Harmony

Viola was most definitely the stronger orator between the two of them, articulate and composed in a way that left every question succinct. She would’ve been the better person to entrust with unraveling the situation via carefully-crafted queries versus the rapid, to-the-point questions Octavia could just barely muster. When the Maestra faltered spectacularly, practically staring with eyes so wide that the moon above could outright damage her pupils, Octavia didn’t have a choice. Their savior took it well enough.

“You saved him,” Octavia stated plainly, somewhere between amazement and absolute confusion.

“Yup!”

“You saved us.”

“Yup!”

“You’re...did I seriously hear you call it ‘magic’?”

“Yup!”

“You’re the waitress.”

“Yup!”

“And you’re...what was that thing about liberating?”

The girl beamed. “Just something that heroines say when they’re saving the day.”

“A...heroine,” Viola repeated hesitantly, her voice returning at last. “And that means...what, exactly?”

The girl didn’t so much as flinch. Her overly-dramatic pose had returned for a second round, split fingers rushing to one eye in a victorious V. Her brilliant smile battled the moon above fiercely. “Lyra and I are a team that fights the forces of darkness together, wherever they might strike! We’re keeping Minuevera safe!”

Octavia stifled a giggle. “Forces of...darkness?”

Her radiant smile was unwavering. “The foggy stuff, silly!”

“Dissonance,” Viola corrected bluntly. “Not ‘foggy stuff’. Who’s Lyra, anyway?”

The girl thrust the harp immediately before her with such speed and force that Viola jumped slightly. “Tada! Meet Lyra’s Repose, my partner in crime-fighting. We’re inseparable!”

It was Octavia’s turn to smile, softer as it was by comparison. “Your Harmonial Instrument, right? What did you say your name was, again?”

She was practically sparkling as she bowed dramatically. “The Magical Madrigal Talludo, at your service! The greatest hospitality in Minuevera by day, and the silent protector of the town by night!”

Viola had ended up with one hand clasped over her mouth in a desperate attempt to stem her own giggles. “I do vaguely remember the inn being called Talludo, or something along those lines,” she offered.

Octavia’s efforts to suppress her own laughter were rapidly faltering, just the same. “M-Madrigal, right, now I remember.”

The girl’s endless smile persisted, ignorant to the Maestras’ struggle. “I really didn’t expect to see other soldiers of the light around here! I saw your battle from the hill--you guys were amazing! I think we’d make a spectacular team!”

“Amazing” was debatable, and more than enough to leave Octavia wincing. She’d hardly managed to push through at all. Had Viola not intervened when she did, she retrospectively feared the worst. It was more than enough for her heart to sink into her stomach, and she flexed her once-burning fingers absentmindedly. It was still a sensation she hadn’t fully grown used to, already long since faded.

“I don’t know if we’re quite as good as you think we are,” Octavia confessed. “You clearly know your way around your Harmonial Instrument more than we do.”

“And they’re called Maestras,” Viola corrected yet again, raising her flute for emphasis. “Harmonial Instruments. Dissonance. Maestras. Maestros. No one ever taught you any of this stuff, and you’re still that skilled?”

Octavia smirked. “I mean, I never knew any of it until you taught me, to be fair.”

Viola faltered, clearing her throat. “A-Anyway, we’d like to formally thank you for saving us, and for saving that man. We were in a bit of a...difficult situation, and the help was definitely welcome. You have our gratitude.”

Madrigal hardly seemed to process her words. Instead, her eyes positively sparkled the moment they met the flute. “Wow, it’s so shiny! That’s your partner, right? It’s nice to meet you, Viola’s partner! I hope you and Lyra get along wonderfully!”

Her smile was infectious, and Viola reciprocated the same with or without intent. “This is Silver Brevada. We’ve been through a lot together.”

Octavia offered up her violin in turn. “This is Stradivaria. We’ve…sorta just met, but I think we’re getting along pretty well.”

The girl was more or less vibrating, her limitless energy almost radiating into the open air. She bounced on the tips of her toes excitedly, the stars clinging to her eyes somehow twinkling ever brighter. “Silver Brevada, Stradivaria, it’s so nice to meet you both! I can’t wait to get to know the two of you better--and both of your masters, too!”

“Maestras,” Viola corrected once more.

