There was absolutely no way Octavia was forsaking Mixoly two nights in a row.

She'd done her due diligence--or so she rationalized. Stratos had had his turn. She'd established previously that her "nightly walks" were routine, and she hoped that would count for at least something. Getting through the day with patience was the hardest part, her head buzzing nearly nonstop as she performed what little of her routine she'd come to expect. Octavia barely even remembered the toll, let alone the guiding portion. One of those was more than likely a good thing.

There was a chronic temptation that came with the setting sun and the slow dwindling of activity in her cottage, by which she was outright eager for all five of her companions to opt for unconsciousness as quickly as possible. Stratos didn't object, and his tiny plea for her to return safe was sufficient. Not an iota of true suspicion had yet to cross her, and it would take effort she lamented to keep it that way. The moment the moon was on its way up and into the heights of the blackened sky, Octavia was dying to leave. Tonight, she pushed her luck far too early, desperate to maximize her time. She nearly paid the price.

"Are you going somewhere?"

Octavia's hand was almost on the doorknob before she jumped, the sudden voice in the dark startling her fiercely. It still wasn't as bad as every time Theo seemed to find her. Her excuse was instinctive, readied on her lips like a weapon. It was by absolute luck that she made the decision to verify her interloper before she began to speak, given the order by which she would've met their eyes second. It was the worst possible person who could've caught her in the act, frankly, as she'd feared several times over.

Her stomach lurched. Octavia dropped to one knee, feigning a need to retie the laces of her boot. Her eyes trailed only along the leather, and she didn't dare look up. "Can't sleep. Sometimes, I go for walks at night when the weather's nice. It helps me clear my head, and it makes it easier to sleep. It's better than lying around thinking about stuff I don't…really want to think about."

The last part was pushing it. She was fishing for pity, and she knew she'd get it from him. When Octavia found the courage to look up at last, the soft hurt in his eyes was enough to affirm her success.

Harper tilted his head knowingly. "I get it. Try not to stay out too late, okay?"

"You're not my mom," Octavia joked. "Is that…coffee?"

He sipped. He nodded. "Yeah."

"At…night."

Harper shrugged. "It helps me sleep."

Octavia raised an eyebrow. "Coffee helps you sleep?"

He smirked. "Hey, I'm not judging you for wandering around at ten o'clock at night. Everyone's different. Let me enjoy my methods."

She, too, couldn't fight the smirk that came with a roll of her eyes. "You're so weird," she muttered.

Octavia could've sworn she heard him sipping even louder out of spite behind her on the way out. It was almost enough to make her laugh. There was a frustration that came with the limitations of his gift. He'd helped her practically put Samuel up against a wall. If he could do the same thing for Stratos, Octavia would owe Harper her life--literally, maybe. Impossible as the idea was, it still burned just to maintain her secrecy. It was Harper. It was just Harper. It was specifically Harper. Surely Mixoly would understand.

She was lucky with the moonlight, lucky with her pacing, and lucky with her routing, otherwise. Octavia's one and only pitfall had been at the cottage, and she was utterly spared of any further complications on the way there. She still knew, hypothetically, of at least one person on any given night to be out there with her. It left three more who didn't know of her routine excursions.

Running into Francisco again had the potential to be fatal. It absolutely could not happen. This would, hopefully, become an even easier task once the full moon stopped blessing her so fervently with its generous glow. She couldn't necessarily expect every single Maestro in Tacell to stay bound to their cottages each night forever. A bit of room for coverage would've been nice now and again, lest wandering eyes catch her in the worst way.

Octavia had the path to Theo's cottage largely committed to memory, at this point--although she didn't dare sprint to it at any given time. It did shorten the walk significantly, and for that, she was grateful. She didn't knock. She didn't hesitate. Whatever got her out of the vulnerability of the brightened night was most important. With one hand around the doorknob, she plunged into the dark with the Muse's name in mind alone.

Mixoly.

She remembered her promise. Inside of her heart, it was surely alright. Octavia knew better than to let the three syllables leave her lips otherwise, risking their safety in the open air. She was rewarded.

Ambassador.

