Chapter Text
Fountain Square was always busiest in the morning, when everyone was getting ready to depart for the day’s missions.
Dyme leaned back against the fountain as he plucked the strings on his sitar. The twang of the notes danced above the mumble of the crowd, above the conversation and cling-clangs of Keyblades and the shuffle of packing supplies. He smiled to himself and closed his eyes; he let his hands move on their own, let the mood of the morning set the mood of his music.
It was a calm dawn today, despite all the activity; a less experienced ear might think it a little frenzied, with so many wielders, some alone and some in parties, all going to and fro.
But Dyme was here almost every morning, and he knew all the moods.
No tension on this fine fall day. No nervous mumbling or glances. Today, there was only the practiced ease of a routine.
A handful of wielders called out to him as they passed by. Each time he responded with the ol’ nod-grin-wink, his fingers never moving from the strings.
Hey, they all had jobs to do, didn’t they? And Dyme had brought it upon himself to give them all some pep and inspiration when they were all groggy so early in the day. Their own bard.
Not to mention: where else would he find such an audience?
“Are you skipping missions again?”
The high, childish voice nearby made him roll his eyes a bit too dramatically.
“Aw, come off it, Chirithy,” Dyme said. “I’m providing a service!”
To illustrate, he pushed the tune to a high and energetic flourish. Some walking by glanced at him.
“You’re supposed to be gathering -”
“Listen! Don’t you think Foreteller Gula has enough people out there getting all that Lux? Now, me, I’m doing something a little different.”
“You’re just making a lot of noise.”
Dyme grinned at them sidelong. The Chirithy was sitting next to him on the edge of the fountain, the water dancing behind their backs.
“I’ll go later . How about that? That cheer you up?”
Chirithy gave him a look. He still wasn’t sure how they could do that when their eyes looked like a stuffed animal’s stitched ones - but it was still a look .
“You said that yesterday.”
Dyme shrugged and focused on the strings again - focused on the reverberations humming from his fingertips to his core, focused on how the sound buoyed over and into the crowd.
“You and I both know I’m not so great at the fighting bit with the Keyblade,” Dyme said cheerily. He picked up the beat a touch more, grinning when he saw a nearby Anguis wielder start to tap her foot to the beat as she finished packing supplies. “I’m better as an inspirational source!”
“ Andddd you and I both know you’re not bad at fighting. You’re just lazy.”
“Eh! Semantics!”
“That’s not what semantics means, and you know it.”
“Agree to disagree.” He hummed and readjusted his grip on the sitar. Or… well. Keyblade, really. When he’d first gotten it, it had appeared in the shape of a sitar, with the teeth as the tuning dials and the blade edge buoying out at the bottom and growing hollow with the cavity. Even came with strings! Gula had actually gawked at it when it had first formed in Dyme’s hand. Apparently, not even the Foreteller had seen anything like it.
So, hey, why not use it like it wanted to be used?
“Besides, you didn’t argue my last point.”
“The Keyblade is supposed to fight the Darkness -”
“Uh huh. I am fighting the Darkness... lifting people’s spirits! Keeping them happy! Ready to go ! When a Heart’s lifted up by music, no way Darkness can start simmering there.”
“Sure, but -”
“Nope! You just agreed.”
Chirithy sighed.
“You have an excuse for everything, don’t you? “
Dyme laughed, and the water behind him jumped up to dance for a splash.
“Gotta be smart, Chirithy. That way, you can do whatever you want.” He reached over and ruffled the Dream Eater’s head, mussing up the short hair there. Chirithy gave an indignant squeak. “And anyway! Who’s gonna notice one Keyblade wielder missing?” His grin turned sly. “On the other hand… I bet you all my munny they’ll definitely notice if their favorite musician is gone.”
And today, he wasn’t going anywhere.
---
Demyx felt himself drawn to the fountain of Radiant Garden.
They were pretty, sure. Newly rebuilt and shiny, alright. The waters danced well and gracefully enough, though he knew he could make it dance far better than the too rhythmic up-and-down they now displayed.
Anyone would have guessed he liked the fountains for such obvious and shallow reasons, but the real reason confused him.
He hummed to himself and poked and prodded some of the stonework keeping the fountain together. Dark as it was, he’d figured no one would be able to spot him in his even darker cloak as he slipped out of the castle to go grab (steal) some food. Oh, sure, Zexion - Ienzo, now, right, right - had offered him food earlier, but he’d declined. They didn’t have the stuff he was in the mood for, and anyway, the food truck in town had the best burrito bowls.
Demyx cocked his head and eyed the fountain. What a weird feeling it gave him. It was like the end of a song he couldn’t remember, with the notes buzzing at the end of his fingers but unplayable in their forgetfulness. The worst feeling!
With another hum, the Nobody backed up and studied the fountain at a distance. It was circular like a well and tiered with two platforms where water cascaded down from.
Something about it!
Something about it felt like homesickness.
“Huh!”
He jumped, catching his outburst by putting his hand over his mouth and looking around. Nobody was around, still, and the only sound was the trickle of the water.
“Weird,” he whispered to himself, and reached out with his foot and nudged the edge of the fountain like it was some sleeping animal.
Y’know, come to think of it, this little plaza would be a nice place to play some music.
He hopped in place a little, a smile lighting up his face. Oh, hell yeah! Though abandoned now, he knew this was a traffic-laden area during the day, as it was almost smack-dab in the middle of the city. The homesickness was soon forgotten. Think of all the people he could catch with his tunes!
Now, that was an alright plan.
As long as Xehanort didn’t win and destroy the world or whatever it was he planned to do. Right. As long as that didn’t happen. He scratched the back of his hair and glanced up at the Castle, where he’d dropped off the vessel yesterday.
Should he help out with stopping that a little more…?
“Nahhh.” He waved a dismissive hand and moved away from the fountain. They could handle it. And when they handled it, he’d give them a little show, right here, by the one and only musical talents of Demyx.