Chapter Text
One should never let the wind guide them.
It's something the bard's fellow townsfolk always told him. Something that made them stay far away from the woodlands enclosing most of their village. Most people only dared to enter or leave through well-worn paths sheltered from the endless breeze.
Save for the rustling of leaves, the woodlands were quiet. Tranquil. Devoid of superstitious neighbours.
Perfect for practicing music.
He'd foregone his lyre to practice singing today. Warmup exercises done, he let lyrics flow from him freely, running with whatever songs came to mind.
He was halfway through a folk song about a woman who could travel through time when he felt the air shift behind him.
A little... thing twirled into view, draped in white and teal cloth patterned like a doily. Its eyes glowed like the sky.
"Why, hello there!" it squeaked. "What brings you out here?"
The bard needed a second to gather himself.
"...I'm just here to sing. What are you?"
It giggled. "Just a local. Maybe a friend! Speaking of, may I have your name?"
The breeze gently brushed against his skin. It raised goosebumps.
A voice in the back of his head told him something was wrong. Was this the thing everyone was worried about?
It was so small, though. He chose to ignore it.
"...It's Venti."
"How lovely! Thanks!" the spirit chirped.
Suddenly the bard's mouth went dry.
He choked, the very air within his throat coming to life and pulling at something that shouldn't be pulled. Something deep within him snapped off like a twig ripped from a tree in a storm, vanishing in the spirit's direction, leaving a hole he'd previously never noticed was filled.
He felt very, very cold.
"Well, then, allow me to introduce myself," the spirit giggled, "now that you've so generously gifted me material."
Glowing strands of breeze coalesced around it into a sphere, obscuring it from view. It grew and grew in size and intensity, forcing the bard to shield his face, until it was larger than even him. Then it unravelled, the strands peeling off and evaporating into the sky.
The spirit smiled, newly formed hands toying with faintly teal braids and brushing a leaf off of his shorts. The same shorts the bard wore.
"I'm Venti!"
He sounded like him too.
The bard spluttered. "But you're not- I- I'm-"
Why couldn't he finish the sentence?
Venti's smile widened into something sharp. Predatory.
"You're nobody! You just gave me yourself, remember? Don't worry, I'll take good care of it for you."
The bard didn't know what to say. Venti's unblinking gaze, eyes softly glowing teal and green like the woods around them, pierced through his own. He shivered. He couldn't look away.
"Why don't you sleep for a while?"
As his legs gave out and his vision faded, he finally understood his people's fear.
Venti had really taken on a handful, hadn't he?
It turned out the bard had very little in the way of connections with other humans for him to feed on. Not even parents! Who at his age lacked those? Luckily for him, however, that meant Venti needed him alive; he had to absorb energy from someone.
But he was being awfully ungrateful about it.
"Why are you doing this?" the bard pleaded, face pressed against the bars of his cage. It had been days and he was still having a tantrum over his predicament, demanding things like 'answers' and 'freedom' and the life that was no longer his.
He supposed he might as well explain this time. Dealing with this every time he delivered food would be unideal.
"Because you trespassed in Lord Decarabian's territory, silly!" he said. "You were making quite the racket."
The bard looked affronted. "You mean my music?"
"Yes, that. Very pretty. But what the Lord says goes, and his decree is that the woods stay silent. You didn't heed the warnings and you let me take your name, so here we are."
The bard was silent for a minute. He opened his mouth a couple times as if to object, thought better of it, and closed it again. He deflated.
"This isn't fair."
Venti scoffed. "How so? I've given you everything a human needs. Shelter, food, bedding-"
"Aspirations? Human interaction?" The bard was glaring at him again.
Venti smirked.
"Did you have those?"
The bard fell silent again. He sank to the floor. Got him.
"Have I actually changed anything about your circumstances? At least you'll have consistent sustenance now."
The bard avoided his gaze. He stayed that way for several minutes. The energy radiating from him was delicious.
"...Can I at least have my lyre? While you're here?" the bard mumbled.
"Why would I give you that?"
The bard looked exasperated.
"Music keeps me going. I'd produce better... food. For you. If I could play it."
Venti mulled it over, shrugged, and nodded. Why not let the creature have his enrichment? It wouldn't harm either of them.
The next day, when he returned with the instrument as promised alongside the nightly food, the bard hugged it to his chest like a human infant. His lips curled up slightly for the first time since the two had met.
It was starting to rain outside. Standing in the entrance of the bard's cave, Venti could hear the faint strums of a lyre being tuned behind him. As the first drops began to hit him, he doubled back and decided to stay inside for the night. He had entertainment, after all. His report to his Lord could wait.
