Harmony

Whatever qualms Viola had about physically injuring Domino, Harper had thrown to the wind. Apparently, age was extremely irrelevant.

Octavia screamed. Harper laid into the smaller boy far too ferociously relative to his stature. More striking was the way by which Domino hit back, shaking off the initial blast to his cheek with incredible resilience. The way they postured was the same. The way they leveled their fists was the same. The way they braced against the gravel, the way they balanced, their postures, their movements, the vibrant fury between earthen-brown and sky-blue glares, it was all identical. They didn’t just fight the same way--they’d done this before.

“My God, Harper, knock it off!” Viola shouted, her own eyes wide with terror.

Her words were useless. Harper swung at Domino again and again. He twisted his body sharply sideways on occasion, sending one foot careening into Domino’s torso. He went low. He went high. He went in every conceivable direction, and Domino followed just as effectively despite his size and age. Their brawl was as physically impressive as it was outright brutal to witness. It was doubly so, given the sounds of blows that left Octavia recoiling with each connecting strike.

“Do you ever know when to shut the hell up?” Harper yelled above the chaos. Not once did he cease his relentless assault.

Domino cut upwards with his left fist, digging into Harper’s abdomen. “I hate you! I wish you’d never come back! Get out of my life!”

Harper staggered, gritting his teeth. “I leave you alone for a month and you go right back into the same circle that convinces you I’m the embodiment of friggin’ evil!”

Domino tensing his muscles did little to shield him from Harper’s kick to his side. It wasn’t enough, and the older Maestro skillfully twisted his body as he readied a second blow. “I thought you were better than this! I really did! I wanted to give you a chance, and you proved them right! They were right about everything!”

“What the hell were they right about? You’re talking about the same people who’d ruin someone’s life if it meant making their own better!” Harper shouted, landing the following kick with too much success. Domino coughed, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily.

“This is…exactly what I’m talking about! You think there’s a right way and a wrong way! Everybody's just trying to survive, idiot! Not everyone is as lucky as you!”

“You can survive without hurting other people,” Harper spat, shoving the knuckles of one hand deep into Domino’s jaw from below.

“You’re not a saint!” Domino screamed. One knee, lifted high, buried itself harshly into Harper’s stomach.

It was Harper’s turn to cough. “I know I’m not! I’m just trying to keep you safe!”

Octavia was a horrified spectator, powerless to intervene not far from their battle. She was rooted in place, cursed to watch the two Willful Maestros tear each other apart. There was something incredibly ironic about Harper’s words as he relentlessly attacked the young boy. She didn’t exactly know Domino that well. Still, this seemed to be a far cry from keeping him safe.

“Octavia, do something!” Viola cried, gesturing wildly towards the brawl.

Instead, Octavia only shook her head. When Viola reached for Silver Brevada’s case, Octavia raised one hand in opposition.

“Don’t. Let them…do what they’ve gotta do,” she protested.

Viola bit her fingernails, practically growling in aggravation. “This is so stupid!”

“You honestly think I’m safer with you than with them? At least with them, I know I can get by for the day! They don’t even know I’m coming here! I have to keep my mouth shut just to live in both worlds! Do you have any idea how hard that is?” Domino cried, his voice wavering.

Harper wrapped his fingers around Domino’s wrists, gripping hard enough that Octavia feared he’d crush them into dust. “You don’t have to! You don’t need either of them! Just stay with me, please!”

“Stop making me choose!”

“This shouldn’t even be a hard decision!” Harper shouted, struggling to keep the squirming boy in place.

Futile or not, Domino’s flailing was ceaseless. “See? You're doing it again! They’re not bad people, Harper, as much as you want to pretend they are!”

Harper shook his head, physically shaking with the effort of maintaining his restraints. “Holly and Ivy will get you killed one day,” he said, his low voice dripping with ire.

His sharp words did nothing. Domino didn’t hesitate. With one swift motion, the boy swung his entire body forward, bashing his head against Harper’s. Harper cried out in pain as they collided, and he released his grip with such force that Domino stumbled. His hands raced to his forehead, clenching his skull in the aftermath of the crushing blow.

Domino panted heavily as he staggered. One trickle of red trailed down his swelling lips. He swiped futilely at the stream with the back of a bruised hand. “I’ll take my chances,” he spat. “It beats dying with you.”

He was gone. Again.

In the wake of Hell that had erupted in every conceivable way, Domino sprinted towards the twisting alleyway that Octavia could never hope to navigate alone. It was sudden enough that she could barely track him with her eyes. For a child, he was surprisingly fast. She kicked herself for forgetting that much. With two quick turns, he was out of sight. He would hardly be out of mind. In exchange for the absence of biting words, Harper’s quiet groans of pain filled the gap. She could’ve sworn there were aggravated growls in there, somewhere.

“Are you two always like that?” Viola snapped.

“Stop it,” Octavia chided, waving one hand dismissively. “Harper, are you okay?”

If she listened closely, she could hear him scrambling to catch his breath. “He’s done…worse than that before. He’s…rusty as hell if that’s…all he’s got.”

Viola sighed. “Just…get yourself together, please. Are we dealing with this stalking thing, or are you gonna keep picking fistfights with kids?”

Harper chuckled disdainfully, content to let Octavia peel his own hands from his head. “He’s not that much younger than me.”

“How are we gonna catch these people in the act, anyway?” Octavia asked. She narrowed her eyes as she peered at his injuries, one by one. Blood dripped steadily from a gash just above his left eyebrow, and she winced.

Harper shrugged. Whatever pain came with the movement was enough to make him wince for another reason. “Wait around, I guess. Sounds like they just show up whenever. Be on our guard, hide if we have to.”

Viola put her hands on her hips, shifting her weight onto one foot. “The ‘why’ is pretty important, you know.”

“I think that comes with the territory,” he said. “Figure that out once we get to it. Why the hell anyone would start a problem with a homeless camp full of kids is beyond me, but this whole city is a mess.”

Viola scoffed. “Preaching to the choir.”

“So, like…waiting here? For how long?” Octavia added. As delicately as possible, she parted the bangs veiling Harper’s eyes. She could’ve sworn at least one of them was blackening in the slightest.