The bag the harp called home was splendidly woven, hugging the girl’s side lovingly. Every little string was gorgeously colored and every knot was carefully crafted. For as secure as Stradivaria surely was in its own case, the girl had more than spoiled her instrument. Octavia stared at the glistening harp as it slid snugly into its depths and out of view.

Madrigal caught her eyes with pride. “I made it myself,” she offered happily. “I hope Lyra likes it in there.”

“And…what are we supposed to do about him?”

Octavia had somewhat forgotten about the man they’d so viciously dealt with moments before, borderline conscious in the grass with only the slightest of groans to show for it. Her stomach lurched. “We can’t exactly just…leave him here,” Viola went on.

Madrigal didn’t miss a beat, nor did her smile bend. “That’s easy.”

It was a spacious enough bag, given that she’d managed to somehow fit an entire bottle of alcohol in there. It took an extra moment of inspection to at least verify its vacancy, although it hardly would’ve mattered. As to why the girl was carrying around the pungent glass, Octavia didn’t want to know.

The moment it was launched aloft in her direction, she nearly stumbled to receive it. With the bottle cradled in both palms, she eyed Madrigal with incredible confusion. It took another several seconds for it to click, her eyes flickering back and forth between the splayed-out man and the glass.

“You seriously think he’s gonna fall for that?” Octavia muttered, somewhere on the border of skeptical astonishment and genuine curiosity.

“It’s never not worked before,” Madrigal responded nonchalantly. “Set it down next to him, and we’re all good! He’ll be fine in a little while. He might just be a bit confused.”

Octavia obliged hesitantly, settling the empty bottle beside the man carefully. It didn’t feel like a particularly ethical solution. Leaving him there was worse. To be fair, killing him wouldn’t have been a spectacular solution, either.

She’d forgotten about that part. Her stomach lurched.

Viola was at her side before the thought could swallow her whole, one hand upon her shoulder more than enough to startle her. Wordlessly, Viola shook her head. It was another hand that slipped into her own, squeezing gently. Her eyes were soft. Octavia feared the sentiment was mutual. Still, she said nothing.

Madrigal’s bliss left her ignorant to their silent and solemn exchange. Already, the girl’s hurried steps trailed towards the inn once more, her own vibrance and midnight sunshine contrasting starkly with the near-tragedy left in their wake.

“Come on! I’ll make you guys something to eat when we get back!” she called happily over her shoulder.

“We’ll pass, but thank you,” Viola called back. “We should probably go to bed soon!”

“Okaaay! Let me know if you change your mind!” Octavia heard somewhat distantly. She could’ve sworn Madrigal was descending the hill backwards. Part of her feared for the girl’s safety.

Most of her was preoccupied with the man still resting in the grass. She struggled to tear her eyes away from him. Each time she tried, they fell to him once more, and her heart skipped far too many beats in a row. She was aware of Viola’s firm grip still upon her twice over. It didn’t eradicate every ounce of dread that stung her soul.

“We almost killed him,” she whispered. “We almost killed a man, and we could’ve saved him.”

“She knows something we don’t,” Viola comforted, squeezing Octavia’s hand ever tighter. “She’s clearly more skilled than us, and her Harmonial Instrument is…different. We were doing what we could.”

“What we could do almost put blood on our hands, Viola,” she argued, her voice cracking. “We were almost murderers.”

“We weren’t almost murderers!” Viola cried, confiscating her hand from Octavia’s own. When it crashed down onto Octavia’s other shoulder, the girl nearly shook her. “Look at me! We didn’t do it because we wanted to, we did it because it was what we had to do! That man would’ve suffered in the most awful way, and he could’ve gone on to hurt other people if we hadn’t tried to do what we did!”

“How can you know that?” Octavia cried in return, hot tears spilling down her cheeks at last. “How can you be so sure there was no other option? How can we be positive it wouldn’t have passed, and he wouldn’t have been fine, and it wouldn’t have gone away on its own? How can you possibly know that killing a man was the right thing to do?”

“Because I’ve seen it happen before!”

Viola’s shout was more than enough to make Octavia jump. Through her blurred vision, veiled by tears as it was, she found Viola’s eyes glistening just as severely. Viola was silent. Octavia was, too. It took time for the former to shatter the stillness, soft as her words were.

“I’ve seen it happen before,” she repeated slowly. “And I don’t want to see it happen again.”

