Harmony

The view from a distance had already nearly crushed her. Up close, it threatened to swallow her whole and shatter her to pieces, overstimulating in every way.

The aura of the city stole the air from her throat and refused to return it, for how engulfed she was by its atmosphere nearly immediately. What liveliness had been thrust upon her in Minuevera paled in comparison to that of the capital, given the sheer volume of conversation and the absurd quantity of passersby that were visible in every direction. The roadside stalls were beautiful, the storefronts colorful and captivating, the denizens exuberant, and the general energy of a world so unlike Silver Ridge utterly mesmerizing. She could’ve watched it all day in passing. She nearly did, frozen in place as she was. She didn’t dare move, lest the scene crack like glass and she awaken from another eight hours staring at a box instead.

Something soft and warm squeezed her mildly-trembling hand, and she jumped slightly. Viola tugged onwards gently, navigating with a skillful calm through the bustling environment. Octavia held onto her for all she was worth, her eyes desperately clinging to the little blue bow bouncing above the chaos.

“I told you that you hadn’t seen anything yet, didn’t I?” Viola teased.

“It’s…incredible,” Octavia breathed.

Every step was something new. It was a risk to lift her gaze aloft, and yet she couldn’t help it. The buildings that crested well over her head gifted the streets with shade from the summer sun. Every shadow she passed beneath brought with it a chill that matched wonderfully with those besieging her spine already. One after another, they passed her by, balcony after balcony towering above in place of clouds. She could hardly see the sky, present as she knew it to be.

She nearly stumbled in the wake of children sprinting past, indifferent to her wondrous musing as they laughed and played carelessly. It was a miracle that Viola grasped her in full when she did, and she surrendered to the girl’s brisk embrace with a grateful heart--pounding or otherwise.

“Be careful. It can get crowded here,” Viola warned quickly.

Octavia nodded, still more than dazed as she pulled away. “Uh, yeah. I can tell.”

Madrigal’s glow wasn’t quite as vivid as Octavia’s own, and yet she was still elated all the same. Octavia had briefly forgotten she existed, for how swept up she’d been in the city’s splendor. The Maestra clasped her hands behind her back happily, beaming. “No matter how many times I come here, there’s always something new! Listen, listen, I hate to leave, but I have stuff to trade before the end of the day on the south side of the shopping district. Where should I meet you guys once I’m done?”

Viola hesitated briefly. “Vacanti Manor. North end, residential district. Try to get there before it gets dark. You can stay with us for the night.”

Madrigal beamed, already backpedaling into the crowd with one overly-dramatic salute in her wake. “Will do! See you in a bit!” she cried.

Viola let out a sigh the moment the girl had merged seamlessly with the sea of strangers, practically evaporating from view in an instant. “I wasn’t sure whether to be honest or not. Still, if she’s a Maestra, it’d be good to let her meet my grandmother too.”

Octavia chuckled. “You still think she only came with us by coincidence?”

Viola shook her head. “I highly, highly doubt it. Not that having another Maestra along for the ride is necessarily a bad thing.”

Octavia smiled, her steps somewhat lighter as she slowly adjusted to the atmosphere. “And now we’re headed to your grandmother’s place, right?”

“Hey, it’s my house too,” she scoffed playfully. “Just...keep an open mind.”

“Also, did I hear you say ‘manor’ earlier? Like, the…mansion kind?”

Viola averted her eyes, a tint of red splashing her cheeks. “I mean, you already knew I was...well-off.”

Octavia shrugged. “I just didn’t know by how much. I bet it’ll feel good to be home again, huh?”

Viola’s face darkened for a split second. “I don’t mind being away from home much.”

Octavia kicked herself almost instantly. For the admission she’d just been entrusted with last night, it was a fatal question. Viola’s father had outright slipped her mind. She battled to change the subject as quickly as was possible.

“So…once we talk to your grandmother, what’s the plan again?”

Viola crossed her arms as she walked, carefully freeing Octavia’s hand at last. “You and Madrigal get acquainted with her. My grandmother fills you in on everything she’s ever taught me about being a Maestra. We tell her what we’ve seen, and we tell her about your sister. Even if she doesn’t know something directly, odds are she can point us in the right direction.”

Octavia nodded. “It’s a really big city, from the looks of it. Someone’s bound to have seen her if she ever came this way, right?”

“It’s one hell of a place for information, that’s for sure. You’ll find just about anything and everything you’ll ever need in Coda.”

Octavia nodded once more. Given how relatively close the city was on foot from Silver Ridge, it was somewhat surprising that an entirely different world had thrived only several dozen miles away from home. Her mother’s scolding be damned, she could’ve made the voyage alone, had she known far longer ago. It was almost regretful. Still, she was here now, and that counted for something. Managing any of this without Viola was impossible to imagine, regardless.

“Do you want anything while we’re out here? I know I said we need to focus, but I also know you...haven’t really had the chance to look around yet,” Viola offered.

Octavia smiled. “I’m happy just to take in the sights a bit. Still a little overwhelmed.”

Viola shrugged. “Suit yourself. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Her eyes wandered accordingly, and the sights truly were enough of a souvenir. For everything she’d believed she’d already seen, yet more lay behind. Some were relatively familiar, for the specific storefronts and vendors with artisanal wares she could recognize even from home. Some were far more foreign, by which she’d never seen such textured fabrics or delicacies in her life. She committed every splash of color to memory, abundant or isolated. The faces and hands coupled with each and every aspect of daily life were largely forgettable, for as almost rude as it felt to say. She couldn’t help it. Coda itself was simply more enthralling.

Flowers were familiar, at least. Azaleas, in particular, she was fond of. It was one of several familiarities she could count up in the city thus far. The beautiful petals spilling over the side of the basket were handled with care and a gentle touch that, too, reminded her of home. He was smaller than the other merchants by a substantial margin, to say nothing of his age. She could hardly consider him one at all, try as she might. He was successful enough, and the rosy blooms gathered in bunches spoke for themselves where his confident voice didn’t quite reach. It was an effective combination. She respected it, young as he was.

