Mist walked into the cafeteria with Right the following morning, grabbed her food from the kitchen and took their usual seats at one of the tables near the exit. She ate her slice of carrot cake in silence, thoughts muddled. Yesterday was difficult for her to come to terms with, she wondered if she could have done things differently, could have resolved the situation peacefully. Bitterly, she realized she could have if she was even half the mare she was a year ago, if she was a bit faster, a bit more confident instead this frail shadow of her former glory. Mist thought that, if she hadn't left, maybe she could have gotten through to Sunset, or ended up enslaved, either one was a possibility.
Pegasi didn't use magic like hers anymore, they didn't hold sunlight, create winds, and bend the weather to their will. No, pegasi made the weather in the factory in Cloudsdale and shipped it across Equestria, pegasi learnt how to move clouds, break up unwanted weather patterns and stamp their own in it's place wasting the natural elemental magics already present in favor of heavily modified factory-made patterns that left no room for deviation, for variation. And yet, Mist used her magic for thievery...
Mist was still unsettled by her own actions against Sunset, she knew she wasn't good in the idealistic sense, the kind Equestrian society expected of her. She came to terms with that a long time ago, but it wasn't like she was using her special talent for weather management. Under the current laws, her talent was classed as unlawful weather manipulation, and the Equestrian Weather Board wouldn't give her the qualifications to make it legal, because her talent broke the law by definition. All she could do was bend light off her own body in a kaleidoscope of colours for a party trick to impress ponies.
That was why she used it for stealing, that was why she was doubting herself now, an endless spiral of what if's and stress on the verge of tears.
Mist put all her attention on her food. Focused on eating, she tuned out her surroundings, and while her dour mood persisted, she calmed down just enough to ignore her inner turmoil for the time being. Some deep-seated instinct compelled her to keep her composure, that getting emotional was the wrong thing to do.
She'd get in trouble, get told off, everyone else didn't need to hear about her problems-
"Oi, you alright?"
Mist was snapped out of her daze by Right's voice, the man looking at her from his seat next to her. Her reply was automatic, habitual. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Right raised a brow at her. She knew he wasn't fooled, but her own calm exterior was not one she was willing to break. He sighed and didn't press the issue the further, the brief flicker of concern on his face was a sign they'd talk about it later. Much later, if Mist had anything to say about it. The two of them finished eating in silence, left their plates in the kitchen for whoever had dishwashing duty that day, and left the cafeteria.
"... If you need a day or two to recoup, jus' say so." Right said gruffly.
Her argument was halfhearted. "I have the meeting to go to."
"You got kidnapped girl, it can wait."
Mist was tired of being, she wasn't sure what. A liability? A burden? Sitting on her arse and twiddling her wings never sat well with her, and though her condition had forced that life style upon her, Mist Veil was all the more eager to break free from it. Her best chance at doing so was just on the horizon.
It was so close she could feel it.
"The sooner I do this, the sooner I'll know what my options are," she reasoned. "What happened yesterday proves something needs to be done."
Right looked at her and shrugged lazily. "Tell that to Reg then."
"You still want to go through with the meeting?" Reginald asked Mist, observing her as he sat at the ship's controls. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah." the pegasus replied and Reginald could see the determination in her eyes despite her subdued demeanor.
He looked over at his Right Hand Man, standing by the exit to the bridge. Right was subtle, silently voicing his opinion behind Mist's back with a bit of sign language.
'Stressed about yesterday. On the verge of a breakdown.'
Well, that wouldn't do. Reginald hummed thoughtfully, on one hand he could relate to her drive to get things done, to push past mental or physical blockades for the sake of finishing a task. On the other, it was worrying seeing how rattled she was, she was good at hiding it but the weariness it evoked in her her gave him pause. He looked over at Right questionably.
Right shrugged and Reginald turned his attention to Mist, she was waiting patiently but he could see how her mood was wearing her down. He'd have to monitor her, he had yet to properly assess the extent of her sensitivity and behavior due to her passive personality. And secretly, Reginald was concerned about her after the fight with Sunset, he wanted to pull her aside, to talk to her. But there was the matter of her almost blind obedience towards him, he knew any conversation he had with her would seen by her as one between The Clan Chief and The First Pony.
Not between Reginald and Mist. It was something he'd have to work on, an idea he dreaded out of habit from years of carefully maintaining his status as the leader, but an idea he wanted to pursue. He'd be lying if he said otherwise.
"My Right Hand Man and I will accompany you then, for security of course," Reginald stated. "I won't take any chances after yesterday."
Mist nodded. "Yes Sir."
As the three of them left the bridge to make preparations to leave, Reginald caught Right's eye and the two nodded. Both men certain today would not be a walk in the park. Reginald silently hoped luck was on their side. They sorely needed it.
