not touch the throttle. Do not shift gears. If there is an emergency, draw the throttle back to neutral, pop the clutch, and at the same time - shift the gears back slowly into first. You have no reason to do this otherwise. Let me give you a demonstration. Prepare for a jerk. And pay attention.”

Her horn cackled with sparks, to keep his eyes focused. She dropped the throttle back to zero, clenched the handle and held the clutch - before quickly shifting the gears down to first. It happened so fast, he nearly couldn’t keep up.

And he didn’t have time for notes, because when it dropped to first - he nearly crashed into the floor. If it weren’t for Umbra’s quick magic steadying him, he’d have a broken nose by now. He didn’t want to pop his trusty ‘snooter’ back in place again; the last time he did was when he freshly arrived in Canterlot, and smashed his face into the marble tiles chasing after Honey Rose.

Tempest expertly shuffled the gears back, raising the throttle steadily up to match it - jerking it down with each shift. By the Feathers, how did she do it so quickly with just two hooves?

“Simple enough, right, Arin?” Her piercing ocean green eyes struck through him like the snow, making him nod.

“Yeah, simple. I guess I’ll find you if there's a problem?” Arin’s nervous laugh was quick to follow, as Umbra gently took hold of the wheel in her hooves - despite Arin supposedly being the helmsman for the night. Her unwavering eyes peered ahead in the cold, almost entirely unbothered by the soot and snow. Arin had to blink, just to keep ash out of his eyes.

“...Yes. Simple. Arin, if you crash this ship, and we both somehow survive this experience, no amount of healing magic in all of Equis will undo what I’ll do to you.”

“I uh, take that you won’t be hugging me, then? Happy we’re both still alive?” Arin fell back an inch from the daunting Commander, who quietly shook her head. The fact that she was only a couple of inches shorter than him did little to help his nerves against the threat - the Commander on eye level with Umbra.

“I’m afraid not. Now, I’m going to go find Pumpkin. The only obstacle up here is the far off mountains. I seriously don’t know how you could buck this up. So please, no surprises.”

She said that last point with so much stress on the word, that he could feel the sentence bending to support it. A verbal feat that only a pony of her caliber could perform. She offered the heavy blankets to him, which he greedily accepted - before slinking off the helm and into the significantly less freezing halls below.

“It is hard for ponies like her and myself to trust something so important to a friend. Despite the malice, consider it an honor, Arin.” Umbra smiled, unwavering in her control of the ship.

“You know, I honestly couldn’t tell on my own. She’s had little faith in us up until recently, I thought she was simply being her usual self.” The seraph gently draped the blankets over his dear friend, making sure she’s warm.

“Just because one acts naturally, does not mean they have not changed. Before your adventure, I am sure she would relentlessly pursue a task like this until it was finished, despite the physical toll. To trust your judgement and skill over her own is more than a leap of faith. It is a sign of true growth.” A stiff breeze made Umbra turn softly into the wind; instinct to fight back against the whipping air overwhelming her urge to stay on track.

Arin made his way to the edge of the ship, chancing a look down to the burning valley beneath them. The coarse smoke flooded over the rails of the ship in thick clouds, sundered through by powerful drafts of freezing snow. Even in the dark of the endless moonlight, the massive embers of smoldering trees and sizzling corpses reached his eyes; the flames below still churning with rolling intensity.

He couldn’t see far beyond the blackened air and sparks. But it was enough to make him happy. He wouldn’t have to walk through that infested graveyard ever again. It probably also burnt up those weird black tendrils, too. And once the flames settled in the far future, life could flourish anew. Nature would continue, the ashes would settle, and the flames would turn into a bloom of new greenery.

This land could finally heal from the wounds it bore. Perhaps the forced autumn in the Deepwoods behind could allow the corpses of those long dead ponies to rest, as well - as the light of the sun could will the darkness away. If and only if they could bring peace to the land.

Coughing up a bit too much ash for his own liking, the Seraph rejoined Umbra by the wheel.

“Did I ever tell you how much I hate spiders now? I used to think they were a cool, morbid curiosity - how they would ambush prey in their webs, back in Erenorn. Now? No.”

“The tales weaved of the Driderhold do not show much mercy for their kind. I personally believe that I would slip around the edges, and keep to the clearings free of their ilk. Or simply avoid the devastation all together, as any sane pony would.” Umbra offered the wheel to Arin, who graciously accepted. They had their heading; the cloudless moon, far above. It was settled directly over Canterlot, after all - and could just barely be seen in the smoke and endless torrent of cold.