Their eyes met. He had a lovely smile.

Octavia did all she could to give one back. So, too, did she slip her backpack off her shoulders, dropping to one knee in the street as she rummaged gently through her belongings.

“Something wrong?” Viola asked, slowing to a stop beside her in turn.

“There’s a boy over there selling flowers. I wanted to buy one,” she answered, continuing her rummaging. For the angle she was at, still crouched awkwardly, Stradivaria’s case slid uncomfortably down her shoulders. No amount of strange adjustments was accommodating the instrument, and she struggled to bear with the discomfort of its displaced weight for a moment.

“Do you want me to see if I have anything on me?” Viola offered.

The moment Octavia opened her mouth to decline, she found only the taste of crumbling stone on her tongue. She hit the ground face-first, falling forward forcefully as something collided with her from behind. Her cheeks scraped the road painfully, and she groaned, splayed out without a shred of grace upon the ground.

“Watch where you’re going!” she heard Viola cry.

It took her a moment to raise her head, throbbing as it was. Viola’s arms around her shoulders led her to her feet, and she staggered slightly. She had enough time to witness her presumed careless assailant speed off into the crowd, small and indifferent to her suffering. Viola rolled her eyes on Octavia’s behalf.

“God, that’s ridiculous! I’m so sorry, people don’t watch where they’re going here,” she apologized profusely.

“It’s okay, really,” Octavia reassured her, brushing flakes of stray stone off her skin as she straightened up. “No harm done.”

“Still,” Viola fretted, reaching for the backpack resting patiently on the ground. With mild effort, she raised it aloft, brushing away excess debris and returning it to its rightful owner.

Octavia nodded once in appreciation, slipping the bag over her shoulders once more. She stretched uncomfortably, for how her body still ached in the wake of the collision. Her shoulders felt light, at least, and she rubbed them accordingly. They were too light, perhaps. She patted the unfamiliarly-empty space on her skin once more, strangely unoccupied. She did it twice. The moment her eyes fell to the ground and found nothing, her heart dropped into her stomach instantly.

“Viola,” she forced out, her voice shaking, “where’s Stradivaria?”

Viola’s eyes widened in horror. “You don’t have it?”

“I-I didn’t even put it on the ground, it was just on my shoulder!” she cried. “I put my backpack down, but then I--”

“Fell,” Viola finished quietly.

Viola’s eyes and hers moved nearly in tandem. If Octavia squinted, the little figure who’d so speedily passed her by trailed the far fringes of the crowd. They were fading rapidly.

“Octavia!” Viola shouted.

It hardly mattered. Octavia had long since come to the same conclusion, dashing as quickly as was possible in the figure’s general direction. For how fast she ran, pushing through the ambling crowd was a challenge. Every “excuse me” and “sorry” that flew involuntarily from her lips cost her yet more precious time and breath. Weaving between stall after merchant after bystander was arduous and somewhat terrifying. If she squinted hard at the bend in the road, she could just barely catch a distant figure outright sprinting. She battled to move faster, difficult as it was in such an environment.

The sweat that beaded on her brow threatened to trail down her cheeks in turn. The more she ran, the more the city blurred. Every turn was disorienting, and tracking the same dot from afar with her panicked gaze alone was a trial. She failed at it more every second, her heart pounding from more than effort alone.

She had no landmarks, unfamiliar as the city was. The forest was one thing. A crowded city packed with every person in the world was another crisis entirely. Every step left her more lost than the last, and she could’ve sworn her vision was unfocusing in time with her panic. She was losing them. Her stomach hurt. She ran anyway, her dash growing more desperate by the second.

Her footsteps echoed, frantic as they were. They doubled. They were distant, closer, and then too near to ignore--certainly not her own. They were at her back, and the wind was then suddenly at her side. Someone sprinted past, faster than even she’d strained herself to go. She knew herself to be significantly fast. They were faster. Her eyes widened.

“This way!”

The hand thrown around Octavia’s wrist jerked her forward with such force that she could’ve stumbled, had her pace not already been so rapid. The stranger who led her onwards was unyielding, every hurried step possibly even faster than the last. They were skilled, weaving in and out of the crowd with a talent she couldn’t dare hope to match. By comparison, she still continued to jostle nearly everyone in her wake. The wind stung her eyes as she battled to meet their speed, pushing her body to her limits. It was a faster rush than she was used to, and she feared as to whether or not she could maintain it for long. It took extreme effort to move close enough to steal their eyes.

“E-Excuse me?” she tried in the process. “Where are we--”

“Don’t worry,” he offered softly, his breath surprisingly steady at such a speed.

He’d surrendered his lovely smile and his bountiful blossoms in favor of her hand. His sharp gaze softened only to meet hers, falling narrow once more the moment his eyes snapped forward. Octavia didn’t fight him, confused as she was. It was all she could do to match his speed.

Octavia had no idea where she was, and she didn’t dare take her eyes off him for more reasons than one. The crowd was thinning, and yet it left her deep into territory she knew she’d be permanently and hopelessly lost in alone. Viola had long since been abandoned behind her. The stone walls rising high on every side threatened to suffocate her. The alleyways and winding paths meeting her every frantic footstep threatened to trip her up at every opportunity. She wanted to hold her breath. She didn’t have the luxury in the slightest. She ran, and ran, and ran.

In the time it took her to fear for her stamina, she was rewarded with the sight of a case she’d grown to love. It was tethered to shoulders not her own, small as they were and young as the stranger was. How someone could sprint so swiftly on bare feet was beyond her, and it was almost impressive. Her eyes widened, her heart skipping several beats it couldn’t afford to miss.

“That’s my violin!” she cried, her eyes darting to her sprinting savior pleadingly.

