It took him a lot longer than it should've to take the assignment as a compliment. [♪]

If there was a God to thank for the traction he found underfoot, the earth beaten to a pulp beneath every rapid step, then he would fall to his knees and pray as soon as he could. Splitting his focus was a challenge he hadn't had the opportunity to master in full. It was a trial by fire that saw his eyes overhead, frontwards, and upon the ground below. It wasn't often that he ran in anything besides straight lines. For all Octavia had entrusted him with, it was the least she could do to watch him try his best. Harper hoped she wasn't too distracted to share her eyes with him every now and again.

There was absolutely no point in playing from afar. He knew with certainty that his flames wouldn't reach--not in the time they took to flicker to life and voraciously thrive on what oxygen they could claim. Plasma was faster than him by a longshot, every deadly crackle that preceded an earth-shattering strike born almost instantly by comparison. Mint had an advantage. She had several, and Harper was slowly counting up every single one as he leveled his breathing.

The size of her instrument, light and nimble, was perfect for her, nearly an extension of her fingers that she controlled with extreme skill. Every sharp twist and slight flick of her wrists brought with it deceptively-delicate rattling and impossibly-loud bolts of radiance. Mint's aim was dead-on, and Harper was slowly starting to understand why Octavia had placed him where she had. Outrunning lightning was no common feat. Even he wasn't sure how long he could keep it up.

In one hand, he kept Royal Orleans low at his side. The risk of conductivity was a concern he couldn't shake, and the idea of accidentally turning Orleanna into a makeshift lightning rod was terrifying. With the other hand, he adjusted his cap. Orleanna had bigger concerns, more than likely.

"Orleannaaa," he heard, a voice that had spoken her name with such charismatic glee not so long ago. "That you would stand to oppose me is the finest flattery! To what do I owe the pleasure? Do you battle for my affection, perhaps? It would be given freely, should you simply ask!"

Even in the midst of his dead sprint, his attention torn in every direction as he quite literally ran for his life, Harper still found time to smirk. He didn't dare spare the breath to ask aloud. Okay, what is the relationship between you two, seriously?

He could've sworn he heard Orleanna outright growl, even internal as it was. Indescribable.

Crack. One of the bolts that hailed upon the earth was far too close for his liking, and it was subsequently too close a call. He was sweating, and not from effort alone. Every strike wasn't even slightly an empty threat, for how near they came to his head. He was fully convinced that Mint was actively trying to kill him. Of all four Ensemble members, Harper genuinely wondered if every last one was this bloodthirsty. It wasn't as though he had the breathing room to check.

Orleanna's voice, irritated or not, was calming. He clung to it as he struggled to close the gap. Try me.

Mint was definitely getting closer, stationary as she was. Harper had a feeling it wouldn't last, although he couldn't pinpoint exactly why. She didn't let up. Neither did he, even when he spotted the steady streams of blood trickling down the corners of her mouth. He didn't have time to question it.

She believes we are connected in a way that we are certainly not, Orleanna clarified, her soft voice notably firmer and more annoyed than usual. It was cute.

The Essenced girl was close enough. There was a very real risk of taking lightning straight to the face. He tensed accordingly, should he need to dodge at a moment's notice. Slowly, Harper took Royal Orleans in both hands, settling his fingers into position. You don't like her like that?

I am of the belief that the Ambassador made this choice out of spite, Orleanna practically grumbled.

Harper resisted the urge to laugh. It still got a solid grin out of him, even as he pulled the instrument to his lips. Just tell her you're not interested.

I assure you, my child, I have tried.

You're so popular, he teased. You're really pretty. I don't blame her. Maybe I'd be the same way, in her shoes.

The tiny sound of amusement that Orleanna offered him was as meek as it was warm. It was endearing, far preferable to her irritation. I adore you, my child, but I do not believe we are compatible in that manner.

This time, even with Royal Orleans in position, he really did laugh. Don't worry. My heart is spoken for, anyway.

