It was, possibly, Octavia’s fault for finding the concept of sparring to be fun. This might’ve been her retribution.

Viola seemed pleased enough about it, violent offer or not. Octavia stared, mostly. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she’d heard correctly, and the same endless smirk on Viola's face was an indication of little otherwise. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one.

“Wait, seriously?” Josiah asked, baffled.

Madrigal was practically sparkling. “Really, Viola?”

Renato’s best attempts to narrow his eyes were blighted by surprise--and, surely, by the pain that followed the effort. “Hold up, I thought we weren’t supposed to be taking shots at the Ambassador! Why does she get a pass?”

Viola was unfazed by the background input. Her attention rested solely on the Ambassador in question, her smirk still unbending as she crossed her arms over her chest. She shifted her weight onto one foot, tilting her head as she awaited an answer. Octavia gulped.

“You…want to fight with me?”

“Yeah.”

The initial shock of her offer gave way to a delicate panic that came with being flustered. “B-But I don’t want to hurt you! I-I don’t think I’d be very good at fighting like that, either!”

Viola laughed softly. “Not barehanded. We’ll use our instruments.”

That was actually worse. Octavia said as much. “That’s even more dangerous! My light is gonna get you hurt!”

Viola paused for a moment, raising one hand to her mouth in thought. “Can you temper it a bit?”

Octavia shook her head. “I’ve tried. If I could do it by now, I would. It’s hot. It burns. If it hits you, you’re gonna get hurt.”

“Then I’ll use mine, and you just…don’t use anything. How about that?”

This was getting ridiculous. “How is that fair?”

Viola grinned. “Trust me. I won’t let you get hurt. It’ll still be a fair fight. It's good practice, too.”

Octavia winced. “I don’t know about this.”

“Actually, I’m dying to see this one,” Harper murmured with a grin of his own.

Renato nodded in agreement. “Same, honestly.”

Octavia sighed. Now there was an obligation tethered to this, too. She really, really hoped Viola knew what she was doing. The last time she'd faced a Harmonial Instrument barehanded had nearly ended in total disaster. To make the same decision again--and of her own accord--was mildly horrifying.

“Save me,” she muttered to River.

There was something about the clarity of his gentle laugh that was slowly growing on her. “I can’t say I’m not interested. I finally get to see the Ambassador in action. I’ll cheer for you, don’t worry.”

“That’s literally the opposite of saving me.”

Viola wasn’t even giving her a chance to fully process the idea. Somewhere in the midst of Octavia's pleading, Silver Brevada had already found its way into scheming Soulful hands, shimmering beneath the autumn sunshine. Viola escaped her beloved shade, for once, delving into the warmth of the day in full as it crashed against her skin with love. She caught Octavia’s nervous eyes, pulling the girl along with her own wordlessly. Octavia groaned, briefly entertaining the idea of pleading her way out of wherever this was going.

It was with reluctant footsteps that she took her place opposite Viola, allowing herself a substantially more sizable gap than what Renato and Harper had adopted. It hardly mattered, given that Viola was already in the process of making it larger--and larger, and larger, and larger still. Every step she took backwards was even more confusing, widening their distance to such an extent that the Soulful Maestra was starting to shrink in her vision. Octavia raised an eyebrow. Viola, in turn, raised Silver Brevada.

“What are you doing?” she finally asked.

“You try to get over here, and I’ll push you back,” Viola clarified, an effort that necessitated raising her distant voice somewhat. “If you can take Silver Brevada from me, you win.”

Octavia blinked. “Do I…have a time limit?”

Viola shook her head. “Only until you give up, which you better not.”

“Doesn’t that mean I’m guaranteed to win?”

Viola only smiled brighter. “Are you?”

Even now, the prior mental image of enraged wind bruising her defenseless body was making Octavia mildly paranoid. “And you’re sure you’re not gonna hurt me?”

Again, Viola shook her head. “I promise. One of us is a lot less dangerous than the other.”

Octavia scoffed. “Liar. You’re a complete and total liar. I’ve seen what you can do firsthand.”

