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?”
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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.