There was a moment where Harper caught Mint's eyes, flashing as dangerously as the lightning she birthed with every little motion. In no way did he have the upper hand. He at least had something to work with, gaining on her so rapidly that he'd set a full-on collision course. For how small her instrument was, hitting her hands alone was going to be a challenge. Incapacitating her was also an option. Given the drawbacks of the will of fire, it still left him just as deadly as Mint. It wasn't a particularly pleasant feeling, and burning people wasn't a fun concept. He was running out of ideas that wouldn't get him electrocuted.

He didn't have to worry about the lightning bolts anymore, at least. She stole them back with a vengeance the moment he came too close. Instead, the electricity that had threatened to strike him down now graced her with an elegance he could hardly define. It pulsed, it sizzled, and it sparked vibrantly as it embraced her with fervor.

Mint herself was practically a lightning bolt, a spark of her own that thrived under the weight of the shocking plasma trailing down her limbs. The golden jolts that twisted and curved along her skin were nearly audible, crackling to such a degree that Harper genuinely feared for his safety if he made contact. He was floored she was safe, given how close every blinding beam seemed to cross by her vital organs. Up close, she was most definitely bleeding from the mouth alone. It wasn't gentle. To be fair, neither was she.

Where Harper could've sworn he had an edge in speed, Mint tested him again.

The moment she moved, she was perhaps as fast as the lightning in her blood. She was equally swift in other ways, more than capable of tumbling and twisting as necessary out of the way of everything he could give her. His eyes widened to such a degree that he nearly lost his focus, and she came much closer than he was comfortable with.

It left him, too, fighting to stay clear of the stray shocks and sparks that burst towards him with every humble tap and vicious rattle of the tambourine. Wherever Mint was aiming, it was definitely nowhere safe. He narrowed his eyes and tried again, settling on his initial option of pinning down the Harmonial Instrument that sought to kill him--possibly. Harper offered a silent apology. He'd give her a real one later.

Again was he cursed with the difficulty of dividing his attention. Between watching her movements, ensuring she didn't touch him, and focusing on giving Royal Orleans all the breath he could expel, Harper was multitasking to a degree that was outright dizzying. One wrong move would land him with lightning in any number of places it shouldn't be--some more fatal than others.

He entrusted what he could to Orleanna, grateful for her searing kiss on his lips as his fingers pulsed and burned. She lit him up and set him ablaze, and he gave her all he had right back. The fiery wrath that exploded from the bell of the trumpet was relentless, scathing scarlets and oranges cutting a straight path for the little tambourine in Mint's slender fingers. It didn't matter if she pulled away, recoiling at the last possible second to escape his inferno. He'd long since learned how to ration his breath. He wouldn't give her a chance to recover.

If he had to chase her down again and again, he would. Harper hadn't quite decided whether or not Mint was truly faster than him, although she absolutely had him at least evenly matched. The sparks that tangled with his flames were as beautiful as they were deeply concerning, somewhat concealed in a way his eyes struggled to keep up with. He searched for any possible inch of her that wasn't coated in the essence of lightning, any skin that was safe to make contact with, and found nearly nothing. There was a singular exception, and he was still formulating how he could find a window to exploit it.

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The way the hair escaping his cap had been standing on end for the past several minutes, in Mint's immediate radius, was getting annoying. The observation came with the adrenaline-blunted realization of the most delicate, biting pain across his left cheek. It was so small that Harper almost didn't register it, for how many times he'd been burned far worse. It was a different sensation, sharper and more piercing than what he was used to. Even if he didn't have the leeway to reach up and touch it, he knew it was a wound that wasn't of his own making. He really, really didn't like exactly how close it was to his eye. This couldn't keep going.

Harper inspected Mint's fingers again, following them as closely as he could with eyes that could hardly keep up. He'd managed to singe them, somewhat--at least several on either hand were compromised. Regardless, it wasn't even slightly enough to deter her from playing. Getting her to let go through burns alone was going to be a gamble he didn't have time to take.