He gritted his teeth, surrendering her wrist. “I know.”

Without her added weight, he was somehow even faster. It was almost unbelievable. His body was low to the ground as he surged forward, and she honestly felt slow by comparison. The gap between the two boys narrowed rapidly. Several seconds later, his sharp eyes were challenged only by his swift movements. He outright lunged, his feet leaving the ground as he threw himself forwards.

He was more than successful, his arms thrown quickly and efficiently around the waist of the fleeing stranger. So, too, did he go down in turn, crashing to the gravel below gracelessly. The fall did neither of them justice, and they rolled at least four times over beneath the momentum of such speed. Octavia winced at the sight, Stradivaria’s case caught somewhere in the midst of their rough tumbling again and again.

“Domino!” she heard him growl, a tone far less soft than he’d offered her. “What the hell are you doing?”

Octavia skidded to a stop herself, nearly slipping on the gravel in the process. She panted heavily, doubling over as her hands fell to her knees desperately. It took more energy than she had to spare to raise her head, refusing to peel her eyes away from the interaction. It still left Stradivaria’s case scraping the ground. It was distressing.

The smaller of the two boys was practically growling, battling to wriggle out of her floral savior’s iron grip. He was pinned more than effectively, and that, too, was impressive. No amount of scratching at the flower boy’s arms was doing him any favors. The latter doubled down with both words and physical pressure alike, undaunted.

“What the hell is wrong with you? What are you doing?” he repeated angrily.

The smaller boy only flailed harder. “What do you think I’m doing, idiot?”

“We just talked about this!”

“It changes nothing!”

“What does that even mean?”

“You’ve got your ways, I’ve got my ways! Get over it!”

“Get over what?”

“You’re not the only one trying to help!”

The flower boy threw his head back, exasperated. “How the hell is stealing from people supposed to help?”

The smaller boy’s eyes betrayed his age, for how they could’ve sliced his assailant to shreds. “Great way to not starve, so we can start there!”

The flower boy’s aggravation was almost radiant, his voice rising steadily with every word. “Stop that, you know I’d never let you starve! I wouldn’t let anyone starve! There’s literally no reason to be acting like this! We’re fine! I’ve got it! What the hell would you even do with a violin?”

“What do you think?”

“I know you know not to go near them! What’s wrong with you?”

“I’ll do whatever I want, thank you!”

The flower boy quite literally thrust his fingers deep into the mess of curls scraping the gravel, forcibly turning the smaller boy’s head in Octavia’s direction. “Apologize to her,” he demanded.

Octavia blinked. She’d caught her breath. It didn’t make her any less confused.

“Why should I?” the younger boy snarled, still somewhat resistant to the flower boy’s touch as his eyes flickered to the left.

“Because that’s her violin, you idiot,” he hissed, his voice low and his eyes dangerously sharp. “I said apologize.”

Something in his gaze was just sharp enough. The prolonged eye contact left the smaller boy backing down, averting his eyes first. So, too, did he dodge Octavia’s eyes in turn. “Sorry,” he muttered half-heartedly.

“Give it back,” the flower boy ordered, his voice significantly softer by comparison.

With his hair freed of interloping fingers, the young boy pushed himself to his feet with an irritated groan. Stradivaria’s case slid from his shoulders at last, and Octavia’s stomach lurched at the sight of the instrument briefly sent airborne. She stumbled to make the catch, sudden as it was, and hugged the case close to her chest desperately.

The flower boy nodded in satisfaction, rising from the ground as well. “Don’t do it again. I’m serious.”

The young boy rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmured under his breath.

His attention fell to Octavia once more, and his gentle smile was finally familiar. “I’m…sorry about this one. He’s a little misguided, but he had no intention of hurting you.”

“Misguided? Seriously?” the small boy spat.

“Be quiet.”

Again, he rolled his eyes.

The flower boy extended one hand calmly, his eyes long since softened. “Harper.”

Baffled as she was, Octavia returned his touch regardless. “O-Octavia.”

“And this is Domino,” he continued, gesturing towards the irritated boy accordingly.

Octavia waved feebly. “Nice to meet you, Domino.”

The boy scoffed, crossing his arms. The sentiment didn’t feel particularly mutual.

“I’m sorry we had to meet like this,” Harper continued. “Probably not the…best first impression we could’ve made.”

“No, no, it’s okay! I...think? I don’t know. I was just gonna buy a flower,” Octavia reassured, shaking her head fervently.

His eyes lit up. “You liked the flowers?”

Octavia smiled. “Azaleas, right? My dad grows some of them in his garden. I love flowers.”

He beamed right back. “I would’ve just given you one, if you asked.”

“Oh, no, I mean, I would’ve insisted on buying it anyway. It’s only right.”

Harper shrugged. “I’m sure no one would’ve noticed one little flower missing.”

For an unfamiliar city, a familiar conversation was more than welcome. “Did you grow them yourself?”

He tipped his hand back and forth. “Sort of? I work for the florist. I’m still trying to pick up the trade. Those flowers weren’t specifically mine, but I did help them grow a bit. Admittedly, my flower-tending skills might be debatable.”

“Keep at it,” Octavia assured. “My dad says that flowers are fickle, but once you get to know them, they’ll open up to you, too.”

Harper smiled. “I like that idea. Your dad sounds like a smart man.”

“Well, he’s a bit of a handful sometimes,” she corrected playfully. “Still, he did teach me quite a bit about flowers.”

“Oh yeah? What else do you know about flowers, exactly?” Harper teased.

“I-I mean, I’m not an expert or anything!” Octavia stammered. “Just basic stuff. Checking soil quality, using the right kinds of fertilizer, the usual. Nothing the florist didn’t teach you already, probably.”

“Yes, but it’s always important to get a second opinion. Not everyone grows flowers the same way, especially in the city. Not that you’re from the city, are you?” he asked with a knowing grin.

Octavia blushed. “Is it that obvious?”