Octavia had battled not to pry up until now. Even where she stood, with the moonlight as her sole witness, she still resisted the singular question that had continued to bubble in her throat time after time. She inhaled. She exhaled. She liked to imagine Viola could trust her.

“What…happened?” she asked hesitantly.

Viola, too, took one deep breath, relaxing her fervent grip on Octavia’s shoulders. “When I was young, my father...this happened. He hurt people. I wasn’t a Maestra yet. I didn’t understand until my grandmother told me years later. At the time, I thought he just...did bad things because he wanted to.”

Viola averted her eyes as she swiped her own tears away, smearing her sorrow across her palm. “My grandmother was late. By the time she found him, he’d already done too much damage. He’d already hurt too many people. He’s serving a life sentence, and he doesn’t even remember what happened.”

She shuddered with the effort of choking back a sob. “If it was me, I…wonder if I could’ve saved him. Even so, I also spend every day wondering if I would’ve had to kill him. I’m just as grateful every day that my grandmother knew…how to fix it.”

She stepped away from Octavia, hugging herself tightly. “I want to be a Maestra who can protect other people, but I also…want to be a Maestra who can protect people from themselves. I don’t want anyone to ever go through that again--not the Dissonant person, not their families, and not the people they would’ve hurt. I want to protect everyone.”

It was Octavia’s turn to offer comfort, her own hand gently settling upon Viola’s shoulder in turn. “That’s very noble of you. I didn’t mean to pry so hard. I just…needed to know we were doing the right thing.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to figure out what the right thing is,” Viola murmured, laying her fingers to rest over Octavia’s own. “I don’t think I can tell anymore. I would’ve told you, eventually. I just didn’t know how.”

Octavia did her best to smile, difficult as it was. “Let’s go back to the inn. Are you still up to going to Coda tomorrow?”

Viola sniffled, tossing her eyes to the man in the grass one last time. “Yeah. I’m up to it. Maybe a little sleep first.”

“And maybe something to eat?” Octavia offered.

Viola’s half-hearted smile was much appreciated. “Yeah. If she’d still have us.”

In the wake of the chill just barely stinging Octavia’s blood, Madrigal’s vibrant warmth would be more than welcome. They would owe her twice over tonight.

Given the events of the prior evening, they’d opted to sleep slightly later than planned. It was to their detriment, somewhat, for how the high-rising summer sun had stolen precious hours of a more muted blaze. They’d traded sunrise in favor of rest, although the splendid hospitality of the Talludo Inn left nothing to be desired at breakfast. It was a worthwhile compromise. Traversing on foot in the sweltering heat once more wasn’t an enjoyable thought, regardless.

“You sure you’ll be okay walking for that long?” Octavia fretted, lacing up one boot carefully. “We’ll take as many breaks as you need.”

“I appreciate it,” Viola answered with a soft smile.

Her feeble reassurance didn’t conceal her reddening skin, nor the trace peeling that had begun to manifest on her neck. It was enough to make Octavia wince, her fair complexion growing more compromised by the hour. The coming days would surely not be kind to her.

“How long are we walking?” Octavia asked.

Viola slipped on her own shoes as she spoke, brushing away what dirt had grown packed tightly beneath. “Same thing I said yesterday. Minuevera and Coda are pretty close, and the walk should be just a little bit shorter than yesterday’s. Maybe about an hour or two less. Minuevera mostly exports agricultural stuff, and the trade route with the capital is well-traveled for obvious reasons.”

Octavia smirked. “Trust me, I figured out that they grow their own food pretty quick.”

“You mean from me?”

The Maestras jumped practically in unison, given the chipper voice that had interrupted from far too close. Viola nearly screamed. Octavia did.

“God, Madrigal! Don’t scare me like that,” she scolded, one hand darting to her racing heart involuntarily.

Madrigal had more or less squeezed her way between the two, bouncing on her heels happily. “I’m sorry! I’m just really excited to be traveling.”

Viola raised an eyebrow. “You’re…coming with us?”

Octavia noticed the way she’d left off the “we didn’t exactly invite you” portion. She at least wondered if the sentiment was mutual.

Madrigal smiled as brightly as ever. “I have to go that way anyway. I have some stuff I need to deliver to a shop in the capital.”

She patted the same little bag at her side for emphasis, the preciously-woven fibers that cradled her instrument once again making room for yet more accompanying items with a soft clink. If Octavia squinted, there were at least solidly-sized pockets. The harp had privacy, it seemed. It was a mild relief. For how dearly treasured the little instrument seemed to be, she chided herself for expecting any less out of Madrigal.