Octavia breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled the door shut behind her. "Where are you?"

She hadn't particularly needed to ask. She realized it of her own accord moments later, her eyes snapping to the slight movement on the salon floor. She really, really wished Theo would just use the sofa. Instead, there he was again, content to curl up cross-legged on the rug alone. He didn't wave, acknowledging her presence only with a tilt of his head and calm eyes. At the very least, Octavia much preferred this to his previous hostilities. She still didn't look forward to getting stuck on the floor again.

I am here.

She'd already figured that part out, given the little piccolo cradled in Theo's palms once more. She didn't want to be rude about it.

"I…came back," Octavia clarified, well aware that she was stating the obvious. "I did what you told me. I tried to fake it. I spent a day trying to be casual. I spent time with Stratos, too. I-I didn't say anything, of course. I…wouldn't. I think it worked. I still don't think he suspects anything. He hasn't said anything to me, if he does."

Good.

The affirmation was all she received prior to the same lustrous, starry glow that she'd adored several days before. Theo didn't so much as turn around, content to let the Muse's shimmering visage bless the open air. Once more was the moonlight streaming through the curtains challenged by her radiance, and Octavia enjoyed it just as much as last time. To see her less hesitant was wonderful in and of itself. For all of her talk of trust, Mixoly's own trust in the Ambassador felt good.

"And you are safe?" Mixoly asked softly.

Octavia nodded. "I'm okay. Nothing's happened."

The Muse nodded in turn. "Good," she repeated.

The silence that settled between them for a moment was as comfortable as it was awkward. Octavia shifted slightly, and not solely because the rug was already irritating her calves. "I…I tried to get Stratos to talk. I was careful about what I said. Your Lord of All, Ramulus. Stratos said he'd…call for me, when the time came. I still don't completely get what that means."

"There is no risk in him admitting as much," Mixoly clarified. "It would make sense. Our Lord must look to the Ambassador if he wishes to return to Above. His own grace in this realm would not suffice in full, as it has not thus far."

"What do you mean?"

Already, Mixoly was hesitating. It hadn't taken long, although Octavia knew she'd begun to batter the Muse with questions almost immediately upon return. That much was expected. "It was all our Lord could do to simply stifle what had occurred. He was not spared of the Descent. He, too, must be guided to Above, much the same as the others."

"The Descent," Octavia repeated experimentally.

"By which they are here," Mixoly added on her behalf.

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Octavia picked at a stray thread escaping the rug absentmindedly. "He told me a story, a while ago. Both of them did. I met Ramulus once, I think. He was…I mean, I didn't see him. I heard his voice from a girl named Rani. It felt like a dream."

"Go on."

Mixoly's push was as gentle as it was surprising. Octavia obliged regardless. "My life was in danger. Instead of dying, I woke up on a…shoreline of some sort. There were people there, like a little village I've never seen. I was really upset about something, and when it all came back to me, I was so overwhelmed by the Dissonance that I thought I'd die that way instead. That girl saved me. Ramulus told me a story that didn't make a lot of sense at the time, but Stratos told me again later. He said Stratos' name. It was the first time I'd ever heard it. He said I'd…be the one."

With the words on her tongue, she eyed Mixoly uncomfortably. There was no judgment or insistence of the truth, and Octavia's initial revelation had long since slashed her heart open. Octavia was thankful for her kindness. She sighed.

"I woke up," she continued, "or, at least, that's what it felt like. I was alive, and I was safe, and I was right back where I was when my life was at risk. I haven't had that experience ever since, or even anything like it. If Stratos hadn't talked to me about it, I would've been convinced it was a dream forever."

"It was no dream," Mixoly offered with a shake of her head. "That certainly sounds like him. Of the story he told, what did it entail?"

For having heard it twice over, she remembered significantly more of it in Stratos' voice than Rani's. Even that wasn't enough to cover everything she knew she should've recalled. Octavia still tried anyway. "Something about how the world was made. Where once was none came all, I think Stratos said. Then there was…She Who Brought the World to Ruin, and this 'she' destroyed whatever they'd made together. Ethel said that's how Dissonance was born, too. Anyway, they were…dragged down here, somehow, all ninety-six of them--he said ninety-six, at least. Now, they're waiting to go back, and they'll make it to Above, someday. It was worded a lot more nicely than that, but that's what I remember of it."