“Painfully,” Domino muttered. It was enough to earn a swift kick to his ankle, and he winced.

“You seemed lost in the whole environment of the city,” Harper clarified, indifferent to the boy’s pain. “Plus you…definitely don’t dress like you’re from around here. I like the braids, though.”

She touched them anyway, suddenly self-conscious. “You…definitely seem to know your way around the city much better than I ever would.”

Harper smiled proudly. “Born and raised. All of us are, actually.”

Octavia raised an eyebrow. “All of you?”

He draped his arm casually around Domino’s shoulders, ignoring the manner by which the younger boy once more rolled his eyes dramatically. “If it’s okay with you, I’d be happy to introduce you to everyone. If you want, I mean. I dragged you all the way out here. Might as well make it up to you somehow.”

Octavia nodded with a soft smile. It wasn’t as though she’d be able to make it back on her own, regardless. She was already lost, albeit in pleasant company. She embraced it--whatever “it” consisted of. “I’d be happy to.”

One more spontaneous decision wouldn’t kill her. The entire city was already pushing it.

The winding alleyway he’d led her to was practically a maze. It took her a moment to recognize the way by which she’d already traversed part of it, involuntary and unknowing as her passage had been with her wrist ensnared. If she’d been left idle in such a place, she’d surely die before anyone came to her rescue. The sheer amount of twists and turns in such an extensive pathway was dizzying, and her respect for his navigational skills grew with every footstep.

Had Harper not intervened, and had she attempted such a pursuit alone through the entanglement of open-air passageways, she would no longer own a violin. He’d been honest about his understanding of places less traveled, well out of both the public eye and her own. Octavia struggled not to dwell on the “what-ifs”, for how they only threatened her stomach with knots she’d never be able to untangle. He’d found her. He’d helped her. She wasn’t permanently lost, ideally. Stradivaria was on her shoulders once more. That was enough.

Octavia would never be able to replicate the exact series of turns he took if she tried, and she’d already more than forgotten those that he did. At a pace she could enjoy with steady breaths, it took time for her to meet unhindered sunlight once more. It was almost jarring, given the way by which it flooded her with so little obstruction. Gone were the buildings that had showered her with shade, and she was graced once more with the full weight of sunshine in the heart of a strange city. It was welcome, if not confusing.

The gravel at her feet was significantly more excessive than had been the case before, shifting slightly beneath every step. If she squinted, she could see the forest on the horizon. The greenery was welcome, stolen as it had been by the burden of architecture and civilization. Whether or not it was the one she’d sprinted through previously was debatable, for how her orientation still couldn’t be counted on in full. She couldn’t see Renato’s devastating handiwork from here. It would’ve been a helpful indicator.

“It used to be a construction site, but they abandoned it for some reason. No one really comes here anymore, and no one ever tried to retake the land. It’s home now,” Harper said with a shrug.

She’d been so caught up with the returned blessings of nature that she’d largely missed the tents. They were speckled, yet notable in number all the same. They didn’t exactly match, their colors varied and their materials just as such. Some succumbed to patchwork and careful stitching. There were, true to his words, signs of life--clotheslines and long-deceased fires were scattered, to a degree. It was disorganized and yet orderly all at once. The accommodations were far more than was necessary for two people, and her eyes flickered back and forth between the two boys accordingly.

“Did, uh, did you say ‘home’?” she asked tentatively.

Harper nodded with a smile. “Yeah. It’s what we’ve got, and we make the most of it.”

Domino cupped his hands around his mouth. “Harper’s back,” he called.

What confusing silence she’d found was shattered sweetly.

The atmosphere was in stark contrast to that of the somewhat-cold city, for how dozens upon dozens of strangers had passed her by with mostly self-centered concern alone--not that Octavia could blame them. The rustling canvas flaps gave way to at least a handful of children, one collectively-hesitant glance at Harper more than enough to leave them sparkling. He incurred their warmth immediately and in the best way, and it warmed Octavia’s heart in turn. Some ended up around his legs. Some at least made it halfway to his torso. All of them were elated.

Harper laughed, beaming as he wrapped his arms around them carefully. “Hey! Did you guys miss me much?”

“Of course we missed you much!” one of them cried, beaming as he ruffled her hair.

“Are these your siblings?” Octavia asked with a smile.

Harper shrugged slightly, preoccupied with arms full of children vying for his attention. “I guess you could call them that.”

He tilted his head pointedly in the direction of the tents overall. Octavia followed his eyes. Steadily, one by one, yet more little flaps of textured canvas gave way to yet more little people. On sight, their ages were varied, and yet they all offered Harper the same elated waves or exuberant smiles. Their quantity was surprising, if not expected relative to the amount of tents she’d counted previously. Even excessively distracted as he was, Harper waved and smiled in return as needed. Octavia raised an eyebrow.

“You all live here together?” she tried. “This is…”

“Underwhelming?”

She shook her head. “Impressive, actually. It’s like a small community.”

Harper flinched in the absolute slightest. Octavia didn’t miss it, even as he set about the arduous process of peeling clinging children off himself one at a time. “You mean it?”

Octavia smiled warmly. “I wish I’d had this many siblings growing up.”

“We’re not actually related,” Domino scoffed, a hint of malice to his voice. “If you couldn’t tell.”

“We don’t have mommies or daddies here,” a shy, tiny voice offered from behind Harper’s leg. Peeling had done nothing, and little hands had returned just as quickly.

“But we have Harper,” another child finished, beaming proudly. They, at least, had given him space.

“He takes care of us,” yet another added calmly. “Harper’s kind of like our guardian.”

It clicked. It was still a slight guess, and it was still enough to sting Octavia’s heart somewhat. “You’re…orphans. You all live here together?”

“We’re all kind of…lost and found in different ways,” Harper spoke with a smile, “but they’re my everything.”