“Your parents let you go by yourself?” Viola asked, surprised.

Madrigal beamed proudly, her hands settling onto her hips. “I’ve made the trip a thousand times alone! I know my way back and forth to Coda like the back of my hand. You know, we actually make stuff with our own fruits that--”

“You grow in house, out back,” Octavia and Viola finished, more or less simultaneously.

“It could be handy having another person around,” Viola continued. “Safety in numbers.”

Octavia tilted her head. “Dissonance?”

“Thieves, actually,” Viola clarified, adjusting Silver Brevada’s case on her shoulder. “Any sizable trade routes between smaller towns and the capital are usually a lot more likely to see bandits ambushing anyone carrying stuff back and forth. It’s not a guarantee, but it’s always a risk.”

Octavia winced. “Are we in any danger going that way?”

“Not at all!” Madrigal assured. “We’re just three cute little girls making our way to the capital. We’ve got nothing worth stealing. It’s not like we’re actually merchants or anything!”

Octavia smirked. Magical violins and flutes weren’t exactly “nothing.”

“Did you say ‘cute little girls’?” Viola scoffed.

“Besides, we make a pretty powerful magical team! No one can stop us if we all fight together!” Madrigal continued, slipping into yet another dramatically-concocted pose. It was becoming routine.

“Dissonance and people are two completely different things,” Octavia spoke. “If someone came at us with weapons, we’d be in a lot more trouble. Wait, do Harmonial Instruments even work against normal people? Like...regularly?”

Her eyes flickered to Viola for confirmation. The Maestra shrugged. “You’d be surprised. They’re more so meant to deal with Dissonance. If you really wanted to mess someone up, though, you could do quite a bit of damage.”

Octavia winced. She’d gotten fairly close to such last night. “Fair enough. At least that’s one more layer of protection we’ve got.”

“Do you guys need anything before we go?” Madrigal asked, already more than halfway over the threshold. “Do you want me to get you anything? I can make something really quick if you--”

“We’re good, I promise,” Viola sighed. Octavia couldn’t stifle another smirk. This trip would possibly be longer than was geographically necessary.

The blasting sunshine was about as ruthless as she could’ve expected, and it barrelled down upon her the moment she’d stepped clear beneath the open sky in full. It was the least of her concerns, even if the cool reprieve of sunrise had escaped her. In surrendering dawn, she, too, had surrendered the awakening town. Minuevera in its lively glory was a far cry from the calm warmth she’d discovered at dusk.

She hadn’t exactly suspected she was being lied to about the town’s agricultural specialties. Still, the sheer amount of greenery displayed, transported, and prepared in abundance put every market she’d ever been to to shame. She hardly recognized a single word leaving a single stranger’s lips, dialects in dozens of flavors as varied as the fruits they handled with care. Minuevera, when awake, was a different world.

“Octavia.”

“R-Right, right, sorry!” she called back, fighting the blush that came with Viola’s teasing tone.

“You’re gonna lose your mind when you see the capital, at this rate,” Viola asserted with a smirk. “Imagine this times a hundred.”

“It’s that big?” Octavia asked with disbelief.

“Octaviaaaaa, Violaaaaa,” she heard instead, Madrigal’s voice painted in a far more enthusiastic tone--distant as it was. The girl was practically abandoning them, spurned forward by energy Octavia couldn’t hope to match this early in the day. The girl waved her arms above her head from afar. “Come ooooon!”

Octavia grinned at the Maestra to her right. “Race ya.”

“Absolutely not.”

The sun, in truth, wasn’t as terrible as she’d expected it to be--at least personally. She spent at least thirty minutes side-eyeing Viola repeatedly, scanning for whatever additional hints of sunburn might come to splatter the girl with splotchy souvenirs of midsummer travels. To her credit, Viola took the scalding weather well, the lack of interloping clouds be damned. Octavia more than respected the way by which the Maestra bit her tongue in the face of what was surely discomfort, regretful as it was. Even shortly after their departure, she’d offered rest. Viola had declined. Had she accepted, they likely would’ve lost their third Maestra companion almost immediately. With absolute certainty, they would not have forsaken her voice.

There was exactly one thing more eternal than Madrigal’s smile.

