Harmony

The explosive boom that had rattled the ground beneath Octavia’s feet left leaves raining, birds screaming, and dirt peppering her at every angle. It was as unpleasant as it was sudden, and she’d initially feared she’d outright hit her head. It took effort to prop herself up onto her elbows, and yet more so to warily will herself back to her feet in full. Madrigal and Viola had fared no better, just as startled and perhaps twice as disoriented. Still, they took it in stride with notable concern.

“What on earth was that?” Madrigal asked calmly, assisting Viola in rising from the dirt with one swift tug of her hand.

“Bandits?” Octavia guessed half-heartedly. It wasn’t as though she’d ever actually encountered the issue before, given the relative safety of Silver Ridge.

Viola shook her head. “Bandits definitely don’t sound like that.”

Octavia tensed. “Where did it come from?”

“Left, I think?” Viola tried, brushing flecks of abundantly-blessed dirt off of her dress skirt. “From the woods? I don’t know, I-I’m a bit disoriented. It was sudden.”

Boom.

The second time was equally sudden and equally jarring, with nature suffering much the same collateral damage. The hailing leaves and crying birds came in the wake of Octavia’s best efforts to stay on her feet, forced to brace against Viola as the ground practically quaked beneath her yet again. She winced. It was most definitely from the left, and most definitely from the woods.

Reaching for Stradivaria was a reflex. Still, Viola shook her head just as Octavia’s fingers had brushed against the case’s rugged material. “Don’t. Not unless it’s an emergency. Pulling out a Harmonial Instrument in front of a normal person is a terrible idea, especially with this being a pretty bad place for thefts recently.”

Octavia frowned. “What if someone’s in trouble, though?”

“Assess the situation first, then react,” Viola answered sharply.

It wasn’t the most pleasant course of action. Inevitably, Octavia’s feet were moving before her thoughts could catch up, and it was somewhat ironic that she found herself running towards the earth-shattering sounds that had blighted her balance. She tossed one look over her shoulder at the Maestras in her wake, slowing slightly as their visages rapidly faded.

“Keep going!” Viola shouted. “If someone’s in trouble, you need to go first! We’ll catch up, I promise!”

Octavia nodded. She hadn’t exactly stopped to consider the discrepancies in their athleticism. Still, abandoning them felt bad. She pressed on regardless.

It was no Silver Ridge, let alone any forest she’d ever been familiar with. It came with the territory of departing the woods she’d long since grown accustomed to sprinting through regularly, although that did little to impede her flight. She pushed deep, dodging low-hanging shrubbery and side-stepping unfortunately-placed bushes as was necessary.

There was a pang of anxiety that came with the onset of disorientation. If she were to turn back, she would surely be lost. She could only hope, largely, that Viola and Madrigal could find her position instead. It was a reflex to hunt for familiar landmarks regardless, lost as she knew herself to be. That, too, came with dread, given how she quickly found none.

The field was sudden, at least. The dense greenery gave way with such a startling contrast that Octavia nearly tripped. It was a battlefield, practically, annihilated in every way. Toppled trees, splintered branches, scattered sticks, and every curse upon flora she could conceive of littered the earth. One tripping hazard in the form of the sight alone hadn’t been nearly enough, for how each and every upturned root thrusting into the open air threatened to steal her balance yet again. There was no room to run, and this was as miserable as it was confusing. It was a storm localized to one clearing alone, artificial as she’d slowly come to classify it.

Boom.

It was thunderous, infinitely louder as it rattled the ground beneath her feet yet again. She lost her balance in full once more, staggering backwards before meeting the hard embrace of a downed oak with her skull. Her head throbbed fiercely, and she groaned. Tripping was no longer her sole hazard, although she kicked herself for being as surprised as she was. It took effort to find her balance in the wake of pain, struggling to step, crawl, and press her way ever further into the absolute extensive mess of ruined nature.