Mixoly was quiet. Ever so subtly, Octavia caught the way Theo's eyes flickered upwards towards the Muse in the wake of her silence. It didn't last too long.

"As to your…encounter with Lord Ramulus, you will surely encounter him once more. That our Lord and Stratos should gift you with the same succinct tale of our struggles so fancifully spoken should illustrate their bond. It is as I have said, Ambassador. Distance is no matter."

Although she knew the words had left her lips dozens of times in Mixoly's presence, Octavia found herself asking the same question time and time again. "What do you mean?"

Mixoly took that question with patience each time. Octavia thanked every star in the sky. "For those of his own blood, those in whom his utmost confidence rests, his voice carries far. Even now, Stratos has surely heard his words time and time again, no matter where our Lord may await your presence. He is more than likely not the exception, as I have also stated of the Heartful."

Octavia blinked. "Stratos can talk to Ramulus? Or, uh, Lord Ramulus?"

Mixoly nodded. "And he will relay all he may witness, such that every action of the Ambassador is kept under the shining light of our Lord."

"He tells him everything I do?" she interpreted with slightly more alarm.

"Tell me, Ambassador," Mixoly began, "how often do you hold his vessel close?"

Octavia fidgeted. "Pretty often. Really, really often, honestly."

Even blank as it was, she wasn't a fan of the look Theo was giving her. She couldn't pin it down. Anything short of hostility in his eyes had been difficult to interpret recently. It still lingered on her for far longer than she was comfortable with.

"Are you aware, my child, that we…see as you do?"

"What?"

Mixoly gestured vaguely towards Theo, the brunt of her motion largely angled at the piccolo delicately enclosed in his palms. "There are limitations that accompany the vessels to which we are bound. In the hands of our own, we may be privy to their eyes and the sights bestowed upon them. When my vessel would languish, this realm is dark and empty. It is by the grace of this beloved child that I should see the world as he does."

Octavia's eyes widened. "You…see through his eyes."

"Upon his touch alone."

"That's…"

"So I will rephrase, then," Mixoly continued. "Knowing this, how often has Stratos seen as you have?"

She froze. She was afraid to consider, and equally as afraid to sift through her memories with him for discrepancies. "I-I mean, a…lot, I guess. He's almost always with me. If I'm not holding Strad--if I'm not holding his vessel, he's at least in a case on my back or nearby. I'm so used to holding him that I've never really thought about it. I'd assume he's seen everything."

"He needs not a form to steal with his gaze," Mixoly insisted. "Each time you hold him close, be on your guard. Plan carefully, Ambassador."

Every instance of warmth that she'd found in her heart with Stradivaria in her arms was dashed in an instant. Every memory of the mahogany against her cheek, the sleek sensation of the bow's handle between her fingers, the rugged strings biting gently into her fingertips, all were for naught. To be fair, she'd had little to hide--at least consciously. Under different circumstances, she might've found the revelation an opportunity for them to grow closer with love. Octavia had little love left in her heart for Stratos anymore, and it burned as what was left leaked out drop by drop every day.

"Do you ever talk to Ramulus, Mixoly?" she tried, somewhat desperate to change the subject.

Only long after the question had left Octavia's mouth did she realize her alias-free folly yet again. It was becoming an extremely poor habit, particularly given that such a gentle moniker in lieu of the Muse's true name had been her idea in the first place.

Mixoly didn't honor her--as to both her inquiry and mistake alike--with body language, affirmative or otherwise. "I cannot, nor would I. I have once stated that I am an exception to the way by which all is to be."

Octavia weighed pushing her again. She opted to try, whether or not she succeeded. "I know you said you're an exception. I know you said you're special. You act differently than every other Muse I've ever met. I'm not even supposed to be talking to you, you said. They've got you…isolated like this. They've got Theo isolated like this."

"This child is protecting me."

