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Painted and Tainted

"Finished."I rubbed my eyes as I woke to the sound of Grim's voice. My eyes bulged as I saw the state of the large clock room. The room was covered in drying brown paint. My clothes were splattered with a million chocolate drops and interesting obscure scents floated up to the windows with the accompaniment of a casual buzz of faraway voices. 

"Breakfast?" An instinct told me Grim wasn't expecting me to give an answer as he stood looking out on the busy world. We were so detached up here; miles away from the fruitful lives of the innocent. The quiet allowed us breathing space from the assassinations we performed daily.  "No." 

A shock hit my body and I flinched like a frightened cat. Decoding a reaper was difficult but over time I had been able to deduce most of his eccentric personality. He knew I had questions. I always had questions. Even though curiosity killed the cat.

"What happened to my joy? I used to have so much but now... now I only have short bursts of... you know... joy." Trying to illustrate what I meant in the air, my hands fumbled. Discomfort urked me as I moved off of my back so the world was the correct orientation once again. 

"You woke up to reality." The fingerless gloves on my hands were suddenly extremely intriguing. The black leather was neither soft nor rough, only somewhere in between. Despite my long sleep, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. 'Morning tiredness' my mother used to call it. 

"No clients today?" My body itched for something to do. An impatience that was only amplified by the sounds of human life below. Shouts were only just discernible yet a desire to be back in the throng of people sparked to life within me. 

"You're recovering." The short answer left a lot to the imagination, such was the cryptic way Grim often spoke when he was dealing with my cascade of questions. Today though, I'd have to disappoint him. 

I stood up and wandered over to the window Grim was staring out of. The dusty look of the poor area contrasted with the refined style of the rich, all because of a stupid feud that caused the collapsing of the whole country. After the king dies, what will happen? 

A zephyr brushed at my hair, untangling the knots but did nothing for my state of mind. The questions in my head couldn't be answered by Grim, only myself, in the end it was still my breaking of the rules and I would take all the responsibility for the outcome. 

King Vesriel wasn't due to die. His life expectancy was undefined unlike the millions he held power over. With that long and tainted life expectancy, decades of tyranny would ensue. This scheme of mine was dangerous and could reset everything for the worse. It was a risk I was willing to take but first I'd have to get my most mental friend to join my cause. If she would join then I would be increasing the odds of a positive conclusion. 

"Breakfast, Avi?"