Praise for her, in his voice, was making her feel much warmer than it should've.

"I'm…Octavia," she murmured.

"And for the second time, it is a pleasure to meet you, Octavia."

Octavia beamed. She offered him a deep curtsey, pinching the edges of her dress. "Do you want me to call you Stratos from now on?"

For a moment, he was motionless. When he bowed in return, it was enough for her heart to race yet again. She couldn't help it, left to watch as his radiant hand came to settle over a radiant heart of his own--unseen as it was. "You may call me whatever brings you joy," he offered, his tone as pleasant as his actions.

"You will call me by my true name, only, then," came a brazen voice she was beginning to grow used to.

The blue one was talking to her, for once. She was distracted enough by her own partner that she almost didn't notice. His bow was nothing if not dramatic, by comparison. "You may address me as Brava. It would do you well to remember."

His gaze fell abruptly to Viola. Only then did she finally pull Silver Brevada close to her heart, her skittish body language betraying her poor attempts at exuding a calm demeanor. Octavia could swear she saw the Maestra begin to sweat beneath his eyeless gaze, summer sun be damned.

"As to my partner," he spoke confidently, "would you return the favor?"

Viola cleared her throat with the most pitiful cough Octavia had ever heard. She managed a surprisingly-steady curtsey of her own regardless, and it was impressive. "V-Viola Vacanti," she stammered, her voice cracking. "A pleasure to work with you."

The deep hmm Viola's partner returned lacked the warmth of Stradivaria's--Stratos', rather--in a way that came somewhat unsettling. The introduction was still good enough for him, apparently. "Indeed."

Not once had Octavia ever seen Madrigal in such absolute bliss, even in her most adoring moments with Renato. Her voice oozed pure happiness, sweet and overflowing. "Lyra," she murmured dreamily, "you know who I am, right?"

Her lovely partner gave a gentle laugh, a beautiful and graceful sound laced with love in its own right. "My Magical Madrigal, of course. And you would know me in turn."

Madrigal nodded fervently, one hand cast skyward towards her companion above. "Madrigal and Lyra, together at last!"

The gesture of Lyra, ultimately fruitless as it may have been, tenderly cupping Madrigal's hand between two radiant appendages warmed Octavia's heart. She enjoyed her own smile, warm on behalf of a different partner entirely.

"It's nice to meet you."

Harper's soft voice paired well with the silence of his partner, still holding fast to salutations of their own. Were it herself, Octavia would've been intimidated. She knew Harper's heart better than that.

It took several seconds of gentle eye contact to encourage a response. When his luminescent companion did so at last, Octavia was impressed by the way her voice practically mirrored Harper's own in volume and intent. The cadence, too, was delicate and feminine in a way that stood apart from Lyra's own.

"You are…unique," she spoke, her voice somewhat monotone. Still, her words were touched by something tender.

Harper's eyes widened somewhat. His soft smile never wavered, regardless. "Is that a bad thing?"

She was silent for a moment before continuing. "What would you like me to call you?"

Harper beamed in earnest. "Harper," he replied simply.

The petite figure bowed, muted by comparison to her radiant companions. A simple downward tilt of her head and folded fingers were enough. "I am called Orleanna."

"That's a lovely name," Harper praised.

"Thank you," came her flat answer. Even so, her monotone expressions didn't conceal just the slightest hint of satisfaction that crept into her words.

"And as to you two," Brava began, his voice plagued by dissatisfaction, "will you inconvenience us all ever further? Let us simply complete our pleasantries at last. Your selfishness becomes you."

His pointed words fell to no one, at first. It wasn't until words equally pointed erupted in aggravation that Octavia found a fifth brilliant being, and yet more disorientation that came with it. She found a sixth shortly after. She raised an eyebrow.

Renato didn't have one partner, apparently. He had two, and neither would face him.

"Man, what the hell is going on anymore?" he nearly shouted, throwing his arms high in exasperation. With one stick still tightly entangled in five respective cherry oak fingers, Octavia was pleasantly surprised he hadn't outright launched them in the shock of the moment. "You two are supposed to be my partners? Can we confirm or deny that, please?"