Viola shrugged. “When I want to. Different story entirely.”

“Are we placing bets again?” Josiah asked.

Harper had settled in comfortably next to River, pulling his knees up to his chest with a smile. “You already know who I’m betting on. My fearless leader’s got it covered.”

River chuckled. “No offense to Viola, but I don’t feel right betting on anyone besides the Ambassador.”

“I mean, she handled the barehanded thing surprisingly well last time,” Josiah said. “I’m sure she’ll do great again. I’m all in on Octavia.”

Octavia winced. “Please don’t bring that up.”

Viola only blinked. “Wait, what do you mean ‘last time’?”

The opposite party of the “last time” in question was wholly immune to the implications of Josiah’s words, instead clapping her hands together with delight once more. “You can do it, Octavia! Show us the true power of the mighty Ambassador!”

“Not all of us bet out of spite,” Renato called with a hint of hostility. “Show her what you’ve got, braids!”

Viola scowled. “It wasn’t out of spite, you idiot! I already knew he could fight!”

“Liar!”

Octavia’s face fell. “Wait, nobody’s cheering on Viola? That’s not fair. I don’t…want to be cheered for just because I’m the Ambassador.”

To her surprise, Viola only gave her a gentle smile. “It’s okay. I’m betting on you, too.”

Octavia’s heart skipped a beat. Nervous or not, she couldn’t fight a smile of her own.

Silver Brevada brushed against Viola’s lips without further hesitation. “Ready?”

Not particularly. Still, if it was what Viola wanted, she’d at least give it a shot. “R-Ready!”

Even tethered to what was a concerning idea, her shrill notes and trills were as crystalline and beautiful as ever. They didn’t come with ice this time, to Octavia’s utter shock. Instead, what swirled forth and threatened her path was far from impermeable. In a strange way, it was almost nostalgic. For once, Octavia got her turn with snow.

“That’s…new,” Josiah observed aloud.

In that quantity, she supposed. Hail was the closest Viola had ever gotten to anything so much as vaguely resembling a snowball, her flickering and fluttering snowflakes otherwise the only alternative. Now, instead, Octavia was greeted with both of the latter, the jarring juxtaposition of the flurry beneath the autumn sun stunning enough that she was outright distracted.

It wasn’t accompanied with quite the sharpened fervor of the blizzards she’d seen Viola breathe life into before, particularly given the razor-sharp crystals that usually laid in wait between the relentless storms. Still, it was enough to coagulate, once again reminding Octavia of her own tactic of accumulating excess light about herself as necessary. That, too, she’d seen Viola adopt in the past--albeit under more harrowing circumstances and harboring far more hostile intent. She wondered if Viola realized exactly how many stray snowflakes were getting tangled in her hair. It was pretty enough that she declined to point it out.

That left her with, ultimately, an absurd amount of snow that far surpassed what the Ambassador would’ve once expected from Viola’s lungs. If it was easier to make, it made enough sense. Viola did have a point--undoubtedly, snow was less lethal than ice.

When Viola only stared her down patiently, Octavia tilted her head. The sight of Viola’s shoulders moving slightly with the efforts of restraining a laugh were enough permission. Octavia smiled, she braced, and--against her better judgment--she ran. It was just snow.

“Just snow” hit a lot harder than she thought it would. It didn’t hurt, to be fair. Still, it was more than enough to knock her off of her feet. Whatever force Viola had put behind her carefully-crafted snowballs wasn't gentle with her as they slammed into her stomach, blasting her backwards on her first earnest approach. Octavia had hardly made a dent in the gap, at least a solid ten seconds-worth of sprinting awaiting her overall.

It took a little less than two of those for her body to meet the grass, a clumped duo of compacted snowballs enough to bar her path and splatter her dress with chilling white. Octavia groaned, more from surprise than pain. The sudden cold didn’t help, nor did the reactionary commentary from her unfortunately-gathered audience.