The sheer amount of trees that could possibly be felled in one clearing, flourishing as they’d once been, was inconceivable. Those that still stood, clinging to their vibrant foliage and innocently soaking in sunshine, were ignorant to what had befallen those in their wake. As to the boy tilting his head at the base of one yet left intact, he was out of place. Again and again did he angle his fingers as was necessary, although the nature of his presumed measurements was untraceable. He backpedaled. Octavia did the same, preemptively. She wasn’t entirely sure why. It didn’t stop her from staring intently.

His grin was relentless. With several quick steps forwards, it took one harsh downward swing of his wrists for the world before Octavia’s eyes to explode.

Thunder itself practically erupted in her ears. The outright shockwave that followed the deafening boom had her tumbling, blasted clean off her feet by a notable margin and thudding painfully against the earth below. It was with more than a slight mouthful of dirt that she sputtered, and it took more than a moment to will her eyes open. She was grateful she hadn’t hit her head this time, at least.

She felt bad for the tree, mangled much the same as its dead brethren not so far behind. The leaves so viciously stolen still swirled gracefully in the air, settling gently to a forest floor trashed with splintered wood and spearing remnants of birch. She was lucky the debris hadn’t been launched in her direction, frankly.

Rising to her feet with ringing ears was a challenge, and she staggered all the way there. No amount of fiercely shaking her head was eradicating the lingering sound, and she groaned in aggravation. It was with mild horror that the floral assailant was not unfazed, and yet more so that he was far from satisfied. His target had shifted to yet more thriving greenery, already indulging in yet the same careful sequence of reversing steps. The moment his hands rose high aloft once more, Octavia practically lunged in desperation.

“Don’t!” she cried.

The boy halted abruptly, his hands still raised high over his head as he cast his gaze over his shoulder. “What?”

“I said don’t,” Octavia called, quieter this time. “Please, don’t.”

He lowered his arms. It was a relief.

She didn’t see cherry oak very often.

Either palm cradled one slice, elongated as they were and gripped so specifically. “Can I help you?” the boy asked, his voice tinted with something playful.

Octavia hesitated--that wasn’t exactly the reaction she expected. “Are you...knocking all these over?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “And if I am?” he teased.

Octavia faltered. “Well...why, exactly?”

The boy grinned again, bearing a shining and devious smile that was almost unnerving. “Practicing.”

Octavia raised an eyebrow. “For...what?”

“Just training. You ask a lot of questions of a total stranger, don’t you, braids?”

Octavia frowned, reaching up to her hair absentmindedly. “‘Braids’?”

He tilted his head. “Well, you didn’t exactly give me a name. You got one?”

“O-Octavia”, she stammered. He was unnerving, actually.

He grinned that same immaculate grin. “Tavi, then.”

She blinked. “Ta…vi?”

For as baffling as the situation was overall, her primary fears came in the form of the boy’s dismissal. With how his eyes were already flickering to yet more living foliage, she found the time to lunge before he could raise his hands in full once more. It took effort not to scream.

“Seriously, please don’t!” she pleaded, half-tempted to outright grab his wrists. “You’re going to destroy this entire forest.”

He lowered his arms, shrugging in mock defeat. “Alright, alright, I give up. Guess I did enough for one day, huh? Enough that you had to come and cut me off, right?”

Octavia’s hands curled into fists, largely out of annoyance alone. “People can hear you doing...whatever it is you’re doing, all the way from the main road. You’re gonna give someone a heart attack. You practically almost gave me one. Several times,” she added quickly.

“I gotcha, I gotcha. Let me extend my most humble apologies,” he jeered, faking a bow.

He was becoming irritating, slightly. Octavia did her best not to let it show, although she feared she was failing already. Still, his overly-exaggerated gesture left one little length of gorgeous cherry oak exposed enough to catch her eye. The pattern nestled deep into the wood at the base was burningly nostalgic. It was a different flavor of irritating. She raised an eyebrow.

“Octavia!”