“So this guy tells me he doesn’t like strawberries, but he was talking about the ones from Coda, and he didn’t specify where he got them from, so I couldn’t tell what town they were actually imported from. I told him he’s never tried the ones from Minuevera, probably, and he says that they’re all the same and it doesn’t matter. They’re not all the same. I told him that, too. And you know what? I gave him some of ours, and I told him that if he hates them, I’ll never bother him again, and guess what? He actually loved them!”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t think people realize where their food comes from, sometimes. Everywhere is different. Plus, you can’t grow anything in the capital. There’s nowhere to plant stuff. I mean, maybe you could grow something really tiny inside, but that’s about it. It wouldn’t be enough to actually cook anything with.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean, it’s not like they don’t have food at all there. Otherwise, no one would be able to live there. They still have to import a bunch of fruits and vegetables and stuff, and you need food to make food, anyway. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Viola muttered.

Her subsequent glance to Octavia spoke of desperation. Octavia stifled a giggle and failed to suppress a smirk.

“So…how did you find your Harmonial Instrument?” Octavia redirected to the best of her ability.

If Madrigal took issue with the sudden change of topic, she didn’t show it. “Lyra? Well, Lyra and I met on the riverbed! I was washing vegetables by the river, and I found it washed up there. I felt a connection with it right away, and I learned Lyra’s name really fast! We’ve been inseparable ever since! How did you guys meet your partners?”

Viola smiled tenderly. “Family heirloom, I guess. Passed down from my grandmother.”

Octavia sighed. “Box.”

Madrigal cocked her head. “Box?”

“Box,” she repeated.

“She dreamt about a chest in the woods for a month and got so stressed she actually went to go look for it,” Viola clarified.

Somehow, scathingly blunt or not, it was a satisfactory answer for Madrigal. “Oh, I see. Box.”

“And…using your Harmonial Instrument? How did you learn how to do that?” Octavia asked. She bit her tongue regarding the Dissonant man specifically. She wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to dwell on that experience further, for now.

Madrigal clasped her hands behind her back happily, beaming as she ambled in reverse. “Lyra and I, our hearts have always been connected. I feel what Lyra feels, and the other way around, too. It all came so naturally! We have a perfect relationship. And so the first time I saw the forces of darkness--”

“Dissonance,” Viola corrected, exasperated.

“--it was like I already knew exactly what to do! Lyra and I fought side by side, and we won!” she spoke with glee, throwing her arms to the sky.

Octavia chuckled. “You two sound like a great team. Does Dissonance show up in Minuevera often?”

Madrigal tipped her hand back and forth. “Mmm, every now and then. Not super often. Still, sometimes people visiting from Coda bring yucky stuff with them. Not sure why.”

“Dissonant people,” Viola began, “are burdened with the weight of memories and emotions they can’t handle. It’s hard not to lose yourself in that when it happens. Not that they…remember.”

The sharp tint in her voice wasn’t lost on Octavia. It was lost on Madrigal, and that was perhaps not a bad thing.

“That explains it,” Madrigal accepted with a smile. “I know life in Coda can be a little rough sometimes.”

Viola scoffed. “Definitely an understatement.”

“You know a lot about this stuff, Viola,” Madrigal continued happily. “You’re so smart!”

Viola glowed with just enough pride that it drew a smile from Octavia. “I’ve got an excellent teacher who taught me all I need to know.”

Madrigal’s eyes absolutely sparkled. “Teach me everything you know! I want to become an expert on magic!”

“Not magic, Maestros,” Viola chided. “There’s a world of difference between them.”

“It’s a little bit magic,” Octavia whispered playfully. The eye roll she earned was probably deserved.

Where Octavia would’ve somewhat expected Viola to grow weary beneath the burden of explaining the Maestro world once more, the Maestra took the task in stride. Rather than wilting beneath the scorching sun, she once more blossomed into the knowledgeable guide Octavia knew her to be on Madrigal’s behalf. It wasn’t necessarily that her voice was more welcome than Madrigal’s--more or less seared into her brain as the latter had become by this point.

Still, the sight of Madrigal utterly starstruck and clinging to the girl’s every last word was endearing in its own way. It wasn’t as severely arduous of a journey as she’d truly feared, with only the violent temperatures and the mildly-ominous distance to bar her path. Every step could’ve been worse.

For how one overwhelming boom rippled through her blood and stole those very steps clean out from beneath her, she found a third obstacle entirely.