“Honestly? Might need to stay overnight. I kinda wanna stay the night anyway, just to see the kids again,” Harper said. To his credit, he was doing well at tolerating Octavia’s curious prying. Still, the way he recoiled beneath even fleeting touches across sensitive areas wasn’t lost on her. The aching aftermath was probably starting to settle in.

“Do you…mind if I stay with you?” Octavia murmured, her question almost inaudible.

Harper’s smile was hindered by whatever pain came with curling bruised lips upwards. “Both of you can, if you want. Can’t guarantee the lodging is gonna be quite as comfortable as what you’re used to.”

Viola tensed. “I-I mean, would we be intruding? This is your home.”

Octavia’s eyes flickered to Viola instead. “There’s something you should…know about, actually, before you commit to staying here tonight.”

When Viola raised an eyebrow, Octavia continued. “I’m not trying to kick you out or anything, but there’s something that happened today that I think you should be aware of. It’s kind of its…own problem, and he’s--it’s--currently at your place. You might wanna go…address it.”

“You’re being cryptic. Also, are you sure you’re not trying to kick me out?”

She couldn’t stop the tiniest of smirks from crawling onto her face. “Only slightly. I’m not joking about the other thing, though.”

For a moment, Viola only stared at her. “I don’t know what the ‘other thing’ entails, but you’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

“What?”

It was Viola’s turn to grin. She dropped Royal Orleans to the gravel unceremoniously, making for the alley instead. “See you tomorrow.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

With careful steps in reverse, Viola playfully flicked one finger back and forth between Octavia and Harper. Octavia gathered as much gravel as she could fit in one hand, launching the clumps of stone in Viola’s direction. To her credit, she got fairly far. Several too-close-for-comfort pebbles were enough of a catalyst for Viola to run, the Soulful Maestra outright laughing as she escaped.

“You’re so weird!” Octavia called after her.

When she returned her attention to a blushing Harper, adjusting his cap uncomfortably, her best attempts to regain eye contact were in vain. “You’re not allowed to be weird, either,” she chided.

“Does she even know where she’s going?” he asked.

Octavia shrugged.

“Also, why did--”

“It’s…gonna sound stupid,” she began. “She’s…affluent. People know her. She’s got a target painted on her back. If these people are anything like you or Domino said, she’d be in more danger than any of us. I don’t wanna risk it.”

Harper nodded. “That’s…fair. I didn’t think about that. You don’t think Viola can stand up for herself, though?”

Octavia winced. “I mean, she can, but I just…I don’t know. Just in case. We don’t know who these people are, or what they’re capable of.”

“So we can die, but Viola can’t die. Got it,” he teased.

Octavia elbowed him in the ribs playfully, well aware of the way she'd earn a groan of pain for her efforts. She was entirely correct. She didn’t feel particularly bad about it. “We’re not gonna die, stupid. If we die, I’m killing you first.”

Making the decision on Viola’s behalf felt uncomfortable. Octavia kept that much to herself. For the most part, she was relieved that Viola had accepted her haphazard rationale and departed with grace. It wasn’t as though she was lying about the lightning-flavored concern that awaited on the opposite end of Coda. She’d cross that bridge when she got to it.

For the time being, she was burdened with the responsibilities of a good-decision-maker. Granted, it wasn’t the worst obligation she’d been shouldered with as of late. Battered and bruised as her accomplice was, she hoped her new title would serve her better than him for the rest of the night.

The sun took an eternity to free her of the day, dragging the chaos in her wake down over the horizon. She’d hardly had a moment to breathe since sunrise, by which she’d all but forgotten her bell-born torture that morning. Newborn night brought along the soft songs of insects, the twinkle of stars dimmed by city lights, and dozens of tiny smiles in a tented village. Their happiness was as abundant as it was contagious, and the return of a guardian so beloved was a cause for delight.

Of the little orphans that embraced Harper dearly, Octavia recognized several. They, in turn, occasionally recognized her. Louise had remembered her name, somehow. The smile Octavia earned was far less vibrant compared to her protector, and yet still every bit as polite.

Several weeks of absence hadn’t shaken Harper in the slightest. He’d held fast to his guardian crown, once more a blessing to those much smaller than himself. He cooked. He cleaned. He reclaimed his role with grace, even for one night alone. He brought stories of comfort to guide little dreams, collectively offered and softly told. Octavia was on edge for most of them, given what tales he came a bit too near to sharing.

Per his words, every child had been made aware of his prior departure. She highly, highly doubted he’d ever revealed the truth of his voyage, let alone the scorching prowess that called his hands home. The moment he began piecing together fragments of their travels, Octavia's heart nearly stopped altogether. To Harper's credit, he was careful, pruning the harrowing and destructive details away like wilting flowers. Riding a train was fine. Attending an auction was exciting. Witnessing the devastation of entire cities and abetting the murder of a conservator were stories best left unshared.

It was all she could do to trust him with treading a fine line. If he painted a rosy journey suitable for bedtime, that was fine. If he spilled the secrets of the Maestro world to children too young to spell “Stradivaria”, she really was going to kill him. He’d hidden Royal Orleans for as long as he did, and she liked to imagine he’d have the common sense to keep biting his tongue.

The idea of sleeping in his tent was, truthfully, enough to elicit a blush. Octavia hated to admit it, although Harper wasn’t immune to the same. Still, he’d highlighted a lack of spare lodging. Octavia should’ve known better, regardless. His canvas abode had always been sizable, anyway, and she had plenty of room to breathe. He gave her the cot. He took the floor, and she felt awful. Supposedly, one pillow and two thin blankets sufficed in tandem with what flimsy canvas passed as carpeting. For how sore he was going to be tonight, sleeping would be the least of his problems.

She spent at least a full hour playing doctor, channeling her inner Josiah the entire time. She made due with what haphazardly-cobbled-together medical supplies the camp had collectively available. Octavia had no qualms about stemming blood with peppered cotton and coating a reckless Maestro in bandages. She did, at least, make doubly sure to remind him of how he’d reaped what he’d sown. There came a point when she did so nearly once per wound, and Harper only laughed in the face of her chiding. He didn’t seem to disagree.

