thread ☇ where's your crown now
Dartz placed the last of the documents in his briefcase and closed it with a decisive click, the sound abnormally loud in the otherwise silent room. He had never given up majority ownership of Paradius Company when he'd put into motion the events which would face him against the Nameless Pharaoh, even though he had never intended to need the public front organization again. Yet when the outcome of that final battle had been decided, and the Atlantean king had been cast out from whatever afterlife may have awaited him, he found himself grateful for its continued existence -- and for the blissful ignorance of its employees, who merely assumed that its CEO was off on another worldly jaunt, and not trying his damnedest to rebirth the planet by killing everyone on it.
It was still a harsh blow when he learned that some of his employee's extended family had been killed in the earthquakes and floods which he'd caused. He wasn't sure if it was as harsh as when he'd stumbled across a Human Resources memo granting one of the office assistants an extension of her leave of bereavement. She'd finally taken her fiancé, in a coma for six years, off of life support -- a mere month before his soul would have come back after the Leviathan's defeat. Dartz never failed to be painfully aware of just how ironic the justice of the world was. It had haunted him for as many millennia as he'd been alive.
The breeze barely stirred the curtains of the open office window, and the wind was the wrong direction to carry the sounds from the city; it was from the south and brought with it the salty tang of the sea. It brought his attention back to the present, in as much as an immortal like himself could live in the here and now. The large manor house was quiet, the skeletal staff that Dartz hired to maintain the property during the daylight hours long since dismissed and sent home. Despite his royal upbringing, he didn't take well to being waited on hand and foot -- too much of his personal drive was to do things himself, to accomplish tasks for the feeling of satisfaction they brought. He was self-sufficient, preferred it that way.
Yet amid the empty silence of the barely lived-in rooms, he felt a stirring of uncertain longing. Wouldn't even the murmur of hired help be preferable to this infernal quiet, however impersonal they might be? He couldn't say for certain, but he suspected the answer would be yes.
On sudden impulse, he seized the telephone, finger poised to dial a number despite the late hour... but stopped. It wasn't that he didn't know of anyone to call; as a businessman, he knew the direct contacts of his fellow echelon of CEOs. Kaiba Seto, Pegasus Crawford, even Siegfried von Schroider. They were (at least in a business sense) his equals and yet he didn't feel any particular kinship with them. Not enough to call them in the middle of the night, even to trade clever witticisms. His thoughts automatically turned to his Warriors, who at one time might've thought a phone call bearing no new orders was unusual, but not unwelcome. Now he knew that if they had even an inkling of his true whereabouts, they'd stop at nothing to achieve vengeance for his crimes against them.
Dartz dropped the receiver back into the cradle with a sigh. Who was he trying to fool? He had no one who'd take his calls now.
The ancient ruler pushed back from the desk, picking up the briefcase. He thought, a bit self-pityingly, that he could probably fit everything he actually called his own in such a small container, if he so chose. Pathetic, he sneered into the darkness, and the lamp on the desk went out, its circuits shorted by the brief spike of unnatural energy emitting from him. If he'd had any thoughts about accomplishing more work tonight, it had now departed.
It was still a harsh blow when he learned that some of his employee's extended family had been killed in the earthquakes and floods which he'd caused. He wasn't sure if it was as harsh as when he'd stumbled across a Human Resources memo granting one of the office assistants an extension of her leave of bereavement. She'd finally taken her fiancé, in a coma for six years, off of life support -- a mere month before his soul would have come back after the Leviathan's defeat. Dartz never failed to be painfully aware of just how ironic the justice of the world was. It had haunted him for as many millennia as he'd been alive.
The breeze barely stirred the curtains of the open office window, and the wind was the wrong direction to carry the sounds from the city; it was from the south and brought with it the salty tang of the sea. It brought his attention back to the present, in as much as an immortal like himself could live in the here and now. The large manor house was quiet, the skeletal staff that Dartz hired to maintain the property during the daylight hours long since dismissed and sent home. Despite his royal upbringing, he didn't take well to being waited on hand and foot -- too much of his personal drive was to do things himself, to accomplish tasks for the feeling of satisfaction they brought. He was self-sufficient, preferred it that way.
Yet amid the empty silence of the barely lived-in rooms, he felt a stirring of uncertain longing. Wouldn't even the murmur of hired help be preferable to this infernal quiet, however impersonal they might be? He couldn't say for certain, but he suspected the answer would be yes.
On sudden impulse, he seized the telephone, finger poised to dial a number despite the late hour... but stopped. It wasn't that he didn't know of anyone to call; as a businessman, he knew the direct contacts of his fellow echelon of CEOs. Kaiba Seto, Pegasus Crawford, even Siegfried von Schroider. They were (at least in a business sense) his equals and yet he didn't feel any particular kinship with them. Not enough to call them in the middle of the night, even to trade clever witticisms. His thoughts automatically turned to his Warriors, who at one time might've thought a phone call bearing no new orders was unusual, but not unwelcome. Now he knew that if they had even an inkling of his true whereabouts, they'd stop at nothing to achieve vengeance for his crimes against them.
Dartz dropped the receiver back into the cradle with a sigh. Who was he trying to fool? He had no one who'd take his calls now.
The ancient ruler pushed back from the desk, picking up the briefcase. He thought, a bit self-pityingly, that he could probably fit everything he actually called his own in such a small container, if he so chose. Pathetic, he sneered into the darkness, and the lamp on the desk went out, its circuits shorted by the brief spike of unnatural energy emitting from him. If he'd had any thoughts about accomplishing more work tonight, it had now departed.