N.B Written for challenge #010, 'Colour', at YGO_Drabble on livejournal.
For the longest time, Bakura knew only black and white.
Black for the dark crevasses inside his mind, inside the ring; an overpowering symphony of darkness.
White, for his host. White, for the 'good person' bullshit he was striving so hard to destroy.
Black and white. Villain and hero.
The thing is, he was perfectly content with his newspaper-print vision. Hell bent on destroying the world, sure, but content. Harsh and stark and raw, and he bloody well liked it that way.
Only now there's this mesmerising tapestry of purple and gold, threads woven together in an intricate design he can't quite work out. His skin is suede; a soft caramel even softer under his hands. Suddenly - everything isn't quite so black and white and the occasional monotone shade in between.
Suddenly the world is so much richer; Bakura's always been a thief.