Harper had, in fact, been burned. His right ankle hadn’t been spared of his rash actions. Just above his sock, his skin had been charred in passing, graced by a flame cleared in a moment of hasty reflex. Octavia couldn’t gauge the degree of the burn, necessarily. Even so, it blistered enough to leave her mildly recoiling at the sight alone. Her reaction, too, was enough to make Harper laugh. For that, she tied the bandage tighter than she should’ve. He winced. It was a satisfactory punishment.

Don’t be mean, he’d joked, beaming. I’ll let you beat me up next time, instead.

She’d rolled her eyes, although not without a reluctant smirk. Don’t tempt me.

The cot was surprisingly comfortable. She cast her eyes high at the canvas ceiling, just as she’d done once before. There were no embers to chase with her wondrous gaze this time. Within four soft walls, Royal Orleans had once sung so sweetly to her as searing rain ignited before her eyes. It was a nostalgic thought, and it kept her warm. For as worrisome as their current circumstances were, she felt at home in a home not her own.

“I know it’s not exactly Viola’s house,” Harper apologized from below her.

She closed her eyes, indulging in the songs of chirping insects outside. “I’m low-maintenance. You know that.”

“Oh? How low-maintenance are we talkin’, here?” he teased.

Octavia couldn’t fight the stupid grin she always had to battle around him. “I could…probably get by with less than this.”

“Untie your braids.”

“There’s a line to be drawn somewhere.”

“Medium-maintenance, then.”

“Whatever,” she scoffed.

In the silence between them, she could hear him shuffling slightly on the floor. “Today was…a lot,” he offered.

“Mhm.”

“For both of us.”

“Yeah.”

She rolled onto her side, one braid dangling over the side of the cot. Harper’s head had settled into his arms, every sandy strand of hair scattering against his fingers. It wasn’t often that she saw him without the cap. Tethered to what was almost the ground or otherwise, he seemed comfortable enough. He never met her eyes as he spoke, content to leave his own glued to the ceiling.

“Do you think I was too harsh?”

“To who? Domino?” Octavia asked.

He nodded.

Octavia trailed one fingertip along the fabric of the cot. “I mean…I think I kinda followed along with what you guys were talking about, even if it wasn’t really my business. I heard Holly and Ivy’s names. I remember them. They’re still an issue?”

“They’ll always be an issue,” he said disdainfully.

“But I thought they were just two stupid girls. You made them sound so…silly the first time. And at the auction, the bickering. It was just that, right? You guys just…don’t get along, right?”

Harper paused for a moment. “I’m trying to think of a way to say this nicely.”

She was silent. At last, he inhaled.

“I…lied a little. Well, not really, but they’re a bigger problem than I wish I had to admit. They’re a bad influence on Domino, that’s correct. They’re both idiots, that’s also correct. Everything they do usually screws up in some capacity, and they’re so blinded by greed that they have no idea how stupid they actually look when they slip up.”

Octavia nodded. “That’s more or less what you told me the first time.”

“They have gotten people put in prison before.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Lying about bounties, mostly. Painting the wrong people in the wrong light if it means claiming reward money for turning criminals in. Things along those lines. They have gotten people seriously hurt, they’ve gotten people in serious trouble, and they’ve put people in serious danger. They’ll sell out anyone and anything that benefits them in some capacity. That’s just how they are. They’re selfish, and in the dangerous way.”

He propped one knee up comfortably. “They lie and steal like it’s their religion. If they were two random people, I wouldn’t give a damn, and they could screw themselves over as much as they wanted. The problem is that Domino cares about them, and I can’t get him not to. I can’t even really blame him. They’re cousins by blood.”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Octavia interrupted, “how did he…end up with you?”

Harper sighed. “He never really ‘ended up’ with me. He technically lives at the camp, yeah, but he disappears a lot. I know he’s with them, and I don’t actually know what he’s doing when he is. I hate that I don’t believe him about the self-defense thing.”

“You think he killed people intentionally? With his Harmonial Instrument, I mean?”

Harper squeezed his eyes shut tightly. “God, I wish the thought didn’t even have to freakin’ cross my mind. I want to believe he wouldn’t stoop down to their level. If he didn’t care about other people, he wouldn’t have stuck around to care for the kids. I’m sure of it. He tries to help in his own way. It’s just not the right--I mean, the…safest way.”

Octavia hesitated to prod him. “Do you know how he ended up…you know…?”

His eyes flickered to her own for a moment, piercing and strict. She tensed. If it was a sensitive subject, she regretted the question immediately. Regardless, he continued.

“Mom got sick and died. Dad went down the alcohol route. He’s not actually an orphan, he’s a runaway. At least, he was, until we confirmed his damn dad actually did drink himself to death later. Holly and Ivy, their parents died in an accident. Out on a river and the boat capsized or something, I don’t remember exactly what it was. Both of them and Domino ended up on the street roughly around the same time, by sheer coincidence.”

He exhaled loudly. “And then there was me. Dunno where I am in that little timeline, but Domino wasn’t that wrong about me getting lucky. That florist you saw me with a while ago, he and I go way back. A family friend, before…you know. He couldn’t take me in, but he gave me work where he could. Taught me a trade skill, paid me, gave me food. Gave me enough food that I could give others food. If I didn’t have him…”

Harper trailed off for a moment, clearing his throat. “I met a few of the kids before I met Domino. We all started kinda grouping up in one part of the city over and over. We met up a few times a day. Eventually, we just started sleeping there together. Safety in numbers kind of thing, kept us from going missing or waking up with everything we owned gone. Kept us waking up at all. We got tents, eventually, but it took longer than you’d think. It just grew from there, and now here we are.”

He laughed, an ironic sound devoid of joy. “Domino actually stole from here. That’s how we met him the first time. Kicked his ass that day, and he barely fought back. Almost felt bad about it. Taught him how to fight later.”

“Honestly suspected as much,” Octavia said. “The way you two fought looked the same.”

“I just don’t want him to go down this hole of…not caring about other people. Their lives, their safety, doing whatever it takes to scrape by at the cost of screwing others out of doing the same. Is that so ‘evil’ of me?”

Octavia shook her head, her braids ruffling against the pillow. “I don’t think it’s evil at all. I don’t think you’re a bad person in any capacity. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I think he’ll see that one day. You’ve gone through way too much for anyone to make you feel like that, and I’m sorry you’re having to go through this on top of…everything.”

Harper closed his eyes slowly. “Thank you.”