“I’m Louise. It’s nice to meet you,” the girl with the glasses offered firmly, bowing to Octavia with a bit too much dramatic flair.

“And I’m David,” the small boy at his side added excitedly.

“And this little one is Suzanna,” Harper finished, gesturing to the small child clinging to his leg. “She’s a little shy.”

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” Octavia replied with a smile. “How many of you are there?”

Domino shrugged. “Thirty-ish. Lost count.”

“We all do what we have to around here,” Louise clarified. “Some of us cook, some of us clean, and we help each other out where we can. Harper even teaches us stuff on the weekends.”

Octavia met his eyes. “You teach them all yourself?”

He grinned. “Work-life balance, you could say.”

“He’s the closest we have to an adult, but I’ll be replacing him someday,” Louise continued confidently. “I’m almost eleven, you know.”

Octavia chuckled. “Definitely getting there. Guess he must be doing something right to have a successor, right?”

Harper ruffled her hair, her resolute demeanor collapsing into giggles almost immediately. “Getting a little ahead of yourself. You’ve still got some growing to do, you know.”

Domino rolled his eyes. He was excellent at that, apparently. “I’m almost twelve. She’s not exactly the next in line when Harper’s gone. We can handle ourselves.”

“You all talk about me like I’m going to die or something. And what kind of ‘successor’ steals from strangers, anyway?” Harper asked sharply.

“One that’s just trying to help. You have your ways of providing, and I have mine. You wanna play with your little flowers, go ahead. Not my problem.”

Harper urged away the children swarming him as best as was possible. He was successful, breathing the slightest sigh of relief as they made for the others at large. His gaze fell to Domino alone, somewhere between sharp and soft all at once.

“I know you have good intentions,” he began, “but you’re gonna get yourself into serious trouble at some point. What kind of guardian would you be if the kids can’t count on you when they need you? What’ll they do if you’re not here? What are they supposed to do if you’re stuck in prison?”

Domino threw his eyes into the gravel with a wordless shrug.

One hand fell to the boy’s shoulder gently. Harper’s eyes were most definitely soft, now. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just…don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want the kids to get hurt, either.”

Domino shrugged once more, refusing to return eye contact. “I know. I was just trying to help.”

Harper shook his head. “Besides, you know I don’t want you anywhere near Holly and Ivy. There’s…plenty of other ways to provide through way more reasonable means.”

“Excuse me,” Octavia interrupted hesitantly. “Who are…Holly and Ivy?”

Harper exchanged an indecipherable look with Domino. For how long he took to respond, Octavia wondered if she was prying too far. Harper’s words, when she finally received them, were slow and careful. “Sisters. Questionable people, at best. They…rotate their interests sometimes.”

“Interests?”

“Well,” Domino offered casually, “they’re pretty into musical stuff right now. It’s easy enough to flip to some of the vendors in town lately. People’ll pay good money for instruments and whatnot. You’ve got that violin on you, so that’s where that was going.”

He motioned to Stradivaria’s case, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he continued. “It was for a good cause, at least. Figured if I slipped it to them, they could give us something that would keep us on our feet for a while. It’d take some of the pressure off Harper.”

“But it’s not like we’re hurting for support,” Harper reassured. “I make a living working for the florist. He’s a nice man. He pays me well, and he knows my...situation. The kids are well fed and cared for.”

Still, Domino’s prior statement was irking her, somewhat. “Why do those two girls want musical instruments specifically?”

Harper shrugged. “There’s this music-related event that’s going on tonight on the far side of the city. I’m almost positive it’s related to that. Regardless, they’re shady, they’re liars, and, frankly, I don’t want them anywhere near my family--and definitely not near this one,” he punctuated, cocking his head towards Domino.

Domino growled harshly, practically clawing at his own curls. “Oh my God, I get it! I get the point, Harper! I’m a screw-up! Get over it! Go mess around with your new girlfriend if it bothers you that much! Damn!”

He gave up on the conversation, storming off with such ferocity that he left sizable indents in the gravel. For how Harper chuckled in his wake, Octavia had mostly concluded the exchange to be routine. The boy was leaving a trail of obscenities behind him, muttered beneath his breath as they were. She hoped they didn’t reach the children.

“He’s a real piece of work,” Harper offered. “Love him to pieces, though. I just want him to stay safe.”

Octavia adjusted Stradivaria’s case on her shoulders. She made a mental note to do so far more effectively from now on, given the events of the past hour. “I never got to thank you. I would’ve been out of luck if you hadn’t been around to help.”

Harper rubbed the back of his neck shyly. “It’s nothing, really. If anything, I should be the one apologizing. It was one of my own that started this whole mess. I’m sorry he made off with something so important.”

Octavia tilted her head. “Important?”

“That violin means a lot to you, right?” Harper asked with a soft smile.

Octavia nodded. “It does, but...how did you know that?”

Harper’s eyes drifted around himself quickly--for stray little stragglers, presumably. “Can I show you something?”

Octavia nodded once more, mildly confused. “Sure?”

When he took her hand again, it was with far less urgency. She enjoyed it, by comparison, and didn’t resist when he led her onwards. Octavia was somewhat impressed with the way by which he’d managed to move cleanly through the camp without once more becoming a magnet for little hands and happy faces. In a way, she feared she was acting as a deterrent.

She wouldn’t have been able to tell the tents apart of her own accord, given how only their vague differences in hue and shading left every little canvas home unique. She found soft oranges, pale whites, and neutral grays most often. It was the latter to which he guided her, largely indistinguishable from the others. Harper stilled before it, parting the flaps of the humble canvas on her behalf.

“This one. Inside,” he offered gently.

“Inside” was, somehow, larger than she’d expected it to be. It was warm and notably more comfortable than she’d imagined from the exterior alone, enclosed by insulated material as it was. She briefly contemplated removing her boots--for all intents and purposes, she suspected this was his home, after all.