She pushed herself to her feet, doing what she could to assess exactly how much snow Viola had managed to manifest adjacent to herself. In the time it took her to stand up, she could’ve sworn there were even more clumps of vicious slush--somewhere around thirty, varying between the size of her fist to far larger than her head. Octavia gulped. Even so, she tried again, willing herself to move ever faster as her boots plunged deep into the grass below.

She wanted to believe she’d made it the slightest bit further, at least, before she was once again assailed in the exact same place on her body. In fact, she got a bonus, an extra assault of fluffy, compacted snow barreling straight into her chest. This time, to her chagrin, the impact with the ground was somewhat painful--if not solely due to the distance by which she was repelled. As to whether or not Viola was aware that it hurt, Octavia was unsure. She was starting to see why this was going to be a problem.

From her uncomfortable position sprawled out on the ground, Octavia raised her head slightly. Sure enough, the splotches of scattered white that painted the grass unwillingly were somewhat further out than those which had rolled off her dress on her initial approach. They served as solid markers of her distance, at least, if nothing else. Pushing herself back to her feet once more, Octavia prayed that each clump of snow wouldn’t burst against her even harder every time she moved closer. Her body didn’t particularly want an actual repeat of the Lyra situation.

Octavia tried yet again, her body low to the ground as she sprinted. She could still mostly see the trajectory of Viola’s attacks as she ran, even if the velocity of each snowball was difficult to track with her eyes. When the next one approached, hurtling towards her on a collision course with her chest once more, it was by sheer luck that she dodged. It took a wobbly sidestep to escape its path, the sound of chilly fluff scattering across the open field behind her a testament to a close call.

Octavia wasn’t as lucky with the second snowy assault. Once again, she was on the ground. She rolled her eyes.

“Just run faster,” she heard Harper tease distantly.

Octavia frowned. “Shut up.”

Even so, on her feet again, she was definitely closer. She hadn’t been repelled nearly as far versus before, despite her slightly impeded progress. There was a brief moment where she contemplated going all-out, forcing herself to absorb blow after blow and pick herself up again before Viola could react.

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That, ultimately, would come down to minimizing her recovery time between being knocked down and returning to a full sprint. This distance still warranted a solid eight more seconds of total acceleration. Annoying at best and painful at worst, it was worth a shot.

With a slight bounce on her heels in preparation, Octavia took off, resolving to dodge whatever hits she could and endure those she couldn’t. Viola’s aim would surely improve as she drew nearer--a fact she wasn’t ignorant to by any means. She kept her head low, her body following suit in the hopes that throwing her to the dirt would be trickier for Viola to accomplish.

Octavia dodged one, two, three of them that passed her by far too close for comfort. They were never quite aimed at her face, which she greatly appreciated. The fourth grazed her, her elbow clipping a chunk of accelerating snow in such a way that her arm was jerked backwards in turn. She nearly stumbled. As such, it was the fifth one that did her in, punctuated by the sixth for good measure.

Octavia put everything she had into tensing her lower legs, fighting to weigh herself down enough to resist the inevitable backslide that came with such force against her body. The sharp sting of cold against her skin, even through her clothes, was a distraction that served as an equal annoyance. The quantity of snow that had ended up coating her as it burst free was, admittedly, somewhat heavy in its own right. It took a significant amount of effort for her to shake it off. That in itself was enough to warrant the grunt of discomfort that came with a seventh clump of snow crashing down on top of her stomach.

She wasn’t sure what was worse--being blasted backwards, or being pinned to the ground by the most harmless fluff to ever leave Silver Brevada’s body. The not-so-distant sound of Viola laughing at whatever look was on Octavia’s face was somewhere between endearing and highly agitating.

Octavia’s flailing, humiliating as it was, was at least enough to escape the weight of white that peppered her dress and slid unceremoniously into the grass. It spared her the fury of an eighth snowball smashing into her chilled body in the span of a minute--although it had taken what little reflexes she’d possessed to successfully evade the collision. While not overly significant, enough sleet had slipped into her boots that freezing moisture was beginning to seep through her socks. It was miserable in a way that was motivating, in the sense that she very much wanted to be done with snow. Octavia loathed the wet, squishing sensation inside of her boots as she ran once more.