“I mean, plus the weird people apparently sneaking around this place at random, can’t forget that. Domino, the tolls, Maestro stuff, Orleanna, me dragging you into this whole mess, all of it.”

With his eyes shut, he smirked. “Some of it’s fun.”

“And that’s…on top of the stuff with your parents. For all of that, I’m sorry.”

Harper shook his head. “It’s okay, really. It means a lot to me that you care, though.”

She sighed, fidgeting with the edge of her blanket. “And I’m…Harper?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m…sorry about your sister.”

His eyes popped open. “What?”

Octavia winced. “I know I probably shouldn’t have seen it, and it’s not really my business, but it was in your tolls, and I--”

“No, seriously, what?” Harper asked again, quickly rolling onto his side. He propped himself up on one elbow, peering up at Octavia with absolute befuddlement.

She blinked. “Your…sister? She was your sister, right? Was she, like, a different relative? I’m sorry if I’m wrong, I’m just guessing based on what I saw.”

“My…sister?”

“It was at the…your…parents’ memories?” Octavia offered nervously. This was becoming incredibly awkward.

For a moment, he was quiet, staring at her blankly. Harper scoffed. Then, he grinned. He chuckled. He laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed so hard that Octavia thought he might throw up. Tears poked at the edges of his eyes, and he curled up into a ball against the floor, arms wrapped around his stomach. She blushed in fervent embarrassment, apparently incorrect.

“Oh my God,” he finally said in the midst of hysterics, “that’s how you took it?”

Octavia winced in silence, her cheeks splashed with red.

At last, he settled down somewhat, rubbing away his stray tears. “God, you’re so cute.”

Now she was really red.

Harper took several deep breaths, the same residual smile still glued to his lips as he averted his eyes. “I never had a sister, but my parents had a daughter. That daughter…grew up to be someone else. Does that make sense?”

Octavia shook her head. Harper tilted his own.

“I don’t…hate her. She was a different child with a different name, but she was the only child they ever had. And I know they’re gone, but…I just…”

His gaze, even cast far away from her own towards the floor, still shimmered in a way that didn’t escape her. “I hope they can be proud of the son that child grew up to be, wherever they are.”

Octavia’s own eyes widened in just the slightest. Still, she returned his smile not long after. “I have no doubt about it. Wherever they are, I know they love their son to pieces.”

Harper raised his eyes to hers at last, entrusting their shine to Octavia. “And I’m…still the same Harper I’ve always been. Right?”

Octavia laughed. “You’re still the exact same bad-decision-maker you were ten minutes ago. And you’re an idiot if you think anything’s gonna change that.”

He returned a soft chuckle, the glistening in his eyes ceaseless as he gazed at her with warmth unspoken. “Like I said, you’re supposed to be the smart one between the two of us.”

In the past several weeks, she’d been forced to don far too many masks, roles, shoes, and eyes--be they of the Ambassador, a leader, a stranger, or otherwise. By comparison, doing what she could to preserve fleeting joy was a responsibility she could handle. Octavia preferred it, much the same as she preferred Harper’s smile over his tears. That, too, she’d fight to preserve, for all he’d seen and suffered through.

Whether or not her decisions were as good as she could claim remained to be seen, given that her record very much spoke to the opposite. For now, indulging in his company was the best decision she could’ve made. In every conceivable way, he deserved to be happy.

One hour of reflection was enough. They opted for shifts. Bi-hourly intermissions were deemed sufficient, with one at rest while the other secured the night. Whether or not the light of day saw a heightened risk was irrelevant. Domino could hardly offer more than a timeframe, motives and suspected identities beyond him. In tandem, the Maestros harbored little certainty of anything anymore. Harper volunteered to keep watch first, Royal Orleans in hand beneath flickering starlight. Octavia earned her precious hours of sleep within the warmth of the tent. Crisis or not, she slept peacefully. She slept too peacefully, really.

When he finally awakened her, softly rustling her shoulders in the most weary hours of the morning, she stirred to find him almost asleep on his feet. Octavia rubbed her eyes as she sat up, blinking away what fatigue she could. Two hours had done her far better than expected, in truth.

“My turn?” she murmured groggily.

Harper nodded in silence.

“You look exhausted. You alright?”

He did what he could to stifle a yawn. “Tried to let you get a bit more sleep. Did you get to rest okay?”

Octavia frowned. “How long have you been out there?”

“Five hours.”

“Did you forget how to count? Do you know what the number ‘two’ means?” she muttered, swiping his Harmonial Instrument out of his hands. She surrendered the cot in an instant, and he didn’t resist when she shoved him onto it instead.

“Bed. Now.”

Harper pulled the warm blanket up to his chin without protest. “You gonna be okay by yourself?”

With or without his concern, Octavia unzipped Stradivaria’s case. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, you just focus on getting some rest. God knows you need it more than I do.”

He gave her a sleepy smile, closing his eyes. “Be careful. I didn’t see anything, but wake me up if anything happens, please.”

With only one soft sound of affirmation, Octavia took both halves of the violin into her hands. She tugged the heels of her boots firmly into place with a free finger. “Got it.”

Octavia didn’t give him any more opportunities to do anything but sleep, sneaking out of the tent as quietly as possible. Exhausted as Harper was, he was more than lucky to have stayed out of trouble. He could’ve gotten seriously injured. It wouldn’t have been the first time in the past day--or even the second, technically.

The rush of night air against her skin, in contrast to the warm comfort of Harper’s tent, was initially chilling and unwelcome. Still, after a moment, it settled into something refreshing, a gentle companion amongst deserted gravel. Fires that had once stoked hot meals and warmed cold hands had largely flickered and died, clumps of wood and stone seared to cinders. It was only the stars that illuminated the darkened night for her, for how the glow of the city proper was far too distant.

With every child asleep, true company was out of the question. That was a good thing, given whatever hypothetical crossfire was a possibility in the depths of the evening. Ideally, they’d sleep through it. She didn’t want a single one involved.

She cast her eyes skyward. The moon had begun to dull and descend, somewhat. Morning wasn’t far off. Octavia silently cursed Harper for his sacrificial commitment. She had, at most, slightly more than an hour before peeking dawn would try to chase the stars away. Granted, that timeframe matched more closely with Domino’s descriptions.