There were two silhouettes born of light before him, and that was the first surprise. They were odd in other ways, mismatched with four luminous companions bound to calmer Maestros. Milky brilliance was of a different style than Stradivaria's own, the gentlest of ivories traded for stark whites in turn. Where he was a glowing star, they were the most patient of comets, sleek and marred by hints of silver.

They were small, and Octavia could hardly perceive them as adults--provided she was supposed to be assigning them ages at all. If the others were expressive by body language alone, then those that floated aloft outdid them tenfold. Of what humanity their company had missed, they made up for in excess with every movement. They didn't offer many in the first place. Really, they didn't offer Renato anything but their backs.

He winced, his eyes darting to each surrounding radiant presence pleadingly. "Hey, you guys, are they supposed to be ignoring me? Everyone else got a warm welcome."

"Cease your impudence," Lyra snapped, casting her harsh gaze towards the pair. "Show respect for your partner."

"In regards to what?" one asked, a timbre simultaneously shrill and smooth. Octavia could sort the others neatly, slotted into variable masculinity or gentle femininity. Right now, she couldn't choose either one.

"There is little to respect," came the other silhouette aglow, each word tinted by a pitch slightly higher.

"Nice to meet you, too," Renato grumbled. "Yo, Harper, can we trade?"

Harper chuckled. "I'm partial to mine, sorry."

"Do as you will, then. Your introductions will not be your own," Brava said, his voice laced with irritation.

"Mente and Aste. Forgive their foolishness," Lyra apologized, bowing to Renato in turn.

Renato crossed his arms, the tips of both drumsticks just barely snagging the edges of his vest. "Seriously? What the hell is their problem?"

"He is hardly worth calling our own," one answered. Whether it was Mente or Aste, Octavia was unsure.

"How, uh…how can you tell them apart?" she asked aloud.

Stratos sighed. "The higher tone is that of Aste."

"What do you mean 'your own'?" Renato muttered. "I don't belong to anyone, least of all you two."

"You are arrogant," one spoke again. Lower as it came, Octavia dismissed it as Mente.

"And brash," Aste added.

"Stubborn."

"Reckless."

"Ignorant."

"Ill-mannered."

"Good God, you guys have some big mouths," Renato spat. "No, seriously, anyone wanna switch?"

"Think nothing of it," Lyra comforted. "Their words are empty. If they truly refuted your touch, you would know not their alias."

Renato relaxed his arms somewhat. "Alias?"

"They wouldn't have told you their name," Josiah offered. He seemed comfortable enough, lounging on the remains of a tree stump with surprising poise. Granted, he was more or less uninvolved, left to watch calmly.

The irritation on Renato's face melted into something smug. He settled on a small smirk. "Oh. They're shy, then? Talkin' big to cover it up?"

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"Nothing of the sort," Mente growled.

"Ahh," Renato teased. "You really do like me."

"Come off it."

"Aww, you guys are kinda cute."

"You are nothing."

"I'm 'your own', apparently."

"Can we pause this for a second?" Viola groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I already have a headache. What exactly is happening?"

Again, Stratos seemed almost to sigh. "It is your leader that has given us form and shared our voices with those she treasures."

"L-Leader?" Octavia stammered with a wince.

"Our brave and fearless leader," Harper joked, hands on his hips in jest.

Viola, too, couldn't keep herself from teasing. "'Treasures', huh?"

"Stradivaria!" Octavia hissed under her breath, more than embarrassed. His unresponsiveness only served to stress her further.

"She still uses his nickname," Josiah said with a smirk. "Cute."

Octavia tugged violently at her braids. Fighting the blush was impossible. She wanted to curl up and die.

"It is through her heart that we stand before you," Stratos went on, oblivious to his partner's plight. "Such is her gift."

"Laying it on a bit thick, aren't we?" Octavia muttered, still clutching her braids for dear life.

He shook his head. "I mean as I say. You and I are one and the same."

Her puzzled expression was permission to continue, one hand sweeping over each Maestro in turn. "As are you all, of each to whom your bond is true. From their own blood do you descend."

"Aren't you guys, like, made out of light?" Josiah asked, crossing his legs comfortably. "What blood?"

