The sun was promising, a blessing she couldn’t help but take as a positive accompaniment to her first fearless steps beyond the boundary of Silver Ridge. Neither too hot nor too lenient, the warmth she found was threefold--above, beside, and behind, for the girl who matched her stride and the violin nestled firmly against her back. Octavia had the urge to run. Taming it was a far greater trial than she was willing to admit to. She had the urge to pelt Viola with every question that could possibly cross her thoughts. She was less resistant to that problem, and yet at least tempered them into a steady trickle.
“So, uh,” she began shyly, “we’re going straight to Coda?”
Viola shook her head, her bow bouncing slightly with every little movement. “Not quite. Coda is a two days’ walk from here, and I don’t want to take the chance of getting stuck out in the dark again like last time. We’re going to stop at Minuevera for the night before we head back out again in the morning. It’s still another few hours of walking until we get there, though.”
Octavia shrugged. “That’s fine. I’m used to walking for a long time. I forage sometimes, so I’m out for hours at a time when I do.”
Viola tilted her head. “Foraging?”
“You know, like…finding edible stuff on the ground. Mushrooms and whatnot.”
The slight recoil that hit the girl wasn’t quite enough to shake Octavia. It took her a moment to find an example, given how close they still were to Silver Ridge overall. Outside of its boundaries or not, she knew the environment well enough. Her eyes trailed the grass for a moment, both distant and far. It was at the base of a tree several paces away she at least spotted something vaguely familiar, for what little she remembered of the color and shape. It was harmless, and of that, she was certain. Should she accidentally poison Viola within the first forty-eight hours of knowing her, she wasn’t sure what kind of punishment she would need to inflict on herself.
Octavia pointed accordingly. “That one’s edible, if you want to try it.”
Viola shook her head vigorously, cringing. “I-I’m alright, thanks. I’m not…sure how I feel about eating things off the ground.”
It was more of a reflex than a demonstration. She strayed, briefly, and claimed the treeside puffball herself. Firm and textured, the little white mushroom was most definitely innocent up close. It tasted fine. It was at least one thing she’d miss about Silver Ridge, given that she assumed she’d be surrendering the bounty of nature in Coda. “Guess they don’t do much foraging in the capital, huh?”
Viola blushed, averting her eyes. “I-I mean, no, but there’s nothing wrong with it! I figure it’s just…you know, something you’d do in a place that’s more rural, I guess? That’s not a bad thing, I mean! I’m not trying to say that you’d have to be--”
“Hey, it’s fine, really!” Octavia cut her off. “I didn’t mean anything by it. We were raised differently, and that’s okay.”
Viola sighed. “I just don’t want you to think I’m some...spoiled rich girl or something.”
“Of course not!” Octavia cried just a bit too loudly. “Never! Your background doesn’t matter at all. I like just being with you already.”
Viola’s tiny smile was welcome. Octavia did what she could to offer a brighter one in return.
“What were you saying about Minuevera, again?” she prompted.
Viola cleared her throat. “It’s a little town on the way to the capital. It’s more of a trade town than anything. Have you ever been there?”
She’d never been anywhere, truthfully. Octavia shook her head. “No, but my dad has. He goes there sometimes to get more materials for the shop.”
“The…shop?”
Octavia nodded. “He’s a woodworker. Every now and then he goes out that way to pick up more varnish and sanding supplies and whatnot. He’s really skilled. He can make just about anything. It’s honestly really impressive. He even made some of the furniture in our house, actually.”
Viola smiled softly. “Your father sounds very talented.”
“What about your family?” Octavia asked.
Viola fell silent, her eyes scraping the dirt. Octavia tensed. “Y-You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she added quickly.
“No, it’s okay, really,” Viola responded quietly. “My father...did some bad stuff, even though he didn’t mean to. He’s serving life in prison. My mother didn’t take it well. She left.”
Octavia’s heart sank. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s alright. I’ve been meaning to talk about it at some point, anyway. Maybe I’ll explain later.”
“I mean, we’ve got a lot of time before we hit Minuevera. If you want to talk, I mean. It…doesn’t have to be about that,” Octavia offered.