Her full name was more welcome, by comparison. The sound of footsteps trodding upon broken twigs and scattered leaves accompanied breathlessness. “Are you okay?”

She turned sharply on one heel, desperate to meet Viola and Madrigal halfway. “I’m fine, I’m fine! Are you okay?”

Viola screeched to a halt, doubling over with hands on her knees as she gasped deeply for air. She panted heavily, every word laborious and breathless. “Went…as fast as I could. What’s…going on? Did you…find out…what was happening?”

Octavia tossed a glance back over her shoulder. He was undeterred, largely. His arms were crossed, his weight had shifted comfortably onto one foot, and the same mischievous grin was practically permanent. If possible, it may have actually grown more severe. He cocked his head.

“You brought company, Tavi?” he called, offering a wave that was nearly condescending.

“Please stop calling me that,” she deadpanned.

Viola scowled. Her mouth was already halfway open, and yet whatever venom she was sure to concoct was cut short by another Maestra altogether. Madrigal was unflinching, every step somewhere between enthusiastic and resolute as she approached the boy without hesitation. This was new. Octavia held her breath, given the way by which Madrigal didn’t seem the confrontational type.

She was polite about it, surprisingly, and equally as calm. “Please stop messing up the trees. You’re scaring the birds.”

He blinked.

“My name is Madrigal,” she continued, resting one hand gently upon her heart, “and as a protector of all that is fair and just, I cannot let you continue this heinous behavior any longer.”

And only then did he grin once more, chaotic in a way that made Octavia flinch on sight. He came to rest gently on one knee in the dirt, both halves of cherry oak settling into one hand alone. It was with his freed grasp that he cradled her fingers, raising them delicately to his lips. For how his smile was endless, it was a miracle he could lay his playful kiss upon her skin at all.

“My bad, princess,” he murmured, his teasing eyes flickering up to hers with a wink. “Won’t happen again, just for you.”

The silence that ensued was unfathomably loaded. Octavia couldn’t decide exactly when to breathe, if ever. It was a bubble she feared popping, for the aftermath she knew would surely follow. Madrigal, at least, was content enough. It was an understatement, possibly, given the way by which her eyes absolutely sparkled and her cheeks burst into a brilliant scarlet. She was aglow, unmoving and utterly captivated as she watched him with awe. His grin was unshaken. That was expected. It was Viola alone who objected, apparently, and not with grace.

“You absolute freak!”

Silver Brevada’s case falling to the dirt with a thud startled Octavia. The way by which the instrument was unsheathed in such a violent manner was equally as startling. Within seconds, the flute was readied at Viola’s lips threateningly. “Get away from her right now!”

The boy raised his arms in mock surrender, releasing Madrigal’s hand at last. “Jealous much?” he teased.

“Viola, what are you doing?” Octavia cried. “Are you out of your mind?”

Never once did her fingers move from the keys, steadied as they were. Her eyes flashed with abject rage. “He’s a scoundrel who preys on innocent girls! You’re okay with that?”

Octavia winced. “You can’t fight another person with that! You’re the one that told me only to use our instruments for emergencies!”

“This qualifies,” Viola spat. “I don’t take kindly to...low-lifes who would put their hands on a girl they’ve never met.”

He was unfazed by her ire, hands on his hips with the same wide grin. “Isn’t ‘low-life’ a little harsh?”

“Shut your mouth!”

The snowflakes were a threat, not at all hollow by any means. Every flurry born of each shrill note rose high, swirling aimlessly above the girl’s head. Each breath brought yet more, and a blizzard laid in wait behind only patient lips. They were in stark contrast with the enraged fire in her eyes, leveled squarely at the boy who drank in her icy melody with wide eyes and surprise.

His grin faltered for precisely a fraction of a second. Octavia counted. When it returned, it was downright explosive. “Oh. That changes things a bit, I think.”