Where she’d expected to find a blank interior, pared down to essentials, the warmth that greeted her eyes was of another variety entirely. The carefully-pinned strings dangling from the canvased “walls” with care were weighed down by drawing after drawing, undoubtedly sketched with colors between little fingers. For exactly how many styles of artwork lay lovingly speckled around the interior, he was surely loved, and loved right back in return.

He had a sizable cot rather than a bed, although she felt somewhat ignorant for assuming he would’ve slept on the floor. The chest beneath it reminded her of the one in her own room, although perhaps not quite as weathered by comparison. The lock fared poorly, rusted and flaking just enough that every touch sent corroded snowflakes scattering below. Octavia took her time drinking in his home, humble as it was. He, too, took his time, comfortably on his knees as he rifled through the worn-down chest accordingly. She had questions, although she suspected they’d be largely drowned out by clinking and shuffling. She waited her turn.

Of the ones she’d concocted, all had pertained to his living environment and general lifestyle. The moment he withdrew his hands, occupied as they were, every last one fled as her thoughts screeched to a complete and utter halt. A thousand new questions of a different nature entirely took their place, and she could hardly blink.

The towel that fluttered to the floor in a careless heap gave way to lustrous golds, shimmering beneath what brilliant sunshine still managed to pierce the thick canvas and sneak its way through the cracks. The trumpet was as resplendent as it was immaculate, pristinely cared for in a manner that contrasted starkly with what Octavia had expected of such a storage unit. Every gentle movement of the instrument in his hands left it glistening further, and he pressed each key in turn once over experimentally. He smiled.

“It’s crazy, but I’ve never had to oil the valves the entire time I’ve had this thing. It’s always been perfectly fine,” Harper clarified.

The engraving that kissed one of the slides was of far, far more importance. The little silver marking, elegantly curving and twisting as it was, contrasted beautifully with the golds it lay pressed so gently into. It was small. It was unmistakable, for how used to it she was slowly becoming. Her luck was unfathomable, and her eyes widened so quickly that the spilling sunlight nearly burnt her pupils in turn.

“Where did you get this?” Octavia asked breathlessly.

Harper’s smile slipped from his lips for a moment as he ran his fingertips over the bell. “I…just found it at some point. It was in a place I hadn’t really expected it to be. I didn’t want to leave it there, so I brought it back with me. Still, I’m amazed at how well this thing held up. It works great, believe it or not.”

Octavia didn’t get the chance to object to his spontaneous demonstration, soft as it was relative to the instrument he carried. His volume was carefully tailored, and he offered her a brief melody that left her smiling. Even in the midst of his song, he grinned in return, his lips still pressed to the instrument as he tapped upon every key delicately. It was startlingly normal. Octavia was simultaneously relieved and perplexed.

“I mean, it sounds great! You’re pretty good at playing,” she offered anyway.

Harper beamed at the praise. “I never formally learned how to play it, to be honest. It wasn’t that hard to pick it up. Just kinda came to me one day, weird as that probably sounds. I have to be quiet about it, though. No one knows I have this thing, and I really don’t want to know what happens if anyone finds out. I don’t know how many concerts I’m willing to give, for how often I’d have to hear about it.”

“Do you think Domino would try to take it from you if he knew?” she asked. “For Holly and Ivy?”

Harper rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna be honest with you, I think I’d kill him if he tried. He knows better than to touch my stuff. If it was for that reason in particular, I’d kill him twice.”

Octavia’s best attempts to smile were blighted by her larger concerns. She chose her words extremely carefully. “Harper, does anything…weird, I guess, ever happen when you play?”

Harper cocked his head, forgoing the cot entirely in favor of the floor. “Weird how?”

Octavia followed along, crossing her legs opposite him. She slipped Stradivaria’s case into her lap, grappling with the warring suggestions in her head. She could demonstrate. She could keep her mouth shut and be safe. She could be horrifically wrong. She could be splendidly correct. It was a risk she feared taking alone. Still, if she didn’t try, she’d never know. It was motivation enough, lest she regret it fiercely for the rest of her Maestra life.

“It’s my turn to show you something,” she said, unzipping the case with slow and steady fingers. Stradivaria settling into her lap was the point of no return, and she took a deep breath in preparation of what was to come.

Harper smiled gently. “It’s lovely.”

Octavia shook her head, turning the violin over carefully. “Thank you, but that’s…not what I meant.”

She gestured to the Harmonial Crest pressed deep into the mahogany, trailing one fingertip over the mark delicately. “Does this look familiar to you?”

Slowly but surely, Harper’s smile faded the longer he stared. He fumbled with the trumpet for a moment, his gaze falling to the identical little contrast of silver upon gold. He raised it nearly level with his eyes before casting them back at Stradivaria. He did it twice. At one point, the brass came to a careful side by side stop against the mahogany with a soft clack. She watched his eyes dart back and forth at least once more. Then and only then did she finally see it click, for how they widened at last.

“They’re the same?” he murmured incredulously. “But...how?”

“Harper, please be…honest with me,” Octavia pressed softly. “Has anything strange ever happened with your trumpet?”

He hesitated, tensing. It took time for him to sigh deeply, his expression strained as he raised the trumpet to his lips once more. The soft notes he offered to her were still just as pleasant. For a moment, she suspected he’d gift her with another harmless melody, still appreciated in its own way. Instead, it was the third type of warmth she’d found in their canvas enclosure, fleeting as it was and unnatural in origin.

The delicate sparks that trickled from the bell flickered with just a hint of vibrance, gorgeously orange and radiant beneath the streaming sunshine. They were sweet and elusive, raining onto the floor with little impediment beneath the guidance of every resonant note. Some crackled longer than others, precious embers sparkling like stardust in a way that left her wanting to reach out and touch them. She didn’t, for fear of being burnt. Even now, she feared for their safety in such a possibly flammable environment. It wasn’t a prominent concern. The display was beautiful, and she was much too enthralled to care.