“If we’ve got so much time,” Viola added with a playful roll of her eyes, “maybe we should get you some more Maestra training before we get there.”
“Really?” Octavia nearly shouted, outright startling Viola before recapturing her volume. “I-I mean, if it’s okay with you! I’ve been meaning to ask all sorts of stuff about Maestras, and more about Harmonial Instruments, and things about Coda, and--”
“Hey, one thing at a time!” Viola shushed with a smile. “Give me one of those sandwiches your mother made and I’ll see what I can do in return.”
“Deal!”
She nearly fumbled the case entirely, given the speed at which she ripped it from her shoulders. Viola took her time sifting through Octavia’s backpack. Octavia, by comparison, did not take her time in any capacity withdrawing the violin. That, too, she almost dropped in the process, and that transgression would’ve fallen at least second to the shame of giving Viola accidental food poisoning.
The Maestra hardly seemed to care, given the way she was already more than engrossed in her little sandwich slice. “Your mother is a great cook, did I tell you that already?”
“Violaaa,” she whined, “Teach me things!”
“Okay, okay! Just make sure you keep walking while you play, or we’re never gonna get to Minuevera before nightfall.”
Octavia nestled the violin against her shoulder, leveling the bow with the strings gently. “Not a problem! Okay, what do I do first?”
“Well,” Viola began, indulging in slightly more sandwich, “you should practice playing a bit. We already talked about this a tiny bit, but you don’t need to know how to play to actually do it. That’s the nice thing about being a Maestra--you can just let your Harmonial Instrument do the work.”
Octavia experimentally drew her bow over a single string, savoring the one delicate note she earned in return. “So just kinda...feel it? Improvise?”
“Let your hands do their own thing. Feel the will to play in your heart, and go for it.”
It made enough sense in theory. It was difficult to resist the urge to consciously try, for what playing without focus consisted of. She’d done it once, surreal as the experience had been at the time. It was dangerous to close her eyes while walking, and surely more so with her hands full. Still, it helped, and her fingers moved along the bridge with less strain than she’d expected. Every motion of the bow was instinctive in a way she couldn’t quite pinpoint, just as experimental as it was intentional. Surrendering to muscle memory she didn’t exactly have was jarring. Given the soft song she was slowly weaving into the open air, unfamiliar and born somewhere in the midst of her confusion, she traded her very mild concern for elation.
“Perfect,” Viola affirmed with a smile. “Now put some power behind it. Mix in the will to fight. Think back to whatever you were feeling that night.”
“At the same time? How am I supposed to--”
“Feel it, like always,” Viola interrupted. “Right in your heart. Harmonial Instruments work with their Maestro’s will and emotions. If you work to make it happen, it’ll happen.”
That, by comparison, was far more difficult of a concept. She could more or less fumble her way through playing a simple song. To recapture that scorching sensation beneath her skin of her own volition would be a trial. As to what she was supposed to be praying for, she had no idea. She flexed her fingers at least twice over against the handle of the bow, hunting for the slightest flicker of heat. She had half a mind to ask if it would always be the bow. Searching for the same scalding warmth stinging her along any other inch of the violin was distracting. Octavia was vaguely aware of the way by which her song had picked up speed, involuntary as the pace had become. If it was a spark waiting to catch, this was perhaps what it took to ignite.
Viola raised an eyebrow. “Don’t hurt yourself, though.”
The only heat she was finding came in the form of her burning muscles. Where she hoped for her blood to bubble and burn yet again, she was blessed only with cramps. It was sheer desperation that kept her trying, and she had half a mind to fear she’d snap one of the strings beneath the pressure of her song. She prayed, pushed, pulled, and played as quickly as her fingers would allow, straining to such a degree that her head hurt instead.
Something stung, and she yelped. For a second time over, she nearly dropped the violin entirely as her melody screeched to a halt. It was her palm, flush with the bridge, that had succumbed to the slightest jolt beneath her skin. For a fraction of a second, it was a familiar sensation--devoid of the bow as it was. Objectively, she could’ve tried to do it again. Once was enough to slam her with a victorious high, and her proud grin was explosive.