“Viola, knock it off!” Octavia scolded, battling her rising panic. “You don’t understand, I think he’s--”

She was stubborn, and her song was more so. Where once had been dangerous flurries now came the crystalline wrath Octavia knew, spiked and jagged with harmful intent. The degree to which her assault was remorseless was terrifying, every swift movement of her fingers and unhesitant breath sending her spearing ice hurtling forth. The collision course they’d set with the boy, too, was no empty threat, and her aim was horrifically accurate. Octavia had half a mind to warn him, although her cries would’ve surely come too late. At least one sailing icicle was streaming far, far too precisely on a clear path to his head.

Octavia had hardly needed to worry for his safety. There was a different flavor of horror that came with his own familiar motions. With his wrists high and his grin eternal, another downward swing landed her flat on her back yet again.

Viola was not at all immune to the resounding boom that followed, blown clean off her feet with a scream. She tumbled gracelessly in reverse, hitting the ground hard with a thud that saw her rolling to a stop in the dirt. The trickling leaves only served to add insult to injury, raining upon the Maestra gently from above as she groaned. Octavia was once more cursed with a mouthful of dirt, coughing heavily as she staggered to her feet. The ice had fared poorly, either annihilated like helpless glass or spearing deep into the soft earth. Not one sliver of shimmering crystal had grazed the boy’s skin. He seemed proud enough of himself about it.

His devilish smirk was becoming a catalyst for disaster, given the way Viola only bristled further beneath it. In the time it took her to scramble out of the dirt with a growl, he had the leisure to playfully spin each little stick between his deft fingers. Madrigal was taking it well down upon the ground, her eyes glimmering as they were.

“Wow,” she breathed. “You’re amazing.”

The boy winked at her. “That’s a lovely compliment from a princess for a guy like me.”

“Madrigal!” Octavia scolded. “Intervene! Do something!”

“And you can start by getting far away from this lunatic!” Viola shouted, practically screaming into the flute. Her first failed attempt be damned, the same chilling harmony was enough to bring forth yet more piercing icicles aloft in wait.

Octavia gritted her teeth. “Viola, he’s a Maestro! This is ridiculous! You honestly think we should be fighting other Maestros?”

If Viola had heard her, she made no indication of such. Every note was violent, and every spearing sliver of crystal slashed through the air relentlessly. It took only a simple sidestep for the boy to evade, not even gracing her with the effort of an explosive counter. The close call was perhaps more insulting, and one singular icicle sailed clean past his face. It just barely rustled his curls, piercing the innocent trunk of the tree at his back with a thunk. Octavia could audibly hear her growling.

“Good shot,” he teased. “Could use a little work on your aim, though.”

She was practically radiating bloodlust. Shard after shard of crystalline fury bore down on the boy again and again. Each shot was in vain, for how he dodged with equal parts skill and surprising coolness. Given how effortless he made every action seem, Octavia was almost offended on Viola’s behalf. She was sincerely beginning to think his grin was permanent. It absolutely was not easing the Maestra’s ire.

“You’re disgusting!” she shouted. “You complete freak! You’re revolting! You’re sick! You are absolutely vile! What the hell is wrong with you?”

Octavia chanced a glance at Madrigal instead. She was of no more assistance, truthfully, a starstruck audience of one as she was. Her smile, at least, was far more innocent. By comparison to Viola, who was actively rattling off an extremely specific string of insults Octavia was not aware she knew, they were opposites to a disorienting degree. Viola refused to let up, despite the futility of her efforts. The outright arsenal of enraged ice ambling above the girl spoke to her endless fury, spearing onwards time after time with every frustrated scream into Silver Brevada. It got her nowhere.

He absolutely wasn’t helping. If anything, he was making it worse, indulging her efforts with his own explosive prowess--low effort as it was, with only lazy flicks of his wrists to show for it. They were smaller, localized, and significantly more tolerable. Each little boom was not nearly enough to decimate foliage or knock Octavia off her feet. The miniature shockwaves were still more than enough to return each and every icicle to its rightful owner--much to their Maestra’s extreme dismay. The chunks of unfortunate ice that splintered and cracked from each crystal fell helplessly to the dirt with thud after thud.