She settled on circles. Octavia rounded the perimeter of the camp on every side for long enough that she lost track of time. The haphazard settlement wasn’t enclosed, although it was surely difficult to stumble upon. She doubted the average stranger could find their way here--without the guidance of a certain flower boy, she would’ve been no exception. Their faceless interlopers, then, were far from average.

She traced quiet steps around fencing that divided gravel from grassy fields. She recalled the vague path to the adjacent construction site, should she amble slightly further to the right. She spent the most time slowing her cautious movements before the shadow-clad alleyway, each twist and turn cloaked in darkness. One of the three was compromised. She wasn’t sure which, and she didn’t stop in front of any of them long enough to find out. She kept to her steady rotations.

This is kind of creepy.

Are you afraid?

Stradivaria’s voice within was calming, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Company was company, aloud or not. Maybe ‘afraid’ isn’t the right word. Just…unsettled. Guess this beats tolls, at least.

You have done marvelously thus far. Know this to be true.

Even tense as she was, an uneasy smile crossed her lips. Thanks, I guess. I mean, there’s more of them now, right? Domino, for one, but Etherion, finally. That’s…a lot, between the two of them.

And yet more at your leisure, remember such.

She winced. I…don’t want to do those yet. Please.

He paused for a moment. As you wish.

She almost wanted to apologize to him for her cowardice. For how many times she’d rejected the same tolls, Octavia wondered if it was disrespectful. She prayed he’d understand her sincerity. She still hadn’t fully processed the idea of witnessing those two lives at all. At this rate, she wondered if she ever would.

Clang.

It was so soft and distant that Octavia almost missed it, lost in thought as she was. She snapped her head so quickly in the direction of the sound that her neck ached. Her eyes darted around the vicinity, and she found no culprit of the sudden noise. It took effort to suppress her instincts to flee. She traded them for movement. Cautious footsteps fell forward, and a violin rose to her shoulder. At the very least, one of those was a reflex.

She was on the right side of the camp, her circling steps bringing her near to lush greenery once more. The sound was on the left, by comparison, long since faded either way. She had little visibility more than roughly ten feet ahead of her, marred by the veil of the evening. A violin would resolve her problem immediately, although she’d be trading stealth for a bright song. It was to say nothing of waking up the entire camp.

Relying on her poorly-dilated pupils was annoying, by comparison. Of the area she could trace the fleeting noise to, she vaguely remembered Louise’s tent. She wondered if the girl had awoken, somewhere in the middle of the auditory surprise.

It took effort not to trip on the way there, tangled in darkness as she was. She made it to the little triangle of gray eventually, still safely sealed off from the outside world. Octavia didn’t dare disturb its singular inhabitant--resting comfortably, if silence was an indicator. Her inspection did little to alleviate her concerns, and she wondered if she’d trailed in the wrong direction entirely.

She stepped in something wet. The slosh of liquid against her boots wasn’t quite so abundant as to warrant the label of “puddle”, and yet still enough that the sensation against the leather made Octavia recoil. Glancing down revealed little, an indiscriminate stream of fluid trickling along the gravel. It moved slowly, pushed onward by the short-lived gravity of uneven ground.

With her eyes, Octavia followed the scattering paths as they flowed, branching along the tiny pebbles. One crawled upwards, soaking into the canvas of Louise’s tent. What poor fabric scratched against the ground had succumbed to absorbency, and the liquid lazily climbed ever higher. It had spilled from inside, maybe.

Curling one arm around Stradivaria’s body and bow, Octavia wriggled one of her sleeves slightly above her wrist. With hesitation, she extended two fingers in the direction of the wet gravel. Up close, she flinched. The smell was pungent, a sweet and oily scent that stung in the slightest. It was almost familiar. She couldn’t place it, and that much was irritating.

Clang.

Octavia never made contact with the fluid, her hand still extended aloft. She jumped sharply at the sudden noise, far louder and far closer. This time, the orientation was unmistakable. She was on her feet in an instant, her boots briefly skidding against the wet gravel as she scrambled for her footing. With Stradivaria’s body in one hand and the bow clasped tightly in the other, she sprinted in the general direction of the alleyway. Night be damned, she grasped for what little bearings she had in the darkness.

The sound was almost identical, if not somewhat metallic. The entrance to the winding corridors of the alley was once more bathed in shadow, creeping darkness threatening to swallow her at every turn. To plunge into the darkness would inevitably leave her lost. Were she to charge forth, she’d be sickeningly vulnerable in unfamiliar territory. Were she to stay behind, she’d be surrendering the closest opportunity she’d earned for a true pursuit. She had no time to wake up Harper. She went with her instincts, and her instincts led her into the dark.

Octavia didn’t run so much as she jogged, her steps quick and quiet around the curling depths of the back alleys. This was already disorienting enough during the day. At night, the urban maze was far, far more intimidating. If Harper were in her place at the moment, this would’ve been handled by now. She made a mental note to learn the proper routing in here, at some point. Instead, as it was, she was left to guess as she fumbled around in the dark. She strained for whatever sounds she could find, whether or not they were the same as those she’d heard before. Silence was terrifying.

She struck a deal with herself. Playing was out of the question, and yet her risk of stumbling or cornering herself in the dim lighting was growing too severe. She gathered Stradivaria’s bow beneath his body, one hand delicately cupping the underside of the violin. Raising the mahogany to her shoulders, she lifted shaking fingers to the bridge, plucking away cautiously and quietly at the strings. To her immense surprise, it worked.

She’d never tried this method before. The pinpricks of light that skittered from her fingertips left radiant debris peppering the air. Her scattering stardust wasn’t nearly as brilliant as her luminous ribbons or her entourage of scorching stars, and the assistance of a bow would’ve outdone her pitiful plucks tenfold. Still, her gentle touch sufficed, and flickering debris graced her way.

Had she not known better, she’d fear a breeze would steal each miniscule mote away. Ultimately, their soft, yellowing luminosity was more important than their presentation, and Octavia’s desperately-dilating pupils found something to cling to. She could only pray she was being quiet enough.

Regardless, having light at her literal fingertips did little to restore her bearings. She was once again burdened with navigational distress, thick walls suffocating her with each intersection she reached. For how much she’d desired companionship before, the idea of company in here was deeply distressing. For the sake of her safety and sanity alike, she needed to get what she came for and leave as soon as possible. Her eyes darted around every corner, and she spared time to peer over her shoulder out of paranoia.