Umbra’s magic shifted, dragging the heavy blanket up over his tall shoulders. With a slip of the edge, it embraced tightly around him - as his wing slid down to hug her form close. She didn’t say much about the touch - but it was graciously accepted.

“What concerns me… is this ‘Entity’, Lord Mapleheart spoke of. It sounds eerily similar to the dark presence in Copse Vale you described. It even bears the same name. You spoke of the strange Carnival there - the ponies trapped in the dark, in an endless festival. How the shadows sunk its claws into the fairgrounds whenever the illusion of safety was broken, and it flourished under fear. If it is not related, then I am at a loss.” Umbra’s eyes scanned the darkness ahead of them, concentrating on anything that may disrupt their steady flight.

“No, I know they’re related. I refuse to believe they’re not. And if those… ‘dark kin’ are somehow at fault too, and the Umbrum beneath the Crystal Empire…” Arin sighed. “This may not be our last battle. Not yet. I wonder what else is related to the Entity.”

The ship swayed from a fresh gust of smoke-heavy wind, snow skittering across the deck. Umbra thought quietly on this information, hoping to spark some fresh ideas.

“Perhaps changelings? They drain love from their prey, and they are pony-like in nature.” She thought aloud. Unfortunately, Arin had never met a changeling to confirm. Apparently, there were two species of them - the Dark Chitin, and the Gleaming Shells. Dark Chitin Changelings were still obedient to Queen Chrysalis, and did just as Umbra explained - suck love. Gleaming Shells no longer require love, and instead sustain off of normal food - much like a normal pony. Luckily, Shining Armor covered them in depth during his Knight training, much to his shame. But any failure is a chance to learn, and teach.

“Maybe. They can create more changelings through either breeding, or through corrupting ponies - just like the Dark Kin can infect ponies and use their bodies to move around. I could definitely see it being related. And draining love sounds pretty close, too. What about the undead in the lake in Copse Vale? Those have to be related. They had black tentacles in their mouths and across their bodies.”

“Perhaps. It takes a vile creature to animate a corpse. But perhaps the answer is in the Carnival itself. It exists in the Shadowfell - the same plane that Umbrum prowl. I believe Celestia stated, quite firmly - that you were allowed to enter, if you ‘bought a drink’ - or, if you fell in the lake. Was the Ferrystallion a piece of the Entity? Or a corrupted soul at it’s call?” Umbra shuffled just a bit closer, to help keep warm. Something Arin noticed, and rather enjoyed.

“I think it’s likely. Perhaps the lake itself served as an entrance into the Shadowfell - and the Entity intended to consume us along with the Carnival? I don’t think the Ferrystallion was working with the Ticketmaster. Not in the same way, at least. Though they are related, and aware of each other. This is… something we’ll never have a proper answer to, I’m afraid.”

Their conversation continued onwards a few hours more, turning slowly to more trivial things. One of which being Umbra’s cutiemark - or, lack thereof.

“If you had to choose a special talent - what would it be?” the Seraph asked, the dark gray Unicorn now pressed tightly to his side. Arin’s arm rested over her shoulder - she was, after all, around the same size as Princess Luna. If Celestia was on eye level, then she was a few inches lower - making her neck the perfect arm rest.

“One does not simply ‘choose’ their talent. The talent chooses the pony. I have only been a pony for three years; even with my knowledge, that is not much time to find the correct skill.”

“Wow, that’s a really long talent name! Would you like me to write that down, and hope it appears on your flanks for you?” The Seraph chuckled, forcing a smirk on the usually stoic muzzle of the Unicorn.

“Why yes, please do. I will even fetch thumbtacks; we will pin it on, and gaze upon its beauty. My talent; the ability to avoid questions. But I will not digress; for a less mundane task, I would wish for something related to the field of magic. Perhaps the study of ancient spells. Or, if I must limit myself to the chores of peasants - then cooking sounds pleasurable. Especially when meat is involved.”

Umbra’s carnivorous nature never faded, huh? Note to self: Never die around Umbra. She may try your meat in a stew.

“Funny, I’ve only ever seen you serve a couple things. Though they’re really delicious, how big is your cookbook?” By now, his eyes had slipped off the approaching east, Umbra’s own gaze wandering out of boredom.