The moment he caught her staring, captivated or otherwise, he confiscated his warm melody. Harper doffed the trumpet from his lips quickly, stammering. “S-Sorry, sorry! I don’t know why it does that! I swear I don’t do it inside, I know it’s dangerous. I always thought I was just seeing things. I promise I don’t do anything with it. Sometimes, when I get too into playing, it just happens, and I don’t know why, and it’s--”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Octavia reassured, settling her hands over his own quickly. “There’s nothing wrong with it. When did this start?”

Harper set the trumpet down in his lap, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s…always been a problem, ever since I found it. It kinda makes me scared of playing sometimes. It’s messed up, honestly. I lost my parents in a fire, and now this thing just does…well, this. It’s ironic. I’m not exactly the biggest fan of what it could possibly do if I screw up.”

“Does anyone else know?”

Harper shook his head. “To tell you the truth, that’s the…other reason I don’t want anyone to know I have it.”

Octavia breathed a sigh of relief. That was one saving grace.

She took an equally deep breath to compensate, settling Stradivaria onto her shoulder. With the bow resting gently upon the strings, she caught his eyes. “You’re not alone.”

If there was ever a time for it to work, it needed to be now. She pleaded with Stradivaria. She only needed one chance.

Her fingers moved of their own accord, and she strung together a slow melody that kissed the air gracefully. The moment she felt her fingertips tingling, she silently celebrated one small victory. It wasn’t a burn, nor the scathing warmth that her blood and pores couldn’t contain. She didn’t spill radiance onto the strings in excess, and she didn’t send it surging forth with such unrestrained fury. Instead, her gentle harmony birthed an equally-gentle flavor of light, luminescent little stars flickering to life before her eyes. They claimed the open air peacefully, neither scorching nor lethal as they crackled and fizzled preciously.

Every small golden glow left starry afterimages in Harper’s eyes, her fascination with his lovely embers now traded for that which her light granted him instead. She blessed him in excess, the warm aura radiating from every little orb more than enough to caress her skin. For what sunshine continued to slip through the heavy fabrics overhead, Octavia offered him the tiniest of night skies. His smile was the only thing that could put the brilliance of her newborn stars to shame.

When she stopped, each tiny orb flickered and died in turn, softly fizzling into nothing once more. It took more than a moment for the interior of the tent to settle into the natural glow of peeking sunshine once more. It took much longer than that for Harper to come back to her, blinking heavily several times over.

“Wow,” he breathed, still visibly more than dazed.

She beamed.

“Harmonial Instruments,” Octavia began, gently resheathing the violin as she spoke. “Maestros. Maestras. I don’t know too much about all of this stuff myself, but there are others like you. There are others like us. You’re not alone.”

Harper’s eyes were absolutely sparkling. “How did you…”

“Say its name.”

He blinked once more, confused. “Huh?”

“Your instrument. Say its name.”

Harper shook his head. “The…trumpet? I don’t...why would I give it a--”

“Say it,” Octavia commanded.

“Royal Orleans.”

It was sudden enough that he flinched beneath his own words, his expression more than strained. His eyes flickered to the instrument accordingly, and it took him several seconds to speak once more--puzzled as his voice was. “Why did I…”

“You have a connection, just like Stradivaria and I. I don’t know all the details of how that works yet, like I said, but there’s something between you two. You’re partners.”

“Partners,” he echoed with mild disbelief. “With the...trumpet.”

Octavia nodded. “With the trumpet.”

“And you’re...with the violin?”

“Mhm.”

“And you called it…”

“Stradivaria.”

“Stradivaria. Got it,” he said with a nod. Octavia didn’t particularly believe that he got anything, necessarily. She appreciated his attempts to follow along regardless.

“I didn’t understand any of it myself, either. I had someone to teach me. There’s a girl named Viola--”

Oh, God, she forgot about Viola.

“Oh my God, I left her there,” she sputtered under her breath, quickly scrambling to her feet with her belongings in tow.

Harper rose alongside her, albeit with far less panic. “What’s wrong?”

“I left someone behind when I was chasing after Domino. She’s probably still there, way back in the market area! I completely forgot about her! Oh, God, I don’t even know how to get back--”

“Hey, it’s alright! I’ll take you back to her, no worries,” Harper reassured, laying one hand upon her shoulder gently.

Octavia breathed a sigh of relief. There was a hint of guilt over how severely she’d been leaning on his navigational skills in the brief time they’d known one another. Still, they were desperately needed. She apologized with a silent smile.

She had another way to apologize, if she thought long enough about it. The words were out of her mouth before she’d processed them.

“Come with me,” she offered.

He blinked. “Where?”

“My friend, her grandmother knows all about Maestro stuff. She’s going to tell us everything she knows. You should…come with us. You can hear the same things she’ll tell me. She can explain everything.”

Harper’s eyes widened. “Everything? About...what’s been happening with me?”

Octavia beamed. “We can go together. We can learn about everything together, too.”

Harper grinned, sparkles igniting in his eyes once more. “That’s one hell of a repayment.”

The sunlight slamming into her in full once more was enough to leave her wincing. He took it well enough by comparison. The dichotomy between the privacy of the tent and the vibrant atmosphere of dozens of children engaged in daily activities was mildly jarring. Still, Octavia preferred it to the idea of returning to swelling crowds of strangers once more. Whether with a capable guide at her side or not, the idea was still unsettling even now. She clung to Stradivaria’s straps on her shoulders anxiously.

“Domino, take over for me tonight,” Harper called from behind her.

“Whatever,” she heard lazily, the boy’s voice biting from a place unseen. Octavia tried and failed to suppress a laugh.

“You’re…gonna have to lead me back to the market. I have no idea where we’re going,” she muttered with embarrassment.

Harper flashed her a confident grin, adjusting his cap. “Then you’re lucky you’ve got me around, huh?”

He claimed her hand, and she didn’t resist as he led her into the winding alleyway once more. “Lucky” was an understatement.