Try as she might, it was a trial for Octavia to wrap her head around his Harmonial Instrument--Instruments, perhaps. It had to end eventually, lest he have yet more surprises to share. The possibility of further collateral damage was chilling and aggravating all at once. It was to say nothing of their collective volume.

She fidgeted uncomfortably. “Listen, mister...uh…”

“Renato,” the boy called, never once stilling his half-hearted defense.

“Renato,” Octavia echoed. “We don’t need to be fighting right now!”

“Speak for yourself!” Viola cried. Her assault was eternal, every frosted shard utterly unable to accept defeat as they sailed forth consistently.

“Viola, shut up,” Octavia growled harshly. “We need to get to Coda, we’re losing precious time, he said he wouldn’t damage the forest anymore, and two Maestros should not be fighting one another!”

“She started it,” Renato replied with a calm shrug.

“Well, I’m ending it! Besides, we need all the Maestro help we can get, right?” Octavia pressed, fixing Viola with a violent glare.

“Not from him,” Viola shot back with venom. “We don’t need anything to do with a selfish freak who thinks it’s okay to destroy his surroundings and put his filthy hands on any girl he sees!”

She thought to highlight Madrigal’s not-so-repulsed reaction. Ultimately, she bit her tongue. “Then at the absolute least, we shouldn’t be wasting our time and energy picking a fight when we’re not even in Coda yet! Do you still want to make it there by nightfall or not?”

Viola hesitated, stilling before lowering the flute from her lips. Gradually, what threatening ice remained above her head surrendered in turn, melting and fizzling into soft flakes swept up by the breeze alone. The sheer quantity that had been left over was mildly distressing to observe, and Octavia had half a mind to believe she’d resume the same losing battle seconds later. The Maestra never once tore her eyes from Renato as she snatched Silver Brevada’s case from the dirt, brushing stray debris from the shell with the back of her hand.

“This isn’t over,” she growled harshly.

Renato’s grin never faltered. It was with unnecessary flair that he twirled each drumstick skillfully between his fingers before slipping both within the inner confines of his vest. “I’m guessing you girls won’t be wanting my company, then.”

Octavia didn’t dare give Viola the chance to open her mouth, cutting her off instantly. It took physical steps between the two Maestros to ensure their continued ceasefire. “This is over, this didn’t happen, we’re going to Coda, have a nice life,” she barked. “Madrigal, get up, we’re going.”

Madrigal blinked, dazed as she was. “Oh, we’re going? Okay, we’re going.”

Renato extended one hand to Madrigal with yet another playful wink. “Need a little help?”

Madrigal’s eyes sparkled with something differently dangerous as he swiftly pulled her from the ground, landing the Maestra too closely into his open arms for comfort as he did so. The scarlet dusting her cheeks was softer the second time around, to be fair. It was still more than enough for Octavia to read her like a book. Handling one Maestra was enough. Octavia didn’t have the energy left.

As quickly as was possible, she clamped her hand around Madrigal’s wrist, dragging accordingly opposite Renato. It left one Maestra in either hand, emotional opposites of one another flanking Octavia against her will. Madrigal was resistant in her own way, one needy hand half-extended in the boy’s direction for a final swipe at his charisma. Octavia wasn’t having it.

“We’re going,” she snapped, tugging harder on either wrist in her grasp. She didn’t care that they stumbled. It was necessary.

Watching her step with her hands full was a challenge in and of itself. She tossed a passing glance over her shoulder, somewhat grateful he wasn’t following. He was waving, regardless. She rolled her eyes.

“Viola,” she started, her voice laced with aggravation, “what on earth were you thinking? Do you want us to get in trouble?”

“He destroyed the forest!” she cried defensively, wriggling her way out of Octavia’s grip. “He put his hands on Madrigal! How was I supposed to react?”