“I felt it!” she cried with glee. “I felt it! I felt a spark!”
Viola shrugged, rolling her eyes with a smile once more. “Practice makes perfect. A spark is a good start.”
Octavia beamed. “Do you want to play with me? Maybe something else will happen if we do it together.”
“Can’t,” Viola answered pointedly. “Just ate. You’re not supposed to play a flute right after you eat, you know.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Well…what if you try Stradivaria?” Octavia offered, thrusting the violin and bow before her.
Viola shook her head. “Stradivaria is your Harmonial Instrument. It wouldn’t do a whole lot for me. It’d be like playing a normal violin, which I am, unfortunately, completely unskilled in.”
Octavia shrugged with a soft smile. “Fair enough.”
Returning the violin to the safety of her shoulder felt natural. Absentminded movements grew easier with time, and she embraced the instinctive sensation of her hands moving happily without conscious input. If the delicate and satisfied song she strung together with every step was anything to go by, it was fruitful practice. Viola seemed to enjoy it just as much, and it only left Octavia beaming ever brighter. It was a different kind of warmth beneath her touch entirely.
She enjoyed the walk, if not largely for the company it came with. For what little Octavia still knew of her icy savior that night, getting acquainted under the splendor of the summer sky was wonderful. It was somewhat difficult to temper the volume of her song versus the onslaught of queries she showered the Maestra with, both relevant and irrelevant to the task at hand alike. To share herself with another felt phenomenal, and she soaked up every bit of Viola’s personality she could steal.
She’d teased as to the girl’s mismatched name and instrument, enjoying the eye roll she’d earned in return. She’d learned of Viola’s lighter personal life, by which she apparently owned a cat. She’d offered up her own passions and interests in return, as steadily paced as she could will herself to disperse them. Logically, it was a long walk, for how the sun dipped gradually lower with each happy sentence and sentiment. It felt like nothing. She wouldn’t have minded doing it again.
Their timing in surrendering the sunshine had been more or less flawless, and the parting greenery left them with civilization on the near horizon. It took Octavia’s eyes more than a moment to catch up with her hands, her song stilling in exchange for the sights beyond.
It was no Silver Ridge, the homely architecture stylized differently in a manner she still relished. It was sweet in its own right, blessed with both the fruits of conversation and the literal fruits that were strikingly abundant outside. Most were boxed. Some were lovingly-displayed, if not occasionally slipping into safer housing as the earliest stars flickered to life high above. Even from afar, the town was as lively as it was colorful, the climbing moon only augmenting its comforting atmosphere as it settled into the evening. It was slowing, she presumed. It was still at least ten times more vibrant than the town she’d left behind.
“Not much of a traveler, I see,” Viola teased, playfully elbowing her side.
Octavia stammered defensively as she resheathed the violin with trembling hands. “I-I’ve never left Silver Ridge, okay? This is my first time seeing a whole different town, and especially a different...well, everything!”
“Take it in as we walk, at least,” Viola somewhat ordered, reduced to physically tugging a starstruck Octavia along. “There’s an inn here that had great food on my way through. I’ve been sorta looking forward to it most of the day.”
“An inn?”
“That one.”
It was a brick-blessed building just as cute and just as quaint, if not every bit as enticing from beyond. Octavia didn’t resist Viola’s touch one bit as her boots scraped the cobblestone below, stumbling slightly in the process. The softly-weathered, paint-kissed sign nestled high with care was as simple as it was confusing, for whatever she was intended to glean from “Talludo” alone. Even from outside, every scent was phenomenal. That was absolutely more than enough to satisfy her.
Viola held the door with her free hand, still guiding a disoriented Octavia with the other. “You can stare as much as you want once we’ve actually had something to eat. The whole town will still be there, I promise.”
She didn’t get to protest, nor did she make it more than five steps without immediate hospitality. The girl who practically leapt in front of them barred their path, somewhat, armed with a brilliant smile and a questionable volume. Octavia flinched.
