Chapter Text
Sound of songbirds on an early morn
They jest and laugh at one particular tune
Torn between what may or not
The crow sings lonely in ruined tone
Songbird oh songbird of coal-dyed plume
Sing to me
I'll listen to you
••••••••••••••
Ventis voice was gone.
Quite the news considering he had been slamming his fists on deaths door just two days prior, wreaked by a burning fever. Pneumonia had taken its toll on the young lad and Venti was barely back on his feet when a pearl-clutching Gertrude came charging through the door threatening to take out the cargo leashing and strap him to the bed like some sort of delinquent, and Venti coughed up a storm as he slipped past her and down the hallway he went, cape flying, a bit wobbly around the corners but eventually Venti jumped past a cleaning staff and out the door.
He was almost able to see the stretch of blue and white as clouds framed a beautiful summers noon, when suddenly the world seemed to tip sideways, boulders had replaced his bones and every step turned agonizingly slow. Venti bristled as he wondered if he was even moving at all, nothing was moving, it was silent and, yes, Venti came to realize, no wind was blowing as well, no storms, no breeze... nothing. There was nothing, and without the movement of wind, the air became a box of solid steel, cramping around Venti, cramming down, squeezing, pushing until he could do nothing but sob out, his voice swallowed whole by the voidlike nothingness - something cold hit his forehead.
Venti awoke with a gurgle stuck in his throat, heaving painfully before his lungs began to fill properly again. Gertrude had put a damp compress on his forehead and was just about to leave again. And when Venti turned his drumming head to the left, he could see familiar grey peak through between the roofs. Nothing had changed, it has been but a dream.
He sighed, turning over he found the little elf resting by his side, looking vaguely concerned with its big blue eyes and round face.
He tried to speak to it, reassure it but all that fell past his lips where painful croaks followed by an onslaught of coughing, Venti hunching his brittle shoulders, spitting droplets of red onto the embroidered sheets and the elf simply leaned its small body against Venties head, humming a solemn rhythm against his ruffled hair.
It wasn't long after Gertrude had come to tilt the windows in fear Venti may just about suffocate if not at least some movement is brought into the stale air born from Ventis feversleep - Venti had complained at the freezing winds rushing into the room but Gertrude had simply told him to be grateful she didn't swing the windows open fully, for the winds where particularly volatile today - Meridius entered the room on cats paws. Venti had been wide awake but resting his eyes when Meridius came to open the door and just stand in the frame for an eternity.
Frowning, he opened his eyes at Meridius and asked in silence: Why do you stand there as if bought and not taken?
"How are you?", asked Meridius then. He looked nervous, as if he hadn't been spending near every day at Ventis side, he knew that - Meridus acted like he feared whatever answer Venti would give.
Venti gave him a sheepish shrug and turned over in his bed, now facing the tilted window and looking outside.
Meridius finally found it within himself to step past the threshold of the bedroom and trot around to the basketed seat he would often take when watching over his friend.
Ventis gaze was fixed on something far off in the distance neither of them could see and Meridius found himself relaxing, seeing the bard awake and lucid for the first time in days.
"I thought, I might loose you that night, Venti."
Taking his eyes off of that distant nothing Venti carefully reached out his hand, looking Meridius straight into his eyes, expectantly.
For a moment they both simply stared at one another, Ventis hand twitching for Meridius to hurry up and Meridius brow twitching in deep concentration, attempting to deciphered what by the gods Venti wanted of him. When it clicked he scrambled for the pencil sticking out of his breast pocket, Venti grumbled a little as he pulled a notepad from the drawer, not annoyed at Meridius but rather his cracking joints and pained ribs.
I thought I may die
Venti wrote in a shaky hand onto an empty page and held it for Meridius to read. It wasn't what he would have wanted to write.
He smiled absently, a weary one, which spoke of poorly concealed worry and quiet relief but a side of amusement at Ventis unfortunate penmanship wound its way there as well.
The next Venti scribbled onto the pad was a simple question; My lyre?
"It's still in one piece, if that's what you're asking. Gertrude took it upon herself to keep it somewhere dry and moderate in temperature, for your peace of mind.", he said, then grinned slightly at the pleased look on Ventis face. Albeit Meridius was no musician, Gertrude had made sure to frace the message she had had for Venti carefully, in a way that would truly put him at ease and he knew it from the way a slew of tension seemed to lift itself from the boys shoulders and he leaned back just slightly into his cushions again.
It turned quiet, with Ventis throat try and battered as a chalk dusted hedgehog Meridius decided to leave it at that. Venti was tapping the pencil to the edge of his notepad while looking around the room in thought. A fragile spell, Meridius knew, right now Ventis sore voice wouldn't be much of an issue if he just kept quiet as well but once Venti grew bored or something came up, it will become all to obvious that there is now a barrier of communication between them.
He can already see Ventis frustrated frown, the way it distorted his entire face, causing him to look so much older.
Life is such a fragile little bird, if it falls and breaks there is no remedy, no magic in the world that can bring it back.
They say crows hold funerals for their fallen family, and hold grudges for generations. Crows also bring gifts of small trinkets to those they hold dear, Meridius comes to remember, as he begins to fold yet another flower from tissue.
After a while Meridius noticed an attentive pair of eyes had begun to watch every turn of his fingers, Venti made no move to interrupt his friend, simply resting on his side, the little sprite sitting ontop of his head and dozing about.
It was quiet, calm, Meridius enjoyed that greatly, it was something he sometimes misses in Ventis company, this, just existing, it hurt to think fate was forcing Venti into it, so turning his enjoyment bittersweet.
•••••••••••••••
Songbird oh songbird my love goes to you
Your song alone I love to listen to
Do not take their words to heart
Crow, sing your lovely ballad
Crow, sing your lovely tune
Sing and I'll listen to you