“Not by attacking him! He already told me he’d stop destroying the trees!” Octavia argued.

“And you believed him? You’re being naive!”

“You’re being impulsive!” Octavia growled. “You’re the one that wanted to gather as many Maestros as we could! Hell, that was the first boy we’ve even seen with a Harmonial Instrument!”

Viola found room for ire in between her best attempts to watch her step. “It doesn’t matter if he’s a Maestro or not if he acts like that! Unrefined, undignified--”

“Viola, you watched me eat mushrooms off the ground!”

“Not that kind of unrefined! Someone who has no regard for others, and...and does whatever he wants!” she exclaimed breathlessly, making wide and exaggerated motions with her hands. “Is it wrong not to want the company of some random freak who puts his hands on your friends?”

“I don’t mind,” Madrigal breathed, surrendering to Octavia’s tugging in full. “He was...lovely.”

“Madrigal, seriously? You’re fine with some guy just...grabbing you? Kissing you?” Viola cried with astonishment.

“It was romantic,” she murmured, her eyes already sparkling once more. “He even called me his princess.”

Octavia released Madrigal’s hand to rub her temples. Admittedly, the idea of Madrigal as a hopeless romantic was not at all a stretch. She chided herself for not seeing it coming.

“Just...don’t do it again,” Octavia added. “It’s over, it’s done with, it didn’t happen.”

“Oh, it happened,” Viola muttered indignantly.

Somewhere in the midst of her frustrations came sunshine, devoid of oppressive greenery and beating upon her in full. Octavia sighed heavily, brushing away what stray bits of dirt and earth had come to cling to her dress. They’d salvaged daylight, at least. It was an awkward silence, three pools of emotion stirred by two little sticks of cherry oak. She almost had the urge to go back and start a problem solely by proxy of the ones he’d left her with. She kept her mouth shut and her feet forward. The silence wasn’t awful, on further thought.

He’d left a terrible first impression of Maestros, if her prior and more gentle experiences of Maestras had been a framework to go by. It was to say nothing of the fact that several short days had already afforded her three Maestros in total, for how she’d not so much as known of their existence earlier in the week. To be fair, even Viola had been equally stunned to discover Madrigal’s questionably-glorious prowess, steadfast in the face of Dissonance. For as aggravating as the smug boy in the forest had been, she now kicked herself repeatedly for not peppering him with more questions while she’d had the chance. Had Viola exercised a shred of restraint, she may have found something of merit. Again, she sighed.

If it was Viola rather than Madrigal, the degree to which she would’ve been level-headed was debatable. The idea of a stranger, Maestro or not, casually placing their hands on Viola instead was enough to make her stomach churn. Retrospectively, it was an uncomfortable thought.

She chanced a peek at Viola, resigned more to apparent embarrassment as she guarded her gaze. Octavia didn’t particularly feel unjustified. Still, she couldn’t quite find the words to make amends regardless. She intended to try. Madrigal didn’t give her the chance.

“I can see it!” Madrigal cried, literally jumping for joy with an energy Octavia deeply envied. She followed the path of one excited finger, aimed squarely at the horizon. “Look!”

And when she followed the gesture, her own eyes widened in turn. It wasn’t with the exact same gasp of exuberant joy that she relished the sight, but it was with wonder all the same. Silver Ridge was shameful, suddenly, for its size by comparison. Even from a distance, the walls were as ornate as they were towering. The populace beyond the arching entrance was as abundant as it was intimidating. Her mental imagery hadn’t done it justice, and she feared her heart would burst the moment she set foot into the city.

She was aware Viola was staring. She hardly cared. There was a satisfaction that came with catching Viola’s genuine smile in her peripheral, for what aggravation had preceded it. The view was more important.

“Viola?” Octavia squeaked out, her voice almost cracking.

Viola nodded, stifling a giggle. She gestured with one proud hand towards the horizon accordingly.

“Ladies, I present to you the capital city of Coda.”