“I have quite the selection beyond stews and soup, yet rarely the chance to attempt my hoof at it. I was quite fond of baking, for a while - dark chocolate brownies and rich cakes. But the ingredients are expensive, when eggs freeze in your pack or crack on your travels. I had attempted to keep chickens to offset this issue, but they died rapidly in the cold. I cook a wonderful roast, as well. I learned that after tending to my former livestock.”

“Expensive? Actually, I never asked, but… how’d you make money living in the Frozen Wastes? Surely you couldn’t apply at the local Neigh-Mart. Nor shop in the Crystal Empire - you were always kinda quiet on the issue, back in Erenorn. If you were even nearby - you threw yourself into your work back then.” Arin leaned against the strapped instructions on the wheel - staring now at the thinking Umbra.

“I occasionally took an assassination contract for the less-than-brave Nobles of Canterlot. Usually union leaders, or other ponies they simply did not wish to see on the streets. It gave me time to adopt a persona - Amethyst Amoire, which I would use to great advantage when blending in.”

“By the Feathers - you… actually, no, that’s reasonable. You were exceptional at your job, back in Alma Sol. But you killed ponies for cash? That doesn’t bother you now?” Arin let the shock leave him, now eager to probe deeper into her past.

“It did not. At the time, I lacked… ‘empathy’, as you explained to me, three years ago. Now? I do not think I could do so in good conscience. Seraphs aren’t an issue - many are deserving of death. But I do not believe I could return to my old ways. Not now. Not again. And not ever onwards.”

Her eyes swiveled back to the dark smoke before them - grimacing as her magic roughly knocked Arin to the side out from the blanket, seizing the wheel to give it a mighty, terrifyingly sharp spin towards port. The Seraph’s eyes shot forward - unable to spot the obstacle Umbra was clearly trying to avoid in the falling snow and black smoke.

She stared at the levers, grabbing Arin by the arm and tugging him forward. “Mountain! Stop! Now!” she yelled, as the rudder rolled the ship in a wide, uncontained circle - she clenched the wheel again, spinning it hard to starboard as the boat rocked and careened. Jostling in the air in bouncing swings of the balloon’s ropes.

Arin gripped the rusted controls, crouching low to keep his balance. In the pitch of the night, he couldn’t see - and quickly summoned a Mage Light to illuminate the dark. What was the order again?!

He found ‘throttle’ and yanked it back to neutral - the rust forcing him to slam into the bar just to get it to yield. How could Tempest do this so easily! Next, clutch… by the feathers, what does a clutch even do?

Finding the lever, he squeezed it tight and yanked - and… nothing. He yanked it again, twice more - nothing. Wasn’t it supposed to stop now? Why were the propellers still spinning?!

“Arin! We are not stopping! I specifically requested stopping!” Umbra growled, the mountains looming into view of the swaying ship. By the Feathers - they were bearing down on the peaks, and with the engine idling fast - they wouldn’t be able to turn out of hull-shattering collision soon.

Right! The gears! Clutch - shift down, clutch shift down - all the way to first.

Their momentum carried them forward, before the lack of power jerked the ship in a seizing rocking motion - Arin’s face crashing into the solid poles in front of them. Luckily, Umbra’s magic yanked him to his feet before he could jostle one forward - or worse, snap them clean off.

The door to the crew’s cabin bucked open, Tempest lunging on the deck in a rush - Pumpkin dangling anxiously from her neck. But, finding them not slamming into the rock of the far mountains, her shaky legs soon came to a rest - stomping her way back to the helm. Pumpkin taking this moment to shuffle to her side, following quietly along.

“Thank you, you two - but I think I’ll take it from here,” she burst, politely motioning for Umbra to move. The dark mare did so, more than happy to be free of responsibility once more.

“Hey, it could have been worse, Tempest. Sorry for waking you up.” Arin scratched the back of his head, hoping to shake off the tension and ease the Commander’s stress.

“...It’s fine. You did… admirable. I meant to navigate the mountains on my own. Thank you for letting me rest. I’ll handle it from here. We didn’t crash, that’s all that matters. And I’m sorry for waking you up, Pumpkin.”

The little mare gave a shrug. “It happens, hon.”

Arin and Umbra, no worse for wear - stepped off the helm with soft thuds on wood. Their Captain calling to the Seraph before he vanished.

“And Arin?” she said above the whipping winds.

“Yes?”

“Please refrain from putting my marefriend in the lion’s den again. She was almost smothered by Celestia’s fluff. I was almost smothered, as well. If I didn’t zap her with my magic, neither of us would have survived to tell the tale.”