“Hello! Welcome to--wait, haven’t I seen you before?” she hesitated with a tilt of her head.
Viola nodded, freeing Octavia from her grasp. “I stayed here a few nights ago. I’m going the other direction now. How much is it for two beds this time?”
The girl shook her head vigorously, her curls bouncing almost aggressively against her shoulders. “Don’t worry about it! It’s on the house. We don’t usually get girls around my age. This is so exciting!”
Her volume was still more than was necessary by a wide margin. Octavia side-eyed Viola discreetly, earning only a half-hearted shrug for her efforts.
“She was like this last time, too,” Viola whispered. “I have no idea.”
Octavia forced a smile, somewhat overstimulated. “I’m…guessing you already met Viola, but we haven’t met yet. My name is Octavia. It’s nice to meet you, uh…”
“Madrigal!” the girl practically shouted, bouncing on her heels with an energy nearly intimidating. “I’m Madrigal Talludo, and I’d like to formally welcome you to the Talludo Inn! We’ve got the finest hospitality in the town, and we even make all our own dishes with fresh fruit and vegetables from our garden out back. You guys should consider staying the night!”
“We’re…already staying the night. I just said that,” Viola spoke slowly.
“Right! You did say that! Here, I’ll get you guys set up with something to eat. There’s some room right here if you want. Is there anything in particular you want to drink? Do you have any preferences with--”
“I-I’m good with just water,” Octavia stammered, struggling to balance following the girl’s words and following her hurried movements simultaneously. For how her wrist had been reclaimed by another girl entirely, her new guide was not even slightly as gentle. The energy was even more concerning when it threatened her orientation, and she nearly fell out of the chair she was more or less shoved into. Her waitress was still talking, apparently. There was a menu in her hands, now. She’d hardly had the time to blink. Three minutes inside was all it had taken to maximize her overstimulation.
“--and the tomato soup is really good, if you want to try it! It’s one of my personal recommendations. We make it with the vegetables we grow in-house, right in our garden out back. Can you believe that?”
“Yes, because you said it already,” Viola reminded, her tone strained somewhat. “We’ll just take whatever you’d recommend.”
“Got it! I’ll be back with the whole course! That way, you can try everything we’ve got to offer!”
Viola winced. “No, you really don’t need to bring every--”
“I’ll be right back!” their waitress reassured, bowing deeply enough to nearly slam her head against the table.
She quite literally ran. Her navigation between the throngs of guests was skillful, if not apparently startling. The moment she was out of sight, the Maestras breathed a deep sigh of relief in tandem.
“She’s definitely a very...hard worker,” Octavia offered.
“I’m seriously concerned about how much food she’s about to bring out.”
Octavia smirked. “You did say you were looking forward to eating here again.”
Viola returned a smile of her own, trailing her fingertips along the tabletop absentmindedly. “I’m not used to walking for as long as we did. The trip to Silver Ridge and back is the furthest I’ve ever gone on my own, to say nothing of actually walking there. We’ve earned our rest, I think. I know the environment is a little…chaotic, though.”
“Your grandmother let you make that trip all by yourself? Wasn’t she worried?”
Viola’s face fell in the slightest. “She...wasn’t overly bothered by it. I’d say your family put up more of a fight,” she answered softly.
Her tone was just barely unsettling enough that Octavia hesitated to push. She didn’t. “Will we be able to get to Coda by tomorrow?” she tried instead.
Viola raised her head, the indiscernible tension in her voice thinning quickly. “I mean, from a travel standpoint, Coda is surprisingly close to Minuevera. On foot, the walk should be just a tiny bit shorter than today’s was. Still, we’re gonna have to wake up early.”
Octavia smiled. “I always do. As soon as the sun comes up, I’m ready to go. No problems there.”
Viola nodded. “Good. On my last trip through, there was no Dissonance between here and Coda, so it should be peaceful. The only Dissonance I saw was--”
“In Silver Ridge, right?” Octavia finished hesitantly. “The Dissonance that we...both saw.”