She stopped counting what flew at or past her in favor of focusing exclusively on avoiding their respective impacts. It was by no means getting easier with every pounding footstep, the sound of Viola’s soft projectiles ripping through the air adjacent to her limbs all too close for comfort. There wasn’t room to actually sweat, either from exertion or the woes of concentration. Enough of a chill had taken care of that long ago, and Octavia compensated instead with the sheer warmth of the blood rushing through her ears. Ever so slowly, even with her path as impeded by the false assault of winter as it was, she was getting closer and closer. Octavia got hit. She fell. She got up. She repeated.

No longer was she being pushed back. She'd more or less managed to get the general concept of resisting the knockback that came with impact. Even when Viola changed her tactics somewhat, pelting her in the knees and bombarding the soft patches of earth where her feet would next fall, Octavia still managed to either limit herself to a harsh stumble or recover from a fall relatively quickly. Silver Brevada’s song grew louder, yet another indicator of her steady progress. As irritating as aspects of this endeavor were, Viola’s frigid melody was beautiful enough that it compensated for her troubles somewhat.

She’d expected Viola to be more fearful, more apprehensive, and perhaps distressed over her impending defeat as Octavia stared her down. Even with the remainder of Viola’s snow raining upon her in excess, her carefully-developed method of salvaging and maintaining her forward movement wasn’t failing. Viola was no longer a dot on the horizon that was the sunny plain. She was a royal blue target that rapidly entered Octavia’s own field of attack, one hand outstretched preemptively to snatch a weapon that tormented her with snowy annoyance.

Octavia didn’t have to lunge. Viola wasn’t fast. She’d long since admitted it herself. The Soulful Maestra, even now, was laughing, turning sharply on one heel as she made the most feeble attempt to flee Octavia had ever seen.

“Cheater!” Octavia cried, although not without a smile she couldn’t suppress.

Whatever tiny quantities of snow Viola still held in reserve were abandoned the moment the flute left her lips, splattering gracelessly against the grass below with a slushy splash. Her flats had little traction, and she nearly slipped of her own accord in her best attempts to outrun the Ambassador--nearly four times faster than her, at least. She yelped at the sight of Octavia’s oncoming approach, stopping just somewhat short of a scream.

“I’m not cheating!” she called, laughing all the while.

“You weren’t supposed to move! You can’t just change the rules!”

“I just said you had to get Silver Brevada! I never said I couldn’t--”

It hardly mattered. Octavia got Silver Brevada anyway. She took the entire Maestra attached to the instrument along with it, actually, tackling her mercilessly to the grass as Viola cried out in surprise. Part of her was thankful for the way that neither of them hit their heads in the process of her doing so. The other part of her had to curb the mild embarrassment that came with ending up on top of Viola, the Soulful girl pinned beneath her without escape.

Her dangling braids brushed against Viola’s cheeks as the latter neared hysterics, laughing and giggling hard enough that Octavia could hardly help but do the same. Even with one hand on Silver Brevada, the quantity of laughter had her weak enough that she couldn’t quite bring herself to forcibly pry it out of the girl’s hand.

Octavia was distantly aware of the cheering, accompanied somewhat by whichever Maestro was bold enough to be taunting Viola in turn. She had a vague idea as to which one it was. It was irrelevant, and Viola’s captivating smile was her top priority. Octavia beamed. If this was enough to make Viola so happy, then it was worth her suffering.

Viola physically needed to wipe the tears out of the corners of her eyes post-hysterics before she could speak. “Nicely done, Miss Ambassador. I knew you could do it.”

Octavia was still having trouble stifling her giggles. “Why would you pick a fight you knew you’d lose?”

Viola grinned. “Because it was fun.”

Despite her initial apprehensions, Octavia didn’t particularly disagree. She sat up on her heels, releasing her grip on Silver Brevada as it flopped loosely back into Viola’s palm. With her other hand, she delicately tugged on Viola’s own.

“You know, snow still hurts if it hits you fast enough,” she complained as she pulled Viola to her feet.