"The song about the dandelion sea. Play that again."
The bard sighed. He leaned back against his bedding and glanced at the ceiling. The tally marks carved into it marked the weeks he'd been stuck here for. He might have lost count otherwise. He might have lost track of day and night altogether if not for these check-ins.
Ven- the changeling, he was not calling him that- kept staring at him intently, sitting on the other side of the bars.
"Haven't you copied all of my skills?"
V-the changeling huffed. "To an extent. Give me more material and I can give you better food."
"Is that another fae word game?" The bard rolled his eyes. "I'm not giving you anything. You can listen, though."
Whatever. It's not like he had anything else to do, and he certainly wasn't suffocating the last remaining part of himself to spite his imprisoner. He picked up his lyre again.
Despite himself, he couldn't help but stare at the way Venti- damn it- subtly leaned towards him as he played. His body language was looser than when he'd entered the room. He'd always looked at the bard like an insect specimen mounted under glass, detached and objectifying, but as of late he could have sworn something had shifted.
The visits had increased in length as well, going from brief entries and exits to dump food at his feet to increasingly convoluted song requests. And hadn't the food's quality been improving already?
A couple of songs later, Venti startled at something the bard couldn't hear. He stood up.
"We'll have to resume this later. My report is overdue."
The bard snorted. "Does he know you're doing this? Arranging private concerts for yourself? Isn't this heresy?"
The changeling's shoulders tensed- something the bard definitely hadn't seen before- as he walked out.
"None of your business."
Something was wrong.
Humans were primitive and the fae were above them, their minds unburdened by the primal instincts humans called 'emotions'. Humans spent their lives tossed around by the turbulent waves of their own psychology, desperately struggling to stay afloat until their flesh withered and their bones crumbled to dust. Beings like him, on the other hand, sailed over the calm, clear waters of their mental landscape, taking in the scenery and sipping on human feelings at their leisure. Feeding on them. Not absorbing them.
And yet something was boiling beneath the surface of his mind. It thrashed and screamed like a cornered animal. It snapped at him if he drew close to inspect it but quickly closed the distance if he tried to back away.
The bard was singing again.
His voice was soft. Physically it wavered, but waves of quiet emotion rolled off of him as strongly as when he was first captured. The notes of his melody flowed through the bars of his cage like a stream.
Venti should have felt nothing. He always felt nothing.
The beast in him writhed.
A storm raged outside of the bard's cave. He could hear the roaring of the wind and rain pummeling the ground like pebbles from where he sat, but their distance softened them into pleasant background noise.
Until a familiar changeling rushed inside, thoroughly soaked and breathing heavily.
It was a matter of time until he snapped, the bard supposed.
"What have you done to me?" Venti snarled, slamming his fists into the cage's bars with a clang. He had loose strands of hair hanging off his braids.
"Whatever could you mean?" the bard replied, hamming up his innocence. He had a strong suspicion of what had been happening by now, though he still wasn't sure what he'd done to trigger it. It seemed the changeling wasn't either.
"Mentally. Emotionally. You- you're poisoning me somehow. Infecting me with your degenerate human urges. How? Why?"
He'd been right, then. Venti started to pace frantically around his half of the cave.
"How am I supposed to do my job like this? This could ruin my life, I'll be the laughing stock of the other fae, I-"
The bard gave him a very unimpressed stare. "Your life could be ruined? Oh no, I can't imagine the feeling."
"Shut up." Venti glared at him. "Just... how do you live like this? How do you function day to day at constant risk of being possessed by a deranged child?"
The bard steadily returned his gaze. "How do you live without feelings? Without wanting to be anything other than some tyrant's underling? Without ever forming meaningful connections with others? Don't you get lonely?"
Venti recoiled.
"My job is fine."
A pause. "I'm fine."
"Are you happy, though?"
"No, but that's-"
"Did you choose that job?"
"No, but-"
"Then why are you-"
"He stole my name too, okay?"
Ah.
"My Lord. I mean." Venti's voice was quieter again.
He paused for a second. He inhaled and sighed.
"All changelings have to turn theirs over. Our abilities would be too chaotic otherwise. That's why we take other people's, but it still doesn't..."
"It doesn't fill the void properly? It doesn't free you?"
Venti nodded.
"Do you want to be free?"
Venti looked away. He didn't respond. His hands, clenched into fists, trembled slightly.
Did he have an opening?
"I might be able to help you. On one condition."
Venti looked up at him. The bard stared straight into his eyes. They looked like Venti would accept anything.
"What do you want?"
One should never let the wind guide them. But maybe it could be guided.
"Let me out."