Demis & Demons: Cilia's Dust

With a heavy sigh, Vernon poured an ale out of the enormous wooden keg behind the bar. When the head began to spill over the rim of the mug, he lazily stopped the tap with the back of his thick fingers. That was when the front door to the tavern banged open. The cold air gusting in made the hairs on the back of Vernon's arms stand on end. Grumpily, he looked up. What he saw standing in the doorway couldn't have surprised him more. His mouth fell open. The hanging lanterns flickering on either side of the entrance, illuminated a beautiful young woman. She had long dark hair and a full-figured body. Despite the bitter cold outside, she was barefoot and wore a short, sleeveless dress. Actually, to call it a dress was generous. It was attire more befitting the privacy of a bedroom than any public establishment, and certainly too revealing for the likes of the conservative townsfolk sitting in the tavern. Stranger still, she held an expression of pure amazement as she looked the place over. Her penetrating bright blue eyes searched the dining room, examining every detail and person with keen interest. The low wooden beams just above the woman's head, gave way to a high vaulted ceiling on the far side of the tavern where most of Vernon's guests gathered. The bar was also located there, along with a big fireplace that hosted a crackling fire to keep everyone warm. People sat on well crafted, wooden chairs, positioned around solid round tables. A bejeweled two-handed broadsword had been mounted above the fireplace, and tapestries hung on the walls. Gazing at the people inside, a smile stretched across the woman's face. Her teeth sparkled white. Putting a hand to her mouth, she started giggling uncontrollably like she had found some sort of long lost treasure. What she could be so excited about, Vernon had no idea. There was nothing particularly remarkable about his tavern, or the people in it. A freezing wind suddenly blew in through the front door, sending snowflakes swirling up and around the woman as she strode forward. The normally surly crowd remained quiet—despite the hard cold draft—as they watched her approach. Like Vernon, everyone was too stunned by the unusual sight of such a beautiful, half-naked woman out in public, to say anything as she came to a stop. Placing her hands on her hips, she looked as if she was on the verge of addressing everyone. The men sitting at the table closest to her, indiscreetly stared at her chest while she tried to find her words. This close, they could clearly see just how revealing the sheer material was covering her. It left little to the imagination. Then, she cleared her throat, and spoke. “I collect the stories of demigods," she said. “Tonight, I would like to hear the tale of the demigod, Cecilia. Who would be kind enough to share it with me?" Her voice was smooth and rang out melodically through the room. When no one answered her, she continued, “In return for the tale, I'm happy to pay any price." She finished the last statement with a flourish of her open palm towards the guests. The comment and movement of her nearly naked body drew some wide-eyed looks and murmurs from the guests. “Is that so?" asked one of the nearby men, openly staring at her breasts. “What did ya have in mind there, lass?" She looked down at him, oblivious of his lude stare. “What if I sang and danced for you?" she asked. The man's eyes widened. “That'd be fine!" he exclaimed. “You're gonna do WHAT?" asked a woman incredulously from a table near the fireplace. “And what the HELL are ya wear'in? It's freez'n outside!" While some people seemed to agree with the speaker, other guests seemed perturbed by the interruption. “Oh, shut up Martha!" another woman yelled suddenly from the next table over. “Let the lass sing if she wants. Unless'n you wanna grace us with yer own talents!" “Nah, nah! Spare us that!" spat a thin, wiry, middle-aged man from the table next to Martha's. Spiteful laughter filled the tavern. The older woman, Martha, huffed at the indignity. “Well, what are ya gonna use for an instrument?" Martha asked, not giving up. “I don't see no geetar, or pan-o nowhere!" It was then that Vernon heard the thumping. He looked over to see the young woman had begun stomping her foot into the tavern's wooden floorboards. It made a steady and strong beat. Of course, people had certainly thought to tap their feet or drum a beat on Vernon's bar in the past. He had even had bards come to play—many times, in fact. But the woman's simple beat had an odd sort of resonance to it. Vernon felt the sound drawing him in. Everyone became entirely entranced