Work Text:
ClownPierce whispers to you: “Branzy”
Branzy checks his communicator with narrowed eyes. He waits for a moment for a follow up message, but nothing comes. He clicks it off and shoves it back in his pocket as he sighs. It would buzz anyways, if he got another message, so no use in just staring at the screen.
He turns back to his task at hand. Twirling a knife in his hands, he studies the pumpkin in front of him. He had drawn out Clown’s mask-face on the pumpkin, and was debating about where to start with the carving. He figured it would be neat to have a pumpkin equally as frightening as the entrance of the casino to place outside. His pumpkin was the biggest he could find in the server patch that they had planted for the spooky season, but it still didn’t feel big enough for the extremely large casino entranceway.
The pumpkin continues to stare back at him with beady eyes. He had already gutted the thing, it’s innards all over his work table. He had covered the table with multiple layers of paper beforehand, though. He wasn’t stupid, if he actually got pumpkin guts on his desk it would smell for weeks.
It’s Halloween today, and the server is more than excited to celebrate.
Clown had left early in the morning to do… whatever it was he did when he didn’t tell Branzy. There’d been a few death messages in chat too, here and there. Not enough to raise any concern, most likely just some Halloween games and pranks.
Maybe Branzy should be hanging out with the others today, but he had his priorities set in stone. Clown hadn’t even asked him to do this, he decided to with his own free will. Plus, Branzy always had fun carving pumpkins on previous (slightly less violent) servers.
Branzy digs his knife into the pumpkin finally, starting at Clown’s eye. He becomes engrossed in his work, carefully working the knife through the pumpkin’s flesh, working with precision. He barely even registers the buzz of his communicator as he works. The second buzz, though, he notices. Two messages in quick succession could mean Clown was impatient, he had learned.
Branzy rolls his eyes as he finishes up the first eye of the pumpkin. Holding the knife in one hand, he reaches for his communicator.
ClownPierce whispers to you: “Go 500 blocks behind the casino. You’ll know what to do from there.”
ClownPierce whispers to you: “Now.”
Branzy’s almost tempted to respond with a “I’m busy” but very quickly reconsiders. Upsetting Clown wasn’t usually the best idea, and this seemed at least a little urgent.
He sets the dirty knife back onto his desk, grabbing his spare butterfly knife to shove into his pocket. He preferred this one anyways, more pristine, sharper blade… it was a gift from Clown. That’s why he hadn’t used it to cut the pumpkin. He slips his satin black gloves out of his waistcoat pocket and puts them on, debating if he should bring anything else. Clown hadn’t mentioned any violence, but it’s always best to prepare for the worst with him. So, Branzy slips some potions and gapples into his inventory.
He leaves his study, locking the door behind him and heading out the back door of the casino, locking that one too. Who knows how long this would take, so he’d rather be safe than sorry.
The walk was average. As average as walking in a random direction 500 blocks could be. Branzy was ready for anything, hopefully.
He reaches the 500 block mark and notices an obsidian staircase in the ground. This was not going to be good…
Branzy takes a deep breath and starts heading down the staircase. If Clown said he’d know what to do then this must be the right thing, because he saw no other options.
The staircase gets increasingly darker as he travels down, the next light source still yet to be seen, the only evidence of its existence being a faint glow farther down the stairs.
He continues down, finally seeing a soul lantern hanging from the ceiling at a landing on the staircase. It was a miracle that mobs hadn’t spawned on these stairs, really.
Branzy reaches the landing and looks around. There’s two ways to go from here, further down the ominous obsidian stairs, or to go left from the landing through a still ever ominous obsidian hallway. The amount of obsidian in this place was honestly quite alarming.
Branzy huffs out a breath, almost tempted to call out Clown’s name to see what was happening, but he thinks better not to. If this was a trap that someone else had set then him shouting would alert them to his whereabouts. He finally decides on taking the hallway.
The hallway wasn’t actually that long, he could see the end of it in his render distance after only walking for half a minute. At the end of the hallway was an iron door with a pressure plate in front of it. Branzy picks his pace up to a jog, tired of the anticipation.
He stops right before the pressure plate, tempted to check the area for traps, but honestly there was much he could check for in the one block wide obsidian tunnel. So, he bounces on the balls of his feet and quickly walks onto the pressure plate and through the door.
His body lurches down, pulled by gravity.
His hands scrabble for purchase on the obsidian walls as he plummets down the hole. Wind rushing past him, he gasps out a breath. It felt like it was all going in slow motion, yet extremely quickly.
Branzy clasps his eyes shut and accepts his fate. Another heart lost, another disappointment. As usual.
But it doesn’t happen.
He lands and he doesn’t die.
His eyes surge open as he looks down to find that he landed in powdered snow. Convenient.
He lets out a half-scream of anxiety and pulls himself out of the snow before he starts to freeze to death. He didn’t want that killing him after surviving the fall… or maybe a heart attack would kill him instead.
Branzy shakes his head, trying to gain clarity past his racing heart, his white hair falling into his eyes. He pushes it away from his face and takes a first look at the new room he was in.
Small puddles sit scattered across the obsidian floor, but the lack of a good light source makes it impossible for Branzy to tell what the liquid is. He takes a few cautious steps forward and starts to hear various mob sounds from around him.
