The Demon In The West - An Original Work In Progress

Chapter One (Part Two of Two): The Turning Of New Leaves

The beautifully woven, silken gown glistens in the radiant god rays cast by the sun. Its lightly tinted cream color mixes wonderfully with the deep, rich wood that the building we stand in front of is composed of.

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Eying their stained, tattered gown and wind-blown hair, I become intrigued by their story. If their gown were ruined in some kind of brawl, most people would return home for a change of clothes rather than coming for drinks; they were on the run, or are about to be, I access. Their messy, windblown hair tells a different story, they may have just ridden here.

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Their angled, deep honeyed eyes become an amber tone as the rays reach their eyes, highlighting the yellow, copper tones almost to a translucent, golden color creating a sense of depth within their iris. Their picturesque appearance entranced me, rendering me momentarily speechless, but soon regaining my mettle.

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Stepping back from Piper, I stand against the perfectly carved, handcrafted railing, gesturing towards our guest.

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Knowingly, Piper nods their head, their short, curly hair gently swaying with the movement.

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"They're new 'round here and wanted guidance. They mean no harm, boss." Piper gently curtsied, bowing their head and allowing their hair to fall delicately over their eyes, they seemingly vouch for this newcomer.

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As the clouds finally pass from their place obstructing the view of the sun, the area becomes bright again.

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The rowdy drunkards clash with the serene, hospitable exterior of the establishment. Inside, the three of us squeeze into a booth at the far end, near the pianist. The melody the pianist creates as they lightly pressed on the keys stirs a feeling of warmth inside me, a warmth with similitude to the flame belonging to the thick white candle, half-melted on the metal tray in front of us in the center of the table, a kind of warmth I haven't felt in a long while.

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The wainscot walls are deep mahogany, carved with quixotic tracery, rich with an aura of romance and passion residing in each engraving. Above the wainscot lies a beautifully designed floral wallpaper with a light, bluish-gray - no, a slate color - for the background. The mixture of blues, browns, and pinks in this design works wonderfully, the pink flowers seize my gaze.

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Piper stands, and my eyes anxiously watch her- as a child would with their parent, or a dog with their owner, anxiously awaiting her return- as she strides across the room to the counter the bartender is located at.

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They speak something inaudible to my ears at this distance and as the barkeep swiftly fills three glasses with a clear liquid, Piper places a few coins on the countertop and somehow, graciously, begins to make their way back to us with the three cups in hand. I quickly accessed the man beside me, who seemed to have sobered up slightly compared to his unsteady state of our first encounter.

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He appeared old although not much older than me, but he seemed mature and composed. I see them now, as his brows furrow as if contemplating something, the thin, defined creases of wrinkles; even so, he mustn't be more than ten years older than I am now.

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I become startled as Piper returns, the clanking of glass disrupting my train of thought. I looked up at her- her expression was slightly irritated, yet when our eyes met, she had smiled a genuinely gentle smile- and her gaze shifted back over my shoulder at the man she had referred to as her 'Boss' although out of the two, she seemed to be the one keeping him in line.