Incapacitation was still a second option. He hadn't entirely worked out how he'd pull it off without possibly killing her, and his preferred method was borderline unavailable relative to the lightning that twined loosely around nearly every inch of Mint's skin. The one idea he did have required an opening he had to hunt far too long for. If she'd been even a few inches taller, it probably wouldn't have worked.

Harper had largely learned to ignore how scorchingly hot the brass of Royal Orleans became after playing, although he knew it most definitely wasn't a healthy ignorance. He'd paid for it many times over with blistered fingers that had now grown used to the feel of superheated metal--Orleanna's alone, really. Had he not been accustomed to the scalding sensation that tingled painfully in his hands, it would've made it far more difficult to send the entire trumpet crashing sideways into Mint's face.

He regretted it severely, particularly the second he heard the soft sizzle that outdid even her humming electricity. It was to say nothing of the way her neck jerked violently, her whole body lurching as Harper assailed her with his partner in a different way. He'd hit the side with the scar. For how much worse Mint bled, coughing and sputtering flecks of red in the process, Harper wondered if he was going to Hell when he died.

It didn't get her to drop the tambourine. It did, however, slow her movements significantly, her once-swift flicks and shakes now trembling and weak. The electricity that surged about her skin was still ever-present, and yet jittering fervently enough that he wondered how much longer it would hold. He had to hit her twice. It didn't feel good. It was simultaneously rewarding and miserable, for how Harper felt every last strand of hair slowly start to settle back into place upon his head.

Mint gritted her teeth, staggering somewhat as she struggled to gain some semblance of distance from him. He let her. If she couldn't be Seliza's conduit, she was sure to fall back on what was tried and true. It was exactly what she opted for. Harper took a deep breath, lowered Royal Orleans once more, and pushed as hard off of the soft ground as he possibly could.

He could hear Octavia's voice, distant as it was. If she was watching, there was no way he could mess it up. Harper hoped she was, and if she wasn't, he'd make her. His blood burned.

Even shaken, there was only so much physical damage could do to impede the essence of lightning. Lightning was lightning, crashing and unforgiving, and Harper had no less room for error as he ran for his life. Again did he strive to close the gap Mint had fought to forge, her arm aloft and every rattle seeking to strike him down where he stood. The only thing louder than the boom of each bolt as it collided mercilessly with the earth inches away was the rapid pounding of his heart. He had one chance to make this work, lest he completely run out of non-lethal options.

Sorry about this, Harper joked.

Do as you must.

He gauged his distance as carefully as was possible, striking whatever balance he could between safety and efficiency. When he came the closest he was convinced he'd get, he lowered his arm where Mint raised hers. They were just barely inverse of one another, and he struggled to outspeed her motions. Royal Orleans was heavier than Mint's instrument, after all, and one hand was even harder to work with.

He wouldn't be able to check his trajectory, for the tiny window he'd be granted. He wouldn't be able to recoil, for the opportunity he'd lose. He wouldn't even be able to guarantee he could get Orleanna's vessel high enough to avoid killing himself, and too low an effort would draw a line straight to his position. With all of the will he had, he gritted his teeth and resolved to keep his eyes open.

In the split second before Mint could swing her arm downwards, Harper launched Royal Orleans as high into the air as he could manage. It was a throw that he couldn't verify, and was yet forced to pray would suffice. It was all he could do to run, from there. He just had to be faster.

The crack of Mint's lightning as it collided with the brass was ear-shattering, white-hot and blinding above his head. He wasn't dead. That was a good start. Mint's eyes widened with confusion and surprise, an additional window that gave Harper precious more seconds to work with. Faster. Faster. Faster.

And when he found his opportunity, Mint didn't have the chance to shroud herself in the voltage that had shielded her from his brutality. He still wasn't sure how he felt about hitting the scar. He came in from the other side, in that case, although his left hook had never been quite as strong. It was still more than enough to send her reeling.

He laid into her with everything he had, and of that, he had a lot. He went for her stomach. He went for her sides. He went for her legs and her arms. For once, Harper was satisfied that there was no blood. He didn't especially want to add more. When the initial shock faded, when the disorientation that came with a strike straight to the face had worn off, he didn't let her fight back.