“Maybe if you were better at not getting hit, you wouldn’t have to worry about that,” the Maestra teased.

“Great job,” Josiah offered, his voice softening somewhat as they made their return from their sunny, snow-splattered battlefield. “Knew you could do it. No offense, Viola.”

Viola shook her head. “None taken.”

“Would’ve been way cooler if you brought Stradivaria, not gonna lie,” Renato admitted. “Still, awesome stuff.”

Octavia winced at the thought. “Somebody would’ve gotten hurt.”

“Yes, and it would’ve been cool.”

Viola narrowed her eyes. “I’ll hurt you.”

Renato smirked. “I’m up for another fight, you know.”

“You don’t need to get humiliated twice in one day, I promise,” she hissed.

“You ever fought someone before? Like, fought fought? With your bare hands?”

She flushed. “I mean, no, but if Harper can learn from scratch, then so can I, I’m sure.”

Renato raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna learn enough to fight me?”

“Apparently, it’s not that hard to beat you,” she jeered harshly. He flinched.

Octavia laughed. Only now was the slightest hint of fatigue beginning to settle in, the discomfort of her wet socks clinging to her toes renewed with each conscious step. As fun as the ordeal was, it was equally as exhausting. It was the sound of soft, nearly-inaudible clapping that caught her attention, not so distant from the center of the action.

“Spectacular work, Ambassador,” River praised with gentle applause.

She smiled down at him, still highly comfortable in his spectator seating as he was. “I don’t…think that was the best indicator of what I’m capable of. I wouldn’t judge anything based on that.”

He shook his head. “I know, but it was still fun to watch. I’m just as interested to see you side by side with…Stradivaria, was it?”

His warm presence was just as inviting as the plush, available patch of grass beside him, and she took up refuge in the shade at his side in equal measure. “Yeah. I’m happy that you remembered, actually. And yours is, uh…Rene…gadria, right?”

River smiled gently. “Correct. I’m surprised that you remembered, too.”

“I might have a hard time remembering what Harmonial Instruments everyone is gonna have, but I…feel like I should at least try, as the Ambassador. Is that a weird goal to have?”

River tilted his head. “I don’t think that’s weird at all. If anything, that’s very noble of you. Do you remember all of your friends’ instruments?”

Octavia raised one pointed finger, her focus wandering in turn over each Maestro before her--including those still bickering. “Silver Brevada. Mistral Asunder. Lyra’s Repose. Royal Orleans.”

As to the latter, she hadn’t even realized Harper had gotten up until she’d bothered to identify his partner’s alias. Distantly, she could see him putting his hands on Viola’s shoulders, stealing her attention away from Renato. She didn’t even want to know.

“That’s impressive,” River praised once more.

“We had Etherion for a bit, but not anymore,” she continued. “Broken Bliss, too, but that one wasn’t really with us. It’s not so hard to remember the ones you see all the time.”

He nodded. “I could understand that. I can definitely say the same about the rest of the Ensemble, too. They’re a bit more…upstanding than your party, though.”

Octavia stifled a laugh. River winced, gesturing hastily with his hands. “I-I'm sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he apologized profusely.

She didn’t bother holding it in anymore. “No, no, you’re completely right. They’re a mess. We’re all a mess. I like that they’re a mess, though.”

River pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them tightly. “I kind of wish the Ensemble would do things like this, to be honest. Usually, when we spar, it’s much more…structured. You guys seem like you have a lot of fun together. I’m impressed by how close all of you are, too. You seem to know one another’s talents pretty well.”

Octavia wasn’t inclined to disagree. “We all met by coincidence, really. It’s funny to think about. We…didn’t really meet all that long ago, but I have trouble imagining being without them, at this point.”

“Move your arms back a bit,” she could hear Harper instruct from afar.

“They are back.”

“No, like, move your shoulders, too,” he corrected, adjusting Viola’s awkward posture gently.

“You guys talk like you’ve known each other for a whole lot longer than that,” River said softly. “Part of me doesn’t believe you.”