Brava chuckled. "I suppose 'blood' means not the same to you, boy, as to us. Just as well, do you truly think we would stand before you in this manner of our own accord?"

"Were it not for this child, perhaps it would not be light," Lyra added. "Although there is no precedent as to the contrary, nor would there be."

Viola blinked. "It's her light powers, then? That's why?"

"And to think we were this close to fire people," Harper joked.

"'Light powers', did you say?" Brava asked. "Is this truly the phrase you have chosen?"

"Now, Brava," Lyra chastised. "You could not expect otherwise."

Harper tilted his head. "Is there a name for them, then? The…things we can do?"

"I must have misheard, did you refer to them as powers of that child's own? I cannot help but laugh," Brava continued.

"Brava!" Lyra snapped.

"Legacies," Orleanna spoke softly. The sound of her voice, juxtaposed against her louder companions, was jarring.

When she declined to continue, Renato reached out. "Legacies?"

"You of the Strong," Stratos offered, one finger pointed sharply at Renato. "He who Orleanna calls her own, one of the Willful."

When Stratos' gesture shifted accordingly to Harper, the boy's eyes widened. Octavia was absolutely not immune to the same. The words were achingly familiar.

"She is of the Spirited," he went on, indicating Madrigal in turn. "Brava's own, she is--"

"Stop."

One flat palm was a plea for silence. Stratos obliged. Where Viola raised her hand, he lowered his own.

"What is it, child?" he asked.

"Before you tell me," Viola began, "is it, by any chance, something to do with souls?"

She knew, too. It left nothing but Octavia's eyes cast high, tethered to Stradivaria in suspense.

It took him far too long to nod. "You of the Soulful, it is true."

And when he turned to face her at last, Octavia knew what was to come. She beat him to it, somewhere between confident and not.

"And me, it's…something to do with hearts, right?" Octavia asked timidly.

He hummed in soft satisfaction once more. What anxieties she'd had melted instantly, just as they had every time prior. "My own of the Heartful. You know more than I would have anticipated. How is this true?"

"I may take credit for that folly, I believe," Brava confessed. "One from my past may have spoken of such. She was always one to hold her secrets close. I suppose something has changed, to that end."

Viola's grin was instant and explosive. "Do you remember her?"

Brava laughed, a hearty sound with a volume that initially startled Octavia. "How could I forget, girl? Her size spoke to nothing of her skill. She was a fine one, undeniably."

The pride reflected on Viola's face was contagious, and Octavia couldn't battle a smile. It was the first true satisfaction she'd seen from luminescence so boisterous. If it left Viola aglow in her own way, she could perhaps tolerate him after all.

Renato, immune to the moment, scoffed. "Took damn long enough to give it a name."

"When you say it's Octavia's 'gift', then, what do you mean?" Josiah asked.

Stratos crossed his arms. "It is solely the gift of those of the Heartful that we may be shared with this world."

"So let me ask something, then," Harper began.

When he paused for a moment, so did every voice around him. "Who are you, exactly?"

"Sincerely, where did you even conceive of the phrase 'Harmonial Instruments'?" Brava chided. "The terms you children cling to are utterly asinine."

"Brava," Lyra warned, her tone sharp once more.

"We are Muses," Orleanna murmured. Soft as she spoke, it again took effort for Octavia to catch her words. She was grateful for the echo Madrigal provided.

"Muses?"

"We who breathed life into all," Lyra clarified. "Perhaps you possess another term in your own tongue."

Josiah sighed. "I have one idea, but I'm gonna sound seriously stupid if I'm wrong. Can you…clarify a bit more first?"

She nodded. "Where once was none came all, and so, too, came we. From then, this world was born. It is by our touch that this realm should--"

Exasperated, Josiah buried his face in his hands. "Okay, apparently, I'm right. You're gods."

Viola fell silent. Eventually, she raised an eyebrow. "That…doesn't even make sense. An hour ago, you were musical instruments. Why would…gods be spending all their time in flutes and violins?"

"It is…a tragic tale," Lyra sighed.

"No, hold up, we're not letting that go," Renato spoke, waving one drumstick back and forth dramatically. "Gods. You're serious?"