Could you, like, watch my back for me?

As I am now, I can only see that which you can. However, know that I am with you.

She groaned. Stradivaria’s words were only partially comforting, for once.

Any advice? she asked, her nervous eyes still scanning each inch of cold ground.

Be on your guard. That is all I may offer.

That’s not very helpful.

Whatever retort he could’ve offered, positive or negative, never came. She initially believed the shadow she’d spotted to be a trick of the light--what little she maintained, at least. The window she had to double-check was a bit longer than she’d anticipated. When she confirmed a silhouette, outlined and distant along the furthest wall, her feet didn’t wait. If it weren’t for cursed corners that required her to turn with caution, she was confident a full sprint would’ve sufficed to close the gap. Still, obstacles or not, she had to try. Surprise meant nothing if she had little to pursue.

The visage, veiled in shadow, was vague. From afar, it was small, touched by petite femininity and streaming twintails. She couldn’t make out a face, although the shape spoke to the shadow she’d found upon entry yesterday. Granted, in the dark, her confidence was even weaker. The moment Octavia took flight, so, too, did her darkness-clad stranger. Octavia’s heavy footsteps echoed, and they stole whatever stealth she could’ve clung to. No amount of “stop” or “come back” would’ve been worth it. She put her efforts into maintaining her breath instead.

Plucking the strings while she ran wasn’t feasible. Sprinting as she was, by comparison, a proper song was an option. It was perilous to play while running, and yet she took her chances anyway. Octavia angled Stradivaria unconventionally against her lower shoulder, forsaking her chin altogether. With the violin cradled in the crook of her arm, she did what she could to tear the bow horizontally.

Haphazard as her technique was, it sufficed, beams of radiance bursting to life with stylish violence as they outran her. Spurned rapidly onwards by what steady movements of the bow were possible, the volley gave chase of its own accord. Octavia still hadn’t quite learned how to steer them in mid-air. For now, she could at least be proud of the way by which her light could curve with precision. Practicing in here didn’t seem like a terrible idea--beneath the sunshine, ideally.

Given the speed at which they eluded her, there was no way to track their trajectory. So, too, was she ignorant as to whether or not they’d hit their mark. She could hear explosive bursts of impact as they rattled the rocky walls and ground below. From here, glowing auras bled around corners she hadn’t yet turned. It took additional effort just to confirm she was still in proper pursuit, and her only confirmation was auditory.

She earned the clang of metal, just as before. Granted, it came far louder and significantly more hollow. Footsteps not so unlike her own, heavy and frantic in their own right, drew nearer. Octavia was positive she heard panting, desperate and exhausted. That, too, was foreign, her own breath steady and measured. She could run forever.

Octavia had no idea where she was. It didn’t matter. She had a shadow in her sights, not immune to the widespread glow of the rays upon her shoulders. Time was on her side, the turning of day fresh underway as the stars slowly dipped from the sky. Morning inched ever closer, and with it, the veil of night was torn free. Twintails, parallel and symmetrical. Of that, she’d been correct. Blonde. Small, petite. Again, correct. Delicate, effeminate clothing that spoke to deceptive innocence.

“Leave me alone!”

A shrill, high-pitched voice that Octavia could’ve sworn she’d heard at least once.

“Who are you?” she shouted anyway, her better judgment tossed in the wake of her footsteps.

“Get away from me!”

“What do you want from us?” Octavia pressed, undeterred.

She was gaining. Her song was at the ready. If she so desired, she could take them out right here and now. She opted to hold back her light.

They turned a corner in tandem. The girl before her spread her arms, a frantic touch capturing towers of garbage with malicious intent. Flailing served her well, and Octavia almost stumbled in the face of the waste downpour. Still, the initial surprise was all that shook her. Octavia kicked as hard off the earth as was necessary, propelling well over every obstacle that crashed down around her feet. Each haphazardly-spilled box, bag, and bucket failed to trip her up.

It didn’t matter how many buckets. There were a lot of buckets, really. Every last one rolled to a noisy halt against the opposing wall with a respective clang, piling into a hollow cacophony of metallic chaos.

Oh.

Still, it made her raise an eyebrow.

“We weren’t actually gonna do it!” the girl cried. Her stamina was gradually failing her, and it showed.

Octavia had no idea what she was talking about. “Stop where you are!”

“I said leave me alone, please!”

Octavia vaguely entertained the idea of adding a threat. With one swift jerk of the bow across the strings, she intentionally missed. A single precious ray, perched so precariously above her shoulder in wait moments ago, careened forward. Its path was unhindered, and it crashed into the wall just above the girl’s right arm. As expected, she shrieked, covering her head as fragments of masonry crumbled to the ground.

“One last chance! Turn and face me!” Octavia growled.

She almost obliged. Octavia watched the way the girl began to turn, parting hair slowly giving way to fair features. All too soon, her head snapped forward once more. The peeking light of day approached rapidly in excess, abundant and spilling at her front. Octavia came to two possible conclusions--either they’d made a full circle, or they’d reached Coda proper.

The latter came with an extreme problem. Her fleeing stranger could easily slip away into the city, and Octavia would be hard-pressed to make the same pursuit twice. In that case, she was left to pray for the former. She didn’t dare shelve her light. Even now, the dangerous radiance of her song still awaited guidance mere inches from her skin.

She was lucky. It was, in fact, the former. It didn’t make the scene any less confusing.

The girl screeched to a halt so quickly that Octavia didn’t think to restrain her--physically or otherwise. Logically, she was confined by the encirclement of tents and the inhabitants who’d bear witness to her crimes. If necessary, Octavia had dozens of prying eyes to back her up. Were it not for the second girl, one ponytail shorter than her counterpart, her work would’ve been over far sooner. As it was, instead, the bucket was far more befuddling.

The other one was somewhat more reserved than the frantic blonde who preceded her, motionless just feet from the entrance. Two slender hands were wrapped around the handle of a well-used metal bucket, dented and beaten accordingly. It was just large enough to tap against scuffed knees and jut into a fraying skirt, sloshing with each tiny movement. It looked heavy. It smelled strongly. Octavia blinked.