The castle of Lord Sombra was as intimidating as it was enchanting. The throne room, with dark red carpet, portraits decorating the obsidian walls and the ornate, cushioned wooden throne gave the room a dignified air that differed from the splendor and magnitude of Canterlot. The Lord himself, a dark gray stallion with red eyes, a curved horn that faded from gray to red near the tip, and his black, smoke-like mane tied back, reclined on his throne every bit the picture of nobility dressed in a blood red suit.
Mist stood before Lord Sombra and bowed in respect as she spoke. "Your Lordship, for this past year I have been struck down with an ailment that has left me a shadow of my former self. No matter the progress I make towards recovery, I will never be the mare I once was, and my only hope lies in practices long since demonized and outlawed by society."
She stood up to see the vampire lord looking down at her impassively, and when he spoke, his voice held steel and authority that she felt in her bones.
"The Kingdoms of Darkness do not permit just anyone to join their ranks. Vampirism is not a miracle cure, or a disease. My people are not monsters no matter what your pony princess says. Gabriel's ward or not, I will not help you merely because you asked."
"Then, may I ask what I must do?" Mist asked respectively. "All I seek is freedom from the weakness and pain I am plagued with almost daily."
Sombra leaned forward, curious. "Tell me girl, what is your Talent?"
A spike of terror shot through Mist and she squashed down old fears, old expectations that no longer applied, and answered cordially, reminding herself that there was nothing wrong. "I am one of one the last known Sky Casters, a practitioner of long lost pegasi wind and light manipulation that is, by the very nature of the Equestrian legal system, classed as forbidden magic."
"A Sky Caster?" Sombra raised a brow at that, peering at her. "And what, pray tell, would you do with your newfound freedom if I granted it?"
"Live my life, resume my work as Bluebird and as a member of the Toppat Clan," Mist replied honestly. "No more than what I was doing over a year ago."
"As honorable as you have been in the past when answering pleas for help from my subjects, I cannot in good conscience test your compatibility with vampirism without first ensuring the safety of my kingdom," Sombra explained. "Therefore, a series of trials are in order, proof that you and this Toppat Clan you serve are trustworthy."
"Understandable, what are your orders?" Mist asked.
Sombra was evidently pleased by her cooperation, smirking. "Once a month, The Moon Witch sheds her peaceful guise to host a ball to mingle with the hidden folk, travel to the Sapphire City at the edge of my kingdom and attend the ball, not as Bluebird, nor as Mist Veil... But as Lillian Meadows," Sombra saw the surprise and confusion that was without a doubt written on her face and grinned deviously, showing the prominent fangs his kind was known for. "I have eyes and ears across the globe, I know exactly who you are. No matter what name you answer to, I will not accept an Equestrian noble as my subject until they proven they aren't as foolish or selfish as their former peers. The Blue Moon Ball will play host to not only myself, but the other rulers of the other realms hidden from the public eye."
"If you can make it through the night without making a fool of yourself, there may be hope for you yet," Sombra stated and waved a hoof in dismissal. "Go and make your preparations, I will see you again on the night of the ball one week from today."
"Yes, your Lordship." Mist said, bowed once more, and turned around to leave with Reginald, Right, and Gabriel walking out with her.
"I'd like a word with you Bluebird," Gabriel stated, the older pegasus in full assassin's gear looking at her stoically. "After all, we haven't had a chance to, talk."
Mist sat across from her mentor in his office at the Mercenary Guild. The office was mostly for show, for the rare instances the guild needed Gabriel to see clients or perform other duties. The place was finely decorated, but lacking the personal touches she knew he kept solely for his private residence. She felt less like catching up with an old friend and more like a young mare being called into the principal's office.
Or her father's study she mused dryly as a newspaper was wordlessly dumped onto the desk. The Canterlot Times front headline stared her dead in the face.
Gentlemare Thief Bluebird Apprehends Former Partner In Crime. Lost Princess Returned to Canterlot!
"Lillian, how are you holding up?" Gabriel asked, resting his hooves on the desk, and his lone visible eye cutting into her as she started her automatic response. "Be honest."
She closed her mouth, readjusting her glasses as she stared down at the paper. It was never easy for her, talking about her feelings directly. Years of having her opinions ignored, her feelings invalidated, and doing whatever was asked of her to receive any scrap of positive attention had both molded her into a quiet mare, and quelled any attempts to be outwardly expressive. It was hard, dredging her emotions to the surface and putting them into words, it was like a tidal wave of stress and doubt threatening to break the dams of her composure and flood out in a bawling, ugly emotional mess.
"I almost... Became a bigger threat, I wanted to cut off Sunset's horn, I wanted to prove to her she knows rut all about what it means to be a villain," she explained bitterly. Her throat felt tight as she fought back tears, her voice sounding higher in her distress. "I don't wanna hurt anyone, I don't wanna have to go that far! But she threatened to kill Reginald if I didn't do what she said an' if weren't for Celestia agreeing to help I would have done it an' I hate myself for that. I shouldn't be thinking like that."
"Lillian, look at me," Gabriel instructed and she looked up at him. "You did what you thought was best, and even if you had taken Sunset's horn, that mare deserved it. In your current condition she could kill you if too much magic floods your system at once." He was serious. "You were too lenient on her, but you and I differ in our approach to this line of work..."
