Bereft: Demise

34 | Of a Vindictive Vytian

The canvas lay as bare and untouched as winter's first snow before the Sin of Sloth.

He sat at the easel, perched upon the adjoining stool with his knees drawn to his chest and his mind mired in the murky moors outside his home. The dry brush waited in his fingers, waiting for direction and inspiration—but the canvas remained blank, smooth, and unblemished.

In so many ways, it was Peroth's antithesis. 

Above, on the balcony, Lionel and W'arg shared a silent conversation, their eyes alight with thoughts and motives beyond Sloth's imagination. He envied the Druids their ability to know one another's thoughts. They were creatures of spirit, of energy, and shared a communal ability that linked their minds into a single consciousness, like rivers to the sea. Peroth had heard a legend insisting the Druids had once been one powerful being, perhaps a King, or perhaps something unknown. 

Of course, it was just a story. A legend. Being older than time itself, Peroth found legends to be amusing trifles.

Legend or not, he envied them their silence, their utterly sublime state of mind, and their perfect knowledge of one another. He wondered if they could sense their brethren across the realms. He had asked W'arg once, but the Druid had only clacked his beak and given Peroth a wry look.

Amoroth was at his desk, not sitting but standing, riffling through the papers she had unearthed from one of its copious drawers. From the corner of his eye, Peroth watched her. He studied the lightning grace of her fingers tracing the printed lines of words. He followed the loose tendrils of chestnut hair spilling from a loosened chignon.

Her face read like a book. The low swoop of her brow told a tale of frustration. The inaudible movement of her lips told of her concentration. Every line about her young eyes was a mark of Peroth's failings. Fear was written there. Pain. Anger. Loneliness. He knew every line like an old friend, and hated every one of them.

As if sensing his attention, Amoroth lifted her gaze from the desk and met his own. Peroth didn't look away, but he did affix a polite smile on his face.

"I've gone over the records again to be certain," she said as she laid her fair hands upon the paperwork in question. "But I believe there's nothing to link DPC to any of Klau International's holdings. I spoke to Dorian and he said he retrieved the...items I kept in the apartment. I haven't heard from him again, I assume he's destroyed them."

Peroth harrumphed, prodding the clean palette with his brush. "Good for nothing boy."

She ignored his comment. "Even if Jackson or the company is indicted, DPC and your investments will be fine." 

"Hmm." He turned his attention to the Druids. They were facing one another, W'arg upon the railing with his talons clicking on the metal, Lionel sitting on the platform with his feline face tilted to W'arg. On a hidden signal, Lionel leaped off the platform and dashed across the room in a blur of motion Peroth wasn't able to fully track. The cat disappeared out the door.

"Cuxiel."

"Yes, Amor?" 

The woman regarded him with suspicion, the paperwork forgotten on the desk. "This is important."

"I know." It wasn't. Not in the slightest, not in the face of greater issues.

"You need to pay attention to this. Half your fortune is tied into DPC Innovations and the Khrest Technologies subsidiary. I'll continue to oversee the transactions from here and act as the silent partner, but Dorian tells me they've already seized records from Klau connecting it and KT. Without me there to persuade proper channels of authority, I've resorted to bribing, but if the right, overzealous investigator were to connect them all...."