Octavia giggled. “I have trouble believing it sometimes, too.”

“Is it supposed to hurt?”

“Not at all. Relax your muscles a bit. You’re not gonna get anywhere if you’re that tense.”

Harper’s repeated pushing and pulling on every part of Viola’s body, apparently, did little to faze her--despite how much it confused Octavia. The pose it left her in, odd as it was to see her wear, was far less threatening than the Maestra surely would’ve liked it to be.

“You’re always welcome to hang out with us, if you want,” Octavia offered.

River’s eyes seemed to widen in the absolute slightest, even if his words were equally as steady. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Octavia shook her head with a gentle grin. “We’d love to have you. None of us would mind, I promise. If you’re ever lonely, you can always spend time with us. If that’s…too much, then you can always spend time with me. I’ll be here.”

At those words, his voice did fill with soft happiness. “I…wouldn’t be opposed to getting to know the Ambassador more, especially strategically.”

Octavia scoffed with a smirk. “Okay, from one leader to another, not everything has to be business. If you ever want to just have fun together, that’s an option, too. Or…even if you just want to talk.”

River's delicate smile did the talking, just as spirited as the boy who bore it to her. Octavia’s heart sang.

“Okay, now hit me.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you!”

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” Harper assured with a chuckle. “I’ll be alright. Go ahead.”

“Like…just punch you?”

“Like I showed you. It’s okay, just do your best.”

“I’m having second thoughts about this,” Viola whined.

“Listen,” Octavia murmured. “About earlier, I…I hope you know that there’s people who really do value you, even if you don’t know it. I can’t talk you out of doing whatever it is that you want to do, but I just want you to know that your life is precious.”

River rested his head against his knees. “It’s not that I don’t think it is. I know there’s people that care about me in their own way, too. This is just what I’m supposed to do. That’s why I have what I have, and why I can do what I do. I want to make the most of it.”

“Please, just…be careful,” Octavia pleaded quietly. “We haven’t known each other for long, but I care about you, too. Make sure to take care of yourself.”

He blinked slowly. “Spoken like a true Ambassador. Again, I’m honored.”

“Hit me!”

“But Harper--”

“Hit me!” Harper repeated with a laugh, his smile betraying the severity of his command.

“I--”

“Do it!”

It was his fault. He got exactly what he wanted in the worst way, Viola’s sloppily-concocted fist bashing surprisingly hard straight into his teeth. Harper's head jerked backwards sharply, and he groaned in pain. Madrigal outright screamed. Josiah’s snickering was just as brutal.

“Daaaaamn, Vi!” Renato cried with a far-too-elated grin, arms aloft in delight.

Octavia winced on Harper’s behalf. River did much the same. “On second thought, I don’t know if you’d get a whole lot out of our little mess,” Octavia muttered.

River laughed, the clear and peaceful sound she was growing to enjoy greeting her ears happily once more. “I’m sure whatever I get would be more than enough.”

“I meant, like, in the stomach,” Harper clarified, his words strained and tight in the wake of his pain.

The horror in Viola’s eyes as his hands settled gently over her own was almost comical. “Why didn’t you say that? I didn’t know! I’m sorry!”

“Do it again!” Renato cheered.

Between the commotion that came with the “mess” she’d come to love and the soft laughter not unlike that of sweet chimes at her side, Octavia couldn’t help but be drawn in by the latter. The constraints of time had never stopped her from developing friendships that would last her a lifetime. She didn’t know him well, not beyond the ominous barrier of his leadership position or the captivating songs that his partner sang to her.

Still, there was a gentleness behind the rich tides that gazed into her own eyes and the delicate laughter that she relished drawing out of him. It was true that, as the Ambassador, she was more than obligated to give him her attention in a strategic partnership for the good of their mutual goal. Regardless, he was just as human as she was, his legacy undoubtedly a testament to the real River beneath the surface.

Watching him smile was nice. Even at the cost of doubling up on the quantity of Spirited Maestros in her “inner circle”, it was surely the Ambassador’s privilege to make an exception.