For a moment, the three girls exchanged stares in tense silence, trading wordless hostility. Octavia still claimed the pressure of her radiance, sneaking starlight pulsing on either side of her head. She couldn’t choose where to start--“who are you”, “what are you doing”, or anything in between were all viable options. She was conflicted enough that she forgot to choose at all, only glaring daggers twofold amongst the girls.

The clouds, while not quite freed from the touch of night, were slowly beginning to blush. With it came the first natural rays of light to contrast against her own. Every speckle of peeking sunshine caught the droplets of dew that pricked the ground and gravel below. There was a lot of dew, evidently. If she looked, ample amounts of gravel spanning the length of the camp were saturated and sparkling. In awkwardly-traced patterns and patches, something lay splashed beneath. It hadn’t rained recently. To Octavia’s knowledge, there was no adjacent groundwater well near the camp. She stared.

Her eyes chased every last sparkle she could find, extensive as it was. It was more dispersed than she’d expected, on a second inspection. The edges of almost every tent resembled Louise’s own--soaked and soggy along hems that kissed the gravel. It wasn’t quite wet enough underfoot to breach her soles. The overpowering scent on every side was enough to breach the rest of her, and she resisted the urge to flinch.

In turn, her eyes finally crawled to the bucket. She raised Stradivaria to her shoulder properly.

“What is that?” Octavia shouted.

Her prior prey jumped in surprise at the sudden volume of her voice. By comparison, the girl with the bucket remained calm. Rather than dignify her with a response, she flipped the entire container upside-down, splattering its liquid contents onto the gravel at her feet. The splash peppered her flats with much the same. If she cared, she didn’t show it. With a dramatic flair, she freed the bucket from dainty fingers, pulling her hands apart as it violently clattered to the gravel.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said. Her voice, while not quite as shrill, was its own flavor of high-pitched. “We’re done here.”

“Are we…actually doing this?” the twintailed girl whispered sharply, wringing her hands together.

“Octavia!”

The clash of metal against gravel had apparently been enough to wake Harper. The flaps of his tent parted rapidly, and the sound of shoes crunching against pebbles preceded Octavia’s backup. She felt really, really bad for waking him up. She felt worse for disturbing him than for inviting him to the current crisis at all.

He skidded against the gravel, pressing his cap to his head firmly. It was a miracle that he didn’t slip, saturated as it was. With one hand around Royal Orleans, he was only several steps from her side when he came to a complete and total halt.

His mouth parted, and yet he was devoid of words. He flexed his fingers around his instrument, alternating between a relaxed grip and the whitest knuckles Octavia had ever seen grace his skin. Unceremoniously indoctrinated into their square of malice, he fit his tense role admirably. Either girl eyed him with far, far more hostility than what had been offered to Octavia. She gulped.

“What,” Harper began, his entire body shaking, “are you doing here?”

“Ivy, forget it, let’s go,” the fleeing girl pleaded, wrapping two hands around the calm girl’s arm. “This is enough, right?”

“Answer me,” he growled. Rage was pooling in every word, and Octavia watched as his face almost grew red to match.

The quiet girl only tilted her head, unfazed by his harsh words. “I’m sorry, were we not invited?”

“Harper?” Octavia asked softly, Stradivaria readied upon her shoulder.

He gave an empty chuckle, his eyes just as empty in turn. “I’m almost afraid to ask the details. And here I thought Domino was talking about an actual threat.”

The girl returned his hollow glare. “I’m open to delivering on one. Watch your step.”

It took a moment. When it clicked, it still made no more sense. “Holly…and Ivy?” Octavia finally tried, exceedingly confused.

Harper nodded, never tearing his wrathful gaze from either one. Octavia narrowed her eyes, much the same. Where this was going was beyond her.

“You two wouldn’t happen to know anything about whoever’s been threatening Domino, would you?” he spat.

Octavia vaguely remembered the difference. It was Ivy who scoffed. “No one’s threatening Domino, idiot.”

Harper shook his head. “You’re full of it. Someone’s been trying to hurt him. He’s with you two half the damn time when he’s not with me, even if he’s not supposed to be, so spill it.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Holly said with venom. “Talk whatever trash about us you want, but we don’t do a damn thing to him. That’s a low blow, even for you.”

“Then who's been trying to get into the freakin’ camp, huh? Who’s been trying to hurt him every time he beats them back?”

Holly’s eyes widened. “What?”

“There’s no way you two don’t know he’s in danger. He talks to you loud-mouths about everything. Someone's trying to hurt these kids, and he’s over here nearly killing himself to make sure they're safe. You’ve seriously got the nerve to pretend you don’t know? Start talking. What’s going on with him?”

Holly and Ivy exchanged a glance touched by confusion. There came a point where both of their faces fell, eyes widening ever further in unison. They winced, locking eyes and refusing to come unhinged.

Harper followed their silent surprise with his own gaze, audibly aggravated. “What? Say something!”

Ivy’s fingers curled into fists. “Are you kidding me? Is that why they all--”

“Ivy, shut up!” Holly hissed.

“Well, it’s true! That little brat!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Harper growled.

“If that’s the case, we need to go!” Holly pleaded once more, pulling on her sister’s arm for a second time.

Ivy didn’t budge. “We’re already in this deep. We need to deliver.”

“Talk!” Harper shouted, his voice booming. Octavia jolted at his side. If anyone was still asleep, she doubted they’d be for long.

Holly was silent, her face brimming with horror. Ivy, conversely, obliged, one hand on her hip.

“You really wanna know that bad? He screwed over both of us, apparently, so take that with you to sleep tonight. Someone really, really wants this place gone. We knew that he knew. We thought he was helping. Isn’t that why you were gone? He said he sent you away.”

Harper blinked. “I…what?”

“And someone’s willing to pay a lot of money to make sure the job gets done. Like, I mean, a lot. Probably more money than you’ve ever seen in your broke little life. Hell, ours too. So why the hell would he sabotage that? I just don’t understand.”

For the briefest moment, Harper’s eyes flickered to Octavia. “I don’t…what is all this? Who are you talking about? Who wants this place gone? You mean the camp? For what?”