"You chose that term yourselves," Brava reminded.

"Like, gods gods? 'Creators of the world and everything in it' kind of gods? 'Heaven and Hell' kind of gods? You're full of it."

"You do not believe us," Orleanna spoke plainly.

"Kind of a big thing to drop," Harper added. "I mean, earlier today I was pretty sure you were a magical trumpet."

"We are not truly the first," Stratos offered. "There is one above, our Lord of All."

Josiah closed his eyes, well beyond exasperated. "Okay, so there's a…god god. On top of more gods. And that works…how, exactly?"

"I think you may be believing we are something that we are not," Lyra said.

"So you're not gods, then," Viola attempted to clarify.

"Again comes that phrase," Brava spoke, agitation just barely beginning to touch his words.

Viola was starting to match with her partner, in that way. "Are you or are you not?"

Stratos was grasping at what order remained. Octavia could hear it in his voice. "Once again, we are Muses. We are all that is and all that will be. Although this is the form by which your leader perceives us, it is not our truth. We are the wind, the flames, the glaciers, and the storms upon this realm. We are the very sounds that grace those of this world.

"Stradivaria," Octavia murmured, "you're…sound? I don't understand. I can't wrap my head around what you are."

"Need you know what I am to hear my words?" he asked softly. If she squinted, he almost sounded concerned.

She shook her head. Ultimately, he was right. The sooner she stopped thinking about it, the better. It still bothered her, regardless.

"You will surely not be satisfied with whatever answers we offer you," Brava scoffed. "View us as you will, but do have the decency to call us what we are. Are you listening, girl?"

His pointed gaze fell to Viola. She bristled. "Why did you single me out?"

"Lyra is Lyra, and that's all that matters," Madrigal said with a smile, still content to lock loving eyes with her partner. "As long as she's with me, I couldn't be happier."

"Wish I could say the same," Renato grumbled, glaring at his two neglectful partners. Even now, they still shunned his existence aloft. "It's starting to get a little less cute."

"Octavia, are you overwhelmed?" Stratos asked.

His attention drifted to her, the concern in his tone seeping directly into her heart. It was a phenomenal feeling, and she adored it. She shook her head fervently. "I'm okay. I can keep going. I'll take whatever you have."

"And as to your companions?"

She smiled. "It's their fault for coming with me. They earned this, too."

He hummed again. "Very good. You've done well thus far."

"Thank you, I--"

"But know this," he warned, "what is to follow is unpleasant. I would…not blame you if you wish to rest after hearing my words. For your own sake, I implore you to be honest. There is no shame in returning to this endeavor another day."

Octavia chuckled. "You're building this up so much that I'm starting to get curious."

He made no acknowledgement of her jest. The faceless stare he gave her instead was more uncomfortable than it should've been, bound to a moment equally loaded. She didn't especially like it.

"To all," he announced, his smooth voice both broad and composed, "I implore you to listen. To the Soulful child, more than any."

Viola quickly raised her head, stiffening silently beneath his words. He continued.

"That which pervades this realm, suffering that should never have tainted your world. It can be cleansed. Know this to be true."

Her face was wonderful. Her happiness was contagious, preceded by shock or otherwise. Her mouth was agape, her tears almost instant as they fled down her cheeks. They were excessive, and Octavia couldn't blame her. Four smiles flanked her, coupled with their own shock and surprise. They were immediately irrelevant by comparison. Viola was wordless, shaking with such vivacity that Octavia feared she'd collapse. She considered running to catch the Maestra. She considered running to embrace her in general. She'd spoken of Stradivaria's claim by proxy before. To hear it from his own lips was different. To see the sheer relief in her eyes was worth it. That, alone, was nearly enough for Octavia to cry, too.

"Even so, know that there is a price to pay."

It was an eternal smile. Octavia could cling to it for just as long. For the affirmation alone, given the salvation of Viola's heart, it was all she could do to thank Stradivaria. She turned to him with words of gratitude on her lips, her own grateful sparkle outdoing even the radiance that he was.

Octavia never made it that far. He turned to her first.

"And it will fall upon you."

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