Mint struggled to lift her wrist, a desperate attempt to offer some sort of counter to Harper's relentless assault. Even for as quickly as she'd jerked her arm, his fingers had encircled her wrist faster than she could fully lift the tambourine into the air. He twisted sharply, and the fierce wince that crossed Mint's face made Harper wince in turn. Even for as effective as all of this was, he was still sorry.

She writhed in his grasp, and he only gripped tighter, his arm shaking with the physical effort of holding her. When Mint sought to reach for the instrument with her spare hand, Harper met her other wrist with the exact same treatment. Again, he twisted, and again, Mint's face contorted sharply with pain. At the very least, he was fairly certain he wasn't doing any lasting damage. How long he could restrain her was debatable.

"Octavia, now!" he screamed desperately.

Harper didn't dare turn his head to see her. He could hear her, even so. The soft rustling of the grass, almost fast enough to match his pace, was his primary indicator, and he fought to stay still for as long as he could. This was the best he was going to get. He prayed it was enough for the Ambassador.

The flash of gold that burst to life above Mint was as sudden as it was blinding, and Harper again had to fight to keep his eyes open. At this distance, the Muse's radiance nearly made his eyes water. Lightning was instant and fleeting. She wasn't. Mint only flailed harder in his grasp, and he briefly entertained the idea of pinning the Maestra down to the ground in full. He really hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Seliza rested one hand on her hip in a gesture so condescendingly human. "Absolutely splendid. I would expect no less from the one Orleanna would claim as her own. Long have I wondered what she sees in you, boy. You have certainly piqued my curiosity. If the Ambassador would be so gracious, I would not mind playing with you a bit longer."

Harper shuddered, his blush notwithstanding. "Okay, yeah, this is weird."

Should she be left here permanently rather than return to Above, I would not object.

"Harper!"

That, at least, he was far more fond of. "Do it!" he yelled.

"Mint Mossovio," an aggravating voice began, "your toll has been paid once over. Now, Ambassador, see through the eyes of the one who paid the toll."

Mint shook her head frantically. It didn't matter. The moment Octavia's fingers brushed against the tambourine, there was nothing she could do to stop the Ambassador. It was instant. Harper hardly had the time to blink, as always.

"What was it?" he heard Josiah call.

Octavia's voice wavered through every word. "Same thing! All of them, they're the same exact thing!"

"Damn it, this is insane!" Josiah growled.

"I have borne witness to your pain!" Octavia cried. "And my light guides your passage from the depths of my heart!"

"You are in quite the hurry," Seliza teased. "There is no rush, little Ambassador."

Between the tambourine dissipating beneath Octavia's tender touch, the smug zest dripping from Seliza's voice as she spoke, and the way Mint glared him down with outright loathing all the way to the end, Harper didn't dare move. The risk of Mint fighting back in one last desperate attempt to reclaim her Muse was too great, and Harper wasn't sure exactly what would come of Octavia's efforts being interrupted mid-guidance. His hands still shook with the effort of clinging to Mint's wrists, and it wasn't until every sparkle and flash of gold had fizzled into the sky like dying stars that he uncurled his fingers. He staggered. So did Mint.

"Are you okay?" Josiah asked quickly.

"I'm fine," he answered, just as fast.

"Don't let her get to River!" Octavia pleaded.

Harper nodded, never once taking his eyes off the Essenced girl before him. "I won't! Go!"

And in the wake of Mint's silent, venomous gaze, punctuated only by the blood streaked across her face, the Ambassador did so. Both of them left as soon as they'd come, although Harper still wasn't sure exactly how far along they were. He half-expected Mint to try to fight, bare-handed as their brawl would've been. Either out of energy or out of spirit, she only pierced him with all of the ire she could muster in lieu of words. It hurt more than he wished it did.

Maybe he could switch with someone else--someone still embroiled in their own battle, ideally. Harper knew he wasn't supposed to. He couldn't help the urge. After all, it would give him another chance to get Octavia's eyes on him again. His blood was still on fire.

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