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At some point, the stars began to lose their life- their shine- leaving a pitiful residue in the inky black void. His stars ran out a long time ago along with his body and soul, to say it was a curse to be breathing was an understatement.
Trapped on that stupid moon, scarce in resource, cold...colder than Popstar... Oh how he couldn't help but mourn his dull life there. Wounds never healed, not his, never, they continued to bleed turquoise even after his last battle with the demon in pink. What felt like years were spent sat on that dusty surface, with nothing to do but to stare pitifully at that galaxy that should have been his...his and...
The jester couldnt help but think about all that transpired, he should feel guilty for it, but he didnt. Not one bit. You could call him a psychopath, a lost cause, irredeemable traitor to his own planet. He didn't care. He would do everything all over again and more if it meant he could meet the cat eared traveller, even for a second. It was selfish to want someone so much he knew for sure, besides, who wasn't selfish? Their king they oh so looked up to was. That naive little brat was, but nobody saw that side like he did. The traveller was no different, same mind, same goals, same understanding that magnetised their short lived relationship together.
When stars got boring, he drew.
When drawing became inconsistent, he dreamt.
When his dreams fizzled into longing, he looked back at the stars.
It's quite pathetic, isnt it? A hope someone with their own life and missions would come to his aid, he most likely forgot all that transpired between them, from simple laughter to shared, short intimacy. The jester didn't care though, it didn't matter if he did or didn't, the truth was if he did, he'd have come back... maybe.
On a particularly dull day...night...evening... the clocks chimes muffled in a vat of nothingness. Gazing up at the stars, a new colour emerged from practically nowhere, a lovely stew of deep violets and lapis, like a painting of what a dreamer would smear on a canvas when imagining the land beyond the skies. On closer inspection with his own cracked and dirtied glasses, he could make out an eluding figure. Draped in red and blue smokes with familiar fabrics laced around the neck area, topped with otherworldly horns nuzzled into tight curls that were pushed against nothingness.
He could recognise who it was.
How could he not?
No other star glowed as bright as that.
"Magolor..."
It was a squeaked out mutter, an exclamation to no one but the rocks he kneeled over. Weakness still racked over his being with the constant reminders of damage that wretch had caused him. What he himself chose to be inflicted by from a unwanted god. That didnt matter. What mattered was getting to that eartheal overlord he'd caught in his eyesight.
With no real thought, legs that had barely worked now uprooted him from his eternal keel, agony was a temporary thing; it used to be a temporary thing. Like clockwork, he began to walk...then jog...into a full sprint to capture every possible second of that small arrival as the past traveller continued to guard...something against the pink puff.
Just one glance.
One more tick of a hand to engrave it in his mind.
Just let him be selfish with little consequence for this.
A weak flutter of shattered glass wings sent him up for a split second before his entire being came crashing back down, rolling on the ground a few feet as the golden mechanical arms that had been engineered just for him dented and spilled oil.
A small loss of bearings...and he was gone. The sky had returned to its original state, now buzzing with a tension that would not cease for a good while. The fool would soak it up for as long as he could, before the novelty dwindled. A small turn to his side, he let out a train of shallow huffs as he faced the sky.
The stars seemed a lot more interesting once again. Maybe he would stargaze a while.