For the effort it had taken her to retrace her steps--assisted or otherwise--she’d expected somewhat more alarm and concern to glaze Viola’s face in some capacity. Instead, her presence came second to the apparent indulgence of a fizzy beverage she couldn’t place. It was only a half-hearted wave she found for her troubles, and that was almost enough to make her roll her eyes.

Octavia didn’t particularly have much room to complain, given that she’d left the girl for such a long time with little attempt to reunite once more. She’d hardly left the comfort of the flower shop, her elbows nonchalantly propped against the table and her head tilted with a gaze more so curious than fearful. Octavia stumbled over what apologies she could cobble together, whether or not Viola seemed poised to accept them--let alone expect them in the first place.

“Viola, I’m so sorry, we ended up across the city, and I didn’t even think about how you were still here, and--”

Viola raised one hand in a plea for peace, sipping delicately at her drink before proceeding. “At this point, I’ve sorta just started assuming you’re gonna end up in trouble somehow. Might as well take my time waiting on you to get back.

Octavia exhaled in relief, somewhere between mildly offended and grateful for her understanding. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Gave me time to get something to drink. You missed out.”

Octavia’s eyes flickered to Harper anxiously, idling behind her calmly by comparison. “Okay, so there’s, uh, kinda something you missed out on, too.”

Viola leaned forward in her chair slightly, peering over Octavia’s shoulder. “The flower boy?”

“Okay, yeah, the flower boy, yes,” Octavia stammered, choosing her words carefully. “But he’s kinda...not just a flower boy? He’s, uh, he’s also a...Maestro.”

Viola’s eyes went wide. Harper waved nervously.

“God, Octavia, another one? Are you a Maestro magnet or something?” Viola whispered harshly.

“That’s a good thing, right? He’s not that other guy! That’s all that matters!” Octavia whispered back, just as harsh.

“How the hell did you even find another one? We’ve been in the city for what, two hours?”

“Listen, he’s nice, he’s respectable, and he helped me get Stradivaria back! Can we take him with us?”

“You want him to come with us? You just met him!” she whispered louder, her muted volume gradually increasing.

“We just met Madrigal yesterday, and we’re taking her with us! You’re the one that wanted to find more Maestros, and now you’ve got three! Me, Madrigal, and him! That’s a good number, right?”

“How did you even find out he was a Maestro?”

“He showed me!”

Viola recoiled. “What do you mean he showed you?”

“He has a trumpet, I forgot what he called it. He took it out and showed me, and it made these cute little embers--he’s got fire or something, I think--and so I showed him Stradivaria back.”

“You showed him Stradivaria? Are you insane?” Viola snapped in the same harsh whisper, having nearly escalated to true shouting.

Octavia was hardly immune to the same. “He showed me first! I already knew he was a Maestro! No harm done!”

“You can’t just go around showing random people Stradivaria! Do you know how dangerous that is? You just met this guy!”

“You just met me the other day, and you showed me right away!”

“That’s different! I saw you fight! We fought the Dissonance together!”

“Listen, you wanted Maestros, I got you Maestros!”

“Uh, excuse me.”

Harper clearing his throat was enough for both girls to part from one another instantly. Octavia tensed. In truth, she’d nearly forgotten he was there.

“Do you guys mind if I go talk to the florist really quickly? I’ll be right back,” he asked calmly.

Octavia blushed slightly. In further truth, she’d also forgotten she’d outright stolen him from his work previously. “Y-Yeah, no problem. I…kinda forgot you were on the job earlier.”

Harper smiled gently. “Give me one second.”

Octavia waved to him on his way in, somewhat holding her breath until he was out of earshot. Viola raised an eyebrow at her, sipping aggressively at her drink.

“You don’t like him, do you?” Octavia muttered.

Viola sighed. “He’s better than the other guy, that’s for sure. He seems like he’s got himself together, too. It’s not that I don’t like him, it’s just that I don’t want you getting yourself into trouble.”

Octavia rolled her eyes with a slight groan. “I promise I’m being careful. I wasn’t just showing Stradivaria to people for no reason. I’m not that careless.”

“I don’t think you’re careless,” Viola offered softly. “I just want you to be safe.”

The smile she returned was just as soft. “I appreciate it. Can we, uh…take him with us to your grandmother’s place, then?”

Viola scoffed. “Should’ve seen that coming.”

Octavia winced. “Is that a no?”

Viola stretched in her chair. “It’s not a no. At this point, there’s no real point in arguing about it, because I know you’re just gonna argue back until I say yes. Besides, you’re right. I did ask for Maestros.”

She finished with a smirk. Octavia grinned. “When are we actually going to your grandmother’s house, anyway?”

“I was literally just waiting on you. You and your little mysterious Maestro friend over there,” she clarified, gesturing lazily towards the door.

Harper left a smile and a wave in his wake as he departed the shop, and it was Viola’s pointed gaze that greeted him in full the moment the sunshine did the same. He flushed beneath the weight of her staring, tensing somewhat. The one hesitant hand that rose to offer a peaceful wave was a respectable attempt at mediation, strained or otherwise.

“Hello, I, uh, don’t think we’ve met,” he offered awkwardly. “I’m Harper. And you are…”

Viola rested her cheek in her palm half-heartedly, offering him a casual smirk. “Viola. Viola Vacanti. Friend of Octavia’s, just like you.”

“She’s one of us,” Octavia assured with a smile. Harper’s barely-audible sigh of relief was not lost on her.

“If you’re a Maestro, you should hear what my grandmother has to say, too. I don’t think there’s any harm in you coming along for the lecture. Just be ready to take in a lot of information really quickly. Keep an open mind,” Viola continued.

Harper nodded with a genuine grin in return. “I won’t let you two down.”

He’d have three Maestras to contend with, actually. Octavia didn’t have the energy to tell him directly. He’d figure it out soon enough.