in that moment as the sound of the thumping pulsed through them. Then, a massive man sitting at the bar, began stomping his left boot into the floor in time with the woman. And then, an old man sitting alone in the corner, joined in by banging his ale mug onto the top of the table he sat at. Liquid sloppily sloshed up and out of the cup. But his cadence was a little different than that of the large man and the young lady's beat. He would tap the mug in two fast concessions, pause, and then tap again. He continued the rhythm, and somehow his new beat blended perfectly with theirs. He even started whistling, adding yet another rhythmic sound. To Vernon's surprise, people started bobbing their heads to the catchy melody spontaneously materializing out of nowhere. Smiles began appearing. And then the young woman started to clap her hands together, adding yet another rhythm. The different beats and tunes blended together to make what was becoming true music. In the next few moments, everyone in the tavern joined in by either stomping a foot, banging an ale mug, or clapping their hands. Vernon stood stupefied behind the bar, his mouth still hanging open. He looked down and found that at some point he had set aside the full mug of ale, and now held a cup full of copper forks. He was shaking it, adding yet another instrument to the ensemble. Not understanding what was happening, he looked over the people in the tavern. He knew them all well. Typically, they were a moody, sullen bunch. But tonight, all he saw were smiles. Suddenly, the young woman nodded, satisfied with the rhythm the crowd was maintaining. She stepped forward, throwing her arms up in the air. Vernon could swear then that he heard the sound of stringed instruments coming from somewhere. He could clearly hear a flute too. Wherever it came from, it helped make the music even more festive. And then the woman began to skip around the dining room, spinning, and throwing her arms out to the side. Her movements were perfectly timed with the music erupting inside the tavern. Vernon noticed other people entering the tavern then, curious about the commotion. Someone finally shut the door. The woman then nimbly leapt up onto a nearby table. She continued her twirls, making the short dress flare out, and exposing bare skin underneath for everyone to see. The movement of her body beneath the thin material of her dress, teased the repressed desires of everyone watching. They drank in the magical performance. Even Martha—perhaps Martha more than any of them—watched, entirely bewitched by the purity of the girl's movements. To Vernon's further astonishment, everyone in the room stood then. They began lifting the heavy tables and slamming them down over and over again, keeping in time with the rhythm. From his perspective behind the bar, the motion of the tables made it look like there were waves floating back and forth across the floor. When the table the woman was dancing on lifted her up, she used the momentum to launch herself into the air. She gracefully flipped once and landed deftly onto the bar, continuing her dance without missing a beat. Vernon gazed up at her, drinking in her provocative movements. The woman's grace, beauty, and allure seemed unearthly. Everyone felt consumed by her. And then she began to sing. Oh, Deees-tin-y You're shaking their faith You're dealing their fate ruthlessly Oh, Deees-tin-y I'm not here to beg I'm not here to tread carefully Destinyyyyyyy What you killed, brought to life An inner will as sharp as a knife Before you try to start your plan The stain you'll leave, has no place in this land Deees-tin-y You've broken his heart You've stirred up the gods wrathfully Oh, Deees-tin-y You think it's a game But the pain you've caused has to end Has to eeeeend! Ohee, oooh, oooh Ohee, oh, oh Ohee, oh, oh Oh, oh, oooh, oooh Ohee, oooh, oooh Ohee, oh, oh Ohee, oh, oh Oh, oh, oooh, oooh Fascination! With what we can't have Will ruin all that we've created Fascination! With what we can't have Will ruin all that we've created Ohee, oooh, oooh Ohee, oh, oh Ohee, oh, oh Oh, oh, oooh, oooh Ohee, oooh, oooh Ohee, oh, oh Ohee, oh, oh Oh, oh, oooh, oooh Her song and dance thrilled them. She was touching their very souls with her grace. When the song and dance finally reached its crescendo and came to an end, the people fell back in their chairs with heavy satisfied sighs. The woman hopped down from the bar and turned toward Vernon. She wasn't short of breath or perspiring despite her profound effort. “Now," she said. “I'm owed a story." She pointed an elegant finger at Vernon. “And I think you're the one to tell it."