Viola nodded once more, slow as the motion was. “Don’t get too used to it.”
Octavia fidgeted uncomfortably. It wasn’t a particularly joyous topic. Still, she’d been biting her tongue on it for long enough. “So, uh...about Dissonance. Is it common?”
Viola lowered her voice, leaning in slightly. “More common than it should be. We’ve been getting lucky so far. Don’t…forget that normal people don’t know about any of this. Keep it close to your heart, okay?”
Octavia nodded. “When you say they come from things like bad memories or…feelings, or whatever, how far does that go? Is it gonna show up if I get angry or think about something sad?”
Viola shook her head. “Not quite. The memories that turn into Dissonance have to be strong and vivid enough to prompt a physical form. They’d have to be agonizing--things that are unbearably painful to remember. Because of that, certain places are more prone to Dissonance showing up.”
“Is there a lot of it in Coda?”
“Not in the city, but it shows up sometimes on the outskirts. It’s also pretty common where people...y’know.”
Octavia raised an eyebrow. “Know what?”
Viola’s volume dipped lower. “Where people...die. People who pass away with regrets and hurt in their hearts, especially. Usually, that’s where the strongest Dissonance comes from.”
“Have you ever seen that kind?”
Viola shook her head once more, quicker by comparison. “No, of course not. I’ve never seen anyone die, and I certainly don’t plan to. It’s just something my grandmother taught me.”
Octavia smiled. “Your grandmother sounds like she knows a lot about Maestro stuff. I’m almost kinda nervous to meet her.”
Viola’s fingers settled atop Octavia’s own comfortably. Her soft smile in return was a gift. “My grandmother is going to love you.”
“What are you guys whispering about?”
The Maestras parted with such force that Octavia, for a second time over, nearly traded her steady seating for the hardwood below. She almost screamed, startled as she was. Granted, their waitress had at least attempted to stifle her volume this time. The moment she had their attention, those efforts ceased instantly.
“Sorry about the wait!” the girl offered, her absurdly-full arms precariously loaded with outrageous quantities of food. Octavia couldn’t begin to imagine what would happen if she tripped. “Dinner is officially served!”
Given the sheer amount of neatly-sorted dishes that quickly crowded their little table, Octavia was left to eye the girl with equal parts awe and substantial concern. It was perhaps more concerning that she hadn’t even necessarily taken that long to prepare such a storm of entrees. “Is…all of this for us?” Octavia asked timidly.
Her energetic waitress winked, beaming. “Of course! I made all of it with love! If there’s anything else you guys need, let me know! I’ll be over right away!”
Octavia didn’t have a doubt in her mind, at this point.
The moment the cycle repeated, by which their questionable attendant had already darted well across the dining room once more, whatever unrecognizable dialect was leaving her mouth still carried yet the same enthusiasm. Really, she wasn’t alone--distracted as Octavia had been by the achingly abundant hospitality, there were yet a number more of tones and tongues she’d never captured slowly gracing her ears. Few were similar, and most were speckled.
She’d never seen much of the attire in the room, dripping in hues and patterns far from that with which she was familiar. She was careful in her staring, at least, for how her eyes most definitely passed from stranger to stranger in turn. No one called her on it. She doubted they would, given the steady volume of healthy conversation. It hardly mattered that she understood so little of it.
“Your food is going to get cold.”
Viola’s knowing grin was enough to make her blush. Octavia winced, throwing her eyes into one of her many soups.
“R-Right, sorry. I’m just a little…overwhelmed with being in a new place,” she apologized weakly.
“It shows,” Viola teased.
She blushed harder. She took it out on whatever salad was unfortunate enough to draw the stiff ire of her fork first. There was absolutely no way she was making it through the ridiculous sea of food the inn had blessed her with, beautiful and sizzling as every dish was regardless. She still did her best, appreciating the foreign flavors every step of the way.
She couldn’t quite tell if it was the delight that came with culinary experimentation or the tableside company that enriched her dining experience the most. Drowning in enough spice to alter her palate for life, Octavia’s first impressions of Minuevera were as delicious as they were overstimulating.