Octavia's eyes drifted down to the Heartful Maestro. The mention of his name did nothing to faze him, and he only gifted his soft gaze to Mixoly above. His hands were silent, just as he'd been for their whole conversation. Given how little he'd reacted to each and every one of Mixoly's bold claims, Octavia was baffled at how much he may have already known.

"But what is he protecting you from?" she pressed. "Why are you an exception?"

Mixoly was silent. It was frustrating. For as much as Octavia wanted to be grateful for what excessive insight the Muse had gifted her with, so much went unspoken that the thirst to push was unquenchable. She briefly wondered if she was overstepping her bounds--although a lack of hostility on Theo's part quashed that fear somewhat.

"Bear witness to the toll," Mixoly spoke softly at last, "and all will be clear."

Octavia couldn't help the way her eyes widened once more. "You…want me to perform the Witnessing?"

"If possible."

She nodded. "I don't mind."

"You do not understand my words."

Octavia tilted her head. "What?"

Mixoly averted her faceless gaze. "It will not be that to which you are accustomed. Know this to be true. I cannot offer my aid for this task alone, Ambassador."

"I've…seen a lot of tolls," Octavia insisted. "I've been through a lot. No matter how bad it is, I can do it if it's for you."

Mixoly didn't answer her. The fleeting glance she exchanged with Theo was between the two alone, somewhat unsettling to observe from afar. Octavia couldn't pinpoint why. If he spoke with his heart, she'd been certain she could eavesdrop on Mixoly's responses. Instead, they were speaking solely with their gazes. It was a bond Octavia had never seen before.

"I will invite you to attempt, Ambassador," Mixoly said gently.

Her phrasing aside, Octavia nodded. "I'll do my best."

The silence Mixoly returned to her was permission enough. She inched her way across the rug with such gracelessness that her knees burned, and she immediately regretted it. Octavia was exceedingly grateful that Theo didn't take the opportunity to belittle her in any capacity. The way he only offered her the same blank stare all the way through her wincing wasn't too comforting, in truth. She did what she could to compose herself as she sat on her heels, flexing her fingers several times for good measure.

"Do you know how many tolls you have?" Octavia asked him tentatively.

The Heartful boy didn't hesitate. He raised one finger aloft.

"You're…sure?"

He nodded slowly.

Octavia paused. "Do you know…who it is?"

Again, Theo nodded.

"And you're…sure of that?"

Once more, he did the same.

Octavia tensed. Witnessing the toll of a child never failed to make her nauseous, and this was no exception. She raised her eyes to Mixoly tentatively, and Theo emulated the motion.

To Octavia's surprise, it was Mixoly who was the most hesitant of all. Never once had she seen a Muse so timidly give permission for their own path to salvation.

"Theo Senz," she spoke meekly after far too long, "your toll has been paid once over. Now, Ambassador, see through the eyes of the one who paid the toll."

For the supposed "exception" that Mixoly was, cryptic as her claim had been, her road to guidance had started off identically to those of her counterparts. A toll was a toll. A Harmonial Instrument was a Harmonial Instrument. Fundamentally, she was the same. She was a Muse, and Octavia knew the motions. She'd go with what she was used to. If that didn't work, she'd figure out the rest when she got there.

Octavia didn't need to gesture for her turn with Miracle Agony. Theo had already taken the initiative, cradling the little piccolo before the Ambassador in his upturned palms. He met Octavia's eyes with quiet complacency, studying her each and every move neutrally. It was as unnerving as it was comforting. She preferred this disposition to a child she would have to fight to reassure throughout the process. Much of Octavia still lamented that he was in this position at all.

She was taking too long, apparently. Theo's eyes flickered downwards into his hands before locking with hers once more. Octavia flushed.

It was with more of a sigh than a deep breath that she tentatively settled her fingers onto the instrument he carried with such care, warmed by his extensive touch alone. In the dark of the room, with only Mixoly's graceful glow and the moon to weakly compete in her wake, the depths that Octavia surrendered to weren't as off-putting as usual. In her last moments of lucidity, there was a comfort that came with Heartful company on her way down. It was a thought almost bright enough to compensate.

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