this is a drabble i made meant to introduce Dark Crafter as a character i was gonna use on tumblr
but, then, tumblr's so far behind on everything i planned out, i lost interest in the site, and the character, and this never got posted
no swearing or blood in this, though
Pain.
That was his only thought, as he exploded, and his ill-gotten color was taken away from him.
Pain and regret.
Regret that he lost, regret that he let his pleasant new emotions get the better of him.
Perhaps if he hadn't been so amused by fighting with Kirby, he could have won.
If he just hadn't wanted to toy with him a little more...
...but could he really be blamed for that moment of weakness? He had never felt amusement before! Or happiness...
But he could feel pain. Pain, regret, anger, sadness...
...fear.
He was afraid.
Did dark matter have an afterlife? Could he even truly die?
Then he opened his eyes again.
Physically, he couldn't feel anything. Not cold, nor warmth, and the pain had certainly left...
Was this what death was like?
Sure, the planets and stars were still surrounding him, but he saw no one else. There was no reason for him to believe he wasn't dead...
...And if he was still alive...?
He didn't want to stay here, alone, for eternity.
At the same time, he couldn't report back to his creator-after this failure, that was begging for a fate worse than death.
...What about Pop Star?
Surely the planet was big enough for Kirby and Bandana to never be able to find him again?
With all of its creatures, there was no way he could be alone...
With that in mind, he struggled around until he could get in the direction he felt sure the planet was in.
Once that was done, he began heading there. It was easy, as he typically floated anyway.
Pop Star...
It was very pretty. He remembered thinking that.
He could also...sort of remember feeling something while he was there...
...Happiness, maybe...?
He could recall words to describe happiness-pleasant, good, addicting-, however, they meant nothing to him.
Why didn't he feel happy at the thought of returning?
All he could muster was frustration! Annoyance!
It was almost as though the emotion had been taken from him...
...and that thought haunted him all the way back.
Once he finally touched down (figuratively speaking), he glanced around, becoming slightly blinded by the sights around him.
Color! This place had all of its color back!
...That explained it.
He, himself, didn't have any color anymore, did he? And without that-without the soul in it-he didn't have positive emotions.
He was back to normal...something he really didn't want.
Immediately, he set his hands down on the grass below him, sucking it dry of color.
It didn't give him emotions like he wanted, but it was a start.
...Of course, while he was doing that, a curious passerby came over, wondering what he was up to.
That was its first mistake.
Its second?
"...um...Excuse me, sir", the person tapped on his, er, side, "what're you doi-?"
Then it gave a shriek as a hand latched onto its face, draining the creature of color as well.
He chuckled, amused. Dreamland's inhabitants were horribly dim, for the most part...
Once that was finished, he went and added a few more things for good measure; no other people came by, though he didn't seem to need them anyway.
When he was done, he seemed to have full range again.
In order to keep the mess as...conspicuous as possible, he set the creature down in the grass he had used, attempting to arrange everything so it looked like a rather boring statue.
Edibles were merely eaten, though they now lacked flavor.
Glancing back at his handiwork, giving a satisfied nod.
Unless someone went poking around, it wasn't horribly obvious he had been here.
Then, with that knowledge, he wandered off, to do Nova knew what.
Perhaps, maybe...just to indulge himself some more...