He looks around vigorously, trying to identify where the sound is coming from, when he feels liquid drop onto his head. Just a drizzle, but definitely something. He reaches up to grab his hair, still wary of the sounds surrounding him, and looks upward to see where the dripping was coming from.
A drop lands on his lips and he immediately can identify the liquid. Blood. It was blood. He quickly looks back down away from the ceiling, but there were already trails of blood sliding down his face.
“Oh shit…” he whispers to himself. All the puddles were blood. There was so much blood. The blood starts dripping from more spots on the ceiling as Branzy starts to rush through the room, splashing the puddles on accident as he tries to find somewhere to go. He slips and falls in a puddle as he rushes, more blood soaking into his clothes. He picks himself up though, as quickly as he can, and scrambles for a button he finds on the wall. He didn’t know what it went to, but he was desperate as the floor started to become more of a blood pool than a bunch of blood puddles at an alarming rate.
That was a mistake.
The floor drops out from under him as he falls a short distance, taking fall damage as he lands, but not enough to kill. He opens his eyes and the room is pitch black. He couldn’t see anything, all he felt was a hard obsidian walk behind his back.
Then, a familiar sharp curve rests against his neck.
“Oh for fucks sake, Clown,” Branzy rasps out, laughing a bit.
The metal of the scythe bites into his neck more. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to certainly sting. He feels his space get crowded as the man draws closer.
“You scared, Branzy?” he hears, like the words ghosting his face, even though he knew he wouldn’t feel the breath from them.
“Mmhmm,” Branzy lets out weekly, nodding his head slightly.
The metal is drawn away from his neck quickly as the man in front of him steps back. He hears a snap and candles light up around the room.
Branzy gasps, half out of relief, and half in awe of the beautiful room. There was a small, low, round table with a lone rose in a vase at the center of it. Two pillows sit on either side of it as seats, and the plates had Halloween themed snacks scattered about. The room was decked out in red and black candles, and, keeping with the theme, the whole place was made of obsidian.
Clown stands in front of Branzy, a distance away with his head cocked to the side, waiting for more form Branzy. His jester mask was over his face, smiling menacingly as usual.
“Oh gosh…” Branzy huffs out, his breathing still not steady from the fear of earlier.
“Impressive, right? Thought we could have some fun,” Clown replies lightly, gesturing around the room with his scythe.
“By fun, do you mean scaring me half to death while you get to watch?” Branzy says with narrowed eyes.
“Maybe. Or maybe it was to get you how I like best,” Clown says as he walks a little closer to Branzy.
Branzy lets out a nervous laugh as he asks, “Skittish and frightened?”
“Covered in blood,” Clown says darkly.
Branzy takes a sharp breath in, eyes widening as he’s reminded of what he just went through. He tugs a strand of white hair into his view, and to no one’s surprise, the white is tinted with red.
“Who did you kill for this?” Branzy says nervously.
“Does it really matter?” Clown lets out lightly, drawing closer still.
Branzy could practically feel the bloodlust racing under Clown’s skin as he drew closer. Branzy could even remember feeling that bloodlust on occasion. When he killed Spepticle in the funhouse… sometimes some blood could be fun. Branzy never felt powerful enough to draw it from someone, but when he did, it felt amazing.
Branzy subconsciously starts to scrub at his cheek, feeling the filth laying into his skin. Clown quickly grabs his hand in both of his, drawing it down from his face, Clown’s scythe seemingly thrown to the side now.
“Please, don’t.” he lets out breathily.
That’s when Branzy’s eyes take on a sharp focus, looking from Clown’s hands to his face. Clown notices the difference immediately and pulls his mask off in one swift motion, tossing it lightly to the side.
Clown’s red eyes hold a similar want as he stares at Branzy.
Branzy pushes his white-tipped black hair out of Clown’s eyes as he holds his face. He’s so beautiful. Branzy wished he would show his face more, something so pretty shouldn’t be kept so hidden. But, at the same time, knowing it was their little secret filled him with a curl of pride.
Clown’s hands travel to Branzy’s face and they both stand there for a moment, just watching, tracing each other’s features with their eyes.
Their eyes meet and they both rush together, lips colliding. Branzy traces Clown’s jaw as they make out, leaving bloody fingerprints across his skin. His lips felt rough, but not in a bad way. Just in a very… Clown way. Clown bites down a little on his lip as Branzy hums into the kiss.
They continue until they run out of breath, pulling away but setting their foreheads against each other.
“Could have been scarier,” Branzy whispers with a smirk.
Clown pulls away from Branzy’s grasp entirely with a fake gasp and offended look, backing away towards the table. Branzy pouts at the loss of contact.
“Really, what else do you want me to do for you? Try to almost kill you a couple more times?” Clown sighs as he stops to stare at Branzy, who starts to follow.
Branzy giggles and takes Clown’s hand as he says, “Just kidding. It was a great spooky prank. Very deadly.”
Clown leans in closer and lips at Branzy’s jaw and then smiles against him. “Good. Happy Halloween Branzy.”
Branzy leans their foreheads back together as he breathes out, “Happy Halloween Clown.”