Ivy shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care. They have money, that’s all that matters. Couldn’t figure out why it was taking so damn long, though. Worked out, I guess. Someone else got the chance instead. Tell you one thing, though, they were very specific about how they wanted it gone.”

“Domino wouldn’t do that,” Harper spat, his breath quickening. “He wouldn’t…hurt these kids.”

Ivy scoffed once more. “Apparently not, little coward.”

“Ivy, please, isn’t this too much? They’re just kids!” Holly begged. “They’re still here! At least wait until they’re gone!”

“If they’re gonna leave, they better do it now,” she snapped. “All they specified was the property. That being said, I wouldn’t mind if Harper sticks around, if you know what I mean.”

Harper raised Royal Orleans to his lips at last. “You’re not gonna put one finger on my family.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “A trumpet? Seriously? You gonna play us to death, idiot? Now you’ve really lost it.”

“Don’t play!”

Octavia’s shout was enough to make Harper freeze, his hands utterly still with the mouthpiece still pressed to his lips. Ever so slowly, he pulled away from the brass, turning his head in her direction.

She, too, was still, her thoughts racing as rapidly as her heart. Her cry had shocked Holly and Ivy into equal stagnation. She didn’t care. Her eyes flickered back and forth between Harper’s own and the gravel below. Everything clicked.

“Gasoline,” she said at last, her voice shaking.

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“All of it,” she added, every word soaked in terror.

It took far longer than she would’ve hoped to finally place the smell, given how often she’d been forced to tolerate it in her father’s workshop. More terrifyingly came the implication that the substance had been spread at all, her patrolling rendered useless. She’d heard the sounds that precluded the splashing chemical, metallic and distant as they’d been.

Someone had been behind her, stepping in her shadows and treading on her footsteps. As to how long, Octavia didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to consider. If she’d stayed behind, she wondered if it would’ve gotten so severe. As it was, there was nothing left to do but kick herself forever.

“How did…” Harper began, trailing off almost immediately.

His eyes drifted to Royal Orleans. He drew the same conclusion, if the shock on his face spoke to anything. It wouldn’t take the full strength of his song. One note would be all he needed to set the camp ablaze. For how close they still stood to an overturned bucket, still idling in the gravel, a singular breath could very well kill them both.

“You wouldn’t,” Harper said instead, his eyes pooling with fear.

“How do you know?” Ivy answered coolly.

“Ivy, listen to me!” Holly begged. “You said it was a threat!”

Ivy snatched her arm away from her sister’s constant pulling, sending the girl stumbling in reverse. “If we don’t do it, someone else will! What then? There won’t have been any point to all of it! This is finally it, and now you want to back out?”

“They’re just kids!” Holly cried yet again.

“We’re just kids!” Ivy answered. “What about us?”

“Octavia,” Harper said, his anxious voice rising dangerously high.

Octavia could hear her own blood rushing through her ears. Of her light, she’d never stopped to contemplate the composition--let alone the temperature. It could burn skin, and she’d learned that the hard way. With certainty, it was hot. Whether or not it could rival Harper’s flames remained to be seen. If she played, there was a possibility that she, too, would be putting lives at risk. It was a gamble she was terrified to take, and her hand shook around the bow.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Holly whimpered. “There’s other ways! Even with this, there’s definitely a different answer to--”

“No there isn’t!” Ivy screamed, her voice cracking. “You sound like him!”

When she pointed one finger sharply at Harper, the boy in question could only flinch. Still, her attention was on Holly alone. Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes as she shouted.

“We’re never going to get a chance like this again! You wanna talk about Domino? This is how we help Domino! This is how we help ourselves and whoever the hell we want! This is how we survive, and this is how we thrive!”

Harper shook his head, his voice hoarse. “Please, you don’t need to do this.”

The glare Ivy gave him dripped with the intent to kill, livid in a way that sent chills down Octavia’s spine. Slowly, she slid one hand into the pocket of her skirt. When her fingers came up, they carried the smallest of boxes, cardboard settling neatly into the palm of her hand.

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.”

She flicked her thumb upwards. With the motion slipped the contents of the tiny box itself, unleashed from the safety of their drawer. The sight alone left Octavia dizzy.

She was dizzier than she’d expected to be, terrified as she was. She chalked it up to fear, at first, overwhelming and all consuming in every way. Still, logically, fear didn’t come with screeching that left her eardrums crying out in pain. Fear wouldn’t account for violet, wretched and deep as curling wisps streamed from Ivy’s shoulders. Octavia’s stomach twisted into knots, her blood ran cold, and the revelation of tiny hands parting canvas flaps around her threatened to steal her breath.

She’d never seen it actually happening before--not from a third-person perspective, at least.

“You,” Ivy growled, “have no idea what it’s like to walk a day in our shoes. You’ve had luck, and you’ve been blessed. You have no idea what we’ve seen. You have no idea what I’ve been through. You don’t have the slightest idea of the danger we’re in every single...”

“Whatever you’re thinking about, stop it!” Octavia pleaded. “Stop thinking about it! Don’t remember it, please!”

She couldn’t prove her theory. Regardless, everything she’d learned of Dissonance had led her to that hypothesis. Her own harrowing experience, sand-tinged and ethereal as it was, spoke to much of the same. Bad memories were bad memories. Foul as she was, her heart ached for Ivy. She didn’t dare guess what was in there, nor what was that bad. If it led this far, it was surely undeserved. As with so many things, all she could do was pray.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me!” Ivy cried. With zero hesitation, her fingers plunged into the matchbox.

Holly grabbed at her skirt. “Ivy, stop it!”

“I won’t let you!” Harper shouted. It was an empty threat, loaded only with terror as he stayed perfectly still.

“I’ll take everything you love!” Ivy screamed.

Her eyes were hollow and dead. One swift flick of her wrist set the match alight. Violet outdid orange, rolling as both were in tandem. A humble, wavering flame was matched only by thick plumes of smoke, billowing from the girl’s shoulders in earnest.

It was a lot more than Octavia had expected.

“Ivy, don’t!”

Holly’s words were useless, as were her tears. Distracted by the incredible abundance of Dissonance, Octavia was almost too late. She tackled Harper to the ground and out of the path of glistening gravel. She had no time to breathe, and everything crumbled in an instant. Their bodies collided, the matchstick slipped from Ivy’s fingers, and Harper’s entire world went up in flames.