C'thelli's Demonic Orphanage (Completed and Editing)

17

Engulfed by the frenzied mass of the humans, Feimo gasped and clawed his way through the crowds as the band began another song. It was another lively piece, an inconvenient, blood-pumping tempo that led to the demon being dragged along with the tide of the crowd. He was grabbed and spun by a woman here, and heaved into the air by a man there, and all the while, his poor feet were stomped on by the chaotic mass for failure to move to the rhythm of the music. 

Eventually, halfway through the song, he glimpsed a gap in the crowd mid-dance with a pretty girl and made a break for it. Squeezing and ducking he pushed through the window and breathed a sigh of relief. Even if he was still within the well-lit confines of the tavern, he felt the air was cooler in his lungs compared to the boggy horde behind him, and to his confusion, found a mug of beer in his hand. Whether he had nicked it in the heat of the moment, or somebody had passed it to him, he didn't question it. Surviving humanity was thirsty work.

After a moment of reprieve and the taste of bitter malt on his tongue, the demon looked to his right and spied a man behind a counter serving drinks to a couple of men. Remembering his mission, he headed over. Careful not to slip on the soggy floor, he slouched into a roughly carved stool and waited for the man to pass over two mugs of mead over to a cheerful looking fellow. Even without drinking it, he could smell the rich honey wafting from the cups as they retreated from the counter. It was an alluring smell, one that whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

"Can I help you?" The gruff tone sent the demon spinning back around in his seat in surprise. The man, illuminated by the hearth, was much older than he originally thought, with deep wrinkles snaking along his forehead and grey hair thinning atop of his head.

"Are you the barkeep?" Feimo asked with an innocence that blinded him from the connection between he and the number of kegs of ale, and beer behind him.

"Nah, I'm the virgin Mary, Keep's outside." The man said whilst jabbing his thumb towards the door.

"Oh, thank you." He said as he slowly got up. He really didn't want to go through that mosh pit again. As he turned, a cackle escaped the elderly man's mouth.

"Aw, come on, son, you shouldn't have fell for that. Yes I'm the barkeep, now what can I get you?" The man stifled the rest of his laughter with his hand as he leant his elbows on the bar. 

Without thinking fully, the demon pulled out his Francs and placed them between them, "I need to loosen your lips?" He said with a level of uncertainty. He tried to observe the man, to read his eyes like C'thelli had taught him, however he found that he was hopeless at it. If only she were here...

"Demon, ey?" The barkeep said, nodding to his claws. They were nothing long, perhaps an inch or two, but the daggers were certainly sharp enough to draw attention. "At least it explains those freaky teeth of yours. What kind of gossip would interest you?" He asked with coy suspicion.

"What do you know about Louis and Elise?"

Another bout of laughter murmured from his lips before he slid the coins into his palm, weighed them, and then placed them in the pocket of his brown stained apron. "Not a lot to them really. They both grew up here, got married and mostly keep to themselves. I think Elise was the blacksmith's daughter before he passed and left it to Roseau. If you want to know more, then you can ask Louis yourself, he's the flute player over there." With a nod of his sweaty head, he directed him back towards the stage, where in the midst of the musicians, a fairly young man with dark whisps of facial hair protruded from beneath a long nose.

He was in the middle of accompanying the lute player in a softer part of the melody. They were like gods, controlling the ebb and flow of the tide before them. Slowly the crowd rocked on the balls of their feet and waited in anticipation. As expected, and with a roar of encouragement from the onlookers, they began to rise both in tempo and volume until they were joined by the other musicians each vying to make the song louder and more frantic than the last, until even they started dancing along to their art.