Mist fell silent, Gabriel content to let her quietly wrestle with her emotions, and after a few moments she found the energy to speak. "And if I'm pushed that far again?"
Gabriel leaned back in his chair. "You have rules as Bluebird, should you ever be forced to break them, pushed to far, embrace it. You are not a villain Lillian, show them why. Turn their preconceived notions of good and evil on their heads and give your audience the performance of a lifetime." Mist could here the amusement in his voice. "You always did love a good show."
A new performance, new mask for her to wear? She could understand the logic behind it, she latched onto the idea, and it eased her turmoil. It was proof she still had options, still had a choice to be the person she wanted to be. She'd seen Bluebird as her only option, a simple persona brimming with confidence she never had, able to do what she pleased because she was justified.
Because for years, it was all she had left.
Mist set the idea aside for the time being, giving Gabriel a small smile. "Thanks... for hearing me out."
He nodded. "You should tell your new friends, if you plan on working with them indefinitely, it will do you some good to see if they can be trusted with your sensitivities."
"I'm not gonna emotionally manipulate them Gabe, you know I don't do feelings..." Mist said flatly.
Gabriel rolled his eye. "Spare me your tough mare act."
"Yeah, yeah... Anything new going on since I left?" she asked.
Her mentor sounded pleased. "A new group of heroes have taken up watching over Manehatten, a group of teenagers, children really..."
Right stood just behind his boss as Reginald scribbled away at a document at his desk, papers strewn across its surface. He read over Reginald's shoulder, plans for a village, a small self-contained base of operations with housing, farms and a few warehouses for storage. It would be a good starting point, somewhere potential recruits could go.
"Any idea where we're puttin' down roots?" Right asked.
"The jungle looks promising, with the airship as our primary mode of transportation it would be too risky to explore beyond Equestria's borders. At least, not until we have a steady source of materials, parts, and supplies to maintain the ship. Any word on the shipment of new weapons?"
"I'll send a team out to pick 'em up tomorrow, most of the crew aren't happy 'bout swappin' the guns out for crossbows but if it'll get they job done, the men will get used to 'em," Right replied. "Already put an ad up in the Mercenary Guild askin' for a professional, thought it might be good if a few men got lessons an' taught everyone else."
Reginald smirked. "A good idea, I presume you're going with them."
"Reckon it might be good to learn for when I run out of bullets," Right drawled. "A shame I wasn' there to deal with that Sunset girl, woulda been satisfying to shoot her horn off..."
"At best you'd damage it, ponies appear to be naturally resistant to our munitions," Reginald said. "On the flip side, we appear to be naturally resistant to magic."
"That so?"
"Yes, when she knocked out Mist, she tried to do the same to me, however I could fight it off rather quickly, she tried a few things before our little scuffle ended with her taking my necklace and teleporting away with Mist." Reginald sighed. "Still, that's over now and we can focus on getting the clan a stable foothold in Equestria."
Right voiced what his boss left unsaid. "An' get Mist treated."
"Right, that depends on her, all we can do is remind her the clan has her back," Reginald remarked and stretched. "I do hope we can pull this off."
Right could tell Reginald was exhausted, even though the man put on a brave face, or was outright oblivious to how hard he was working, it still left a coil of worry to tighten in his gut whenever he found the Chief passed out at his desk, or shambling into the cafeteria at four in the morning for food. It must be bad if Reginald was just casually dropping a bombshell like that on him.
"You've got 'elp Reg, it's not like the days before you became Chief." Right reminded, as he always did.
Reginald set his pen down and papers aside, sighing. "You remember how rough it was, how fragile the clan was. Splintered groups held together through their fear and hatred of one man, all it takes is one person, just one and everything changes for better and for worse. I don't want anyone thinking I'm not doing whatever I can to keep us afloat."
Right rested a hand on his friend's shoulder. He wasn't surprised, Reginald would worry about anything and everything if the man didn't have something to do. "No one's sayin' anything like that, we're doin' fine, an' we got you to thank for that," he cracked a smile. "Terrence wasn' half the Chief you are. Clan would've died if you hadn't stepped in."
They'd both witnessed the previous Clan Chief run reckless, dangerous heists where half the teams returned injured or worse, and the crew lived in fear of their leader, keeping quiet lest Terrence Suave catch wind of their dissent and threaten to throw them overboard. It was why Reginald prided himself on earning the clan's respect as leader, why he'd put his best foot forward with Mist.
A man like Terrence didn't need to cause pain to inspire fear in others.
Right saw Reginald sag, partly from exhaustion, partly from relief. "I know Right, I know..."
"You need a break from work, a proper one," Right stated. "Take a few days off, ponysit Mist for a bit."
His friend chuckled. "Is that what you call it?"
"No, but I don' see you gettin' off your arse to talk to her," Right deadpanned. "Not outside of work anyway."