Chapter Text
In the darkest depths of midnight, wings spread above the ground.
No sound echoed from the shade, no ruffle of feathers or screech from their owner.
Only great shadows, leaping to and fro, glancing in the moonlight, blocking out starshine from the humble observer.
Said humble observer, one very alarmed and exhausted BranzyCraft, was left confused.
According to the admins, there were no real mods on Lifesteal, or at least none that would allow such a being, with massive feathered wings blocking Branzy’s stargazing, to spawn in.
Perhaps Branzy had finally gone mad, mad from the many, many, many hours he spent inhaling redstone dust and foregoing the mild code reset that was sleep. Or maybe his years of using chickens for his schemes were coming back to haunt him, in the form of a giant, silent chicken flying his way.
Either way, Branzy slowly stood up from where he sprawled out on the ground, muscles tensing. A quick glance at the small pond beside him, silver water reflecting the blocked-out starlight, revealed that this creature was real, not simply a hallucination. He reached one hand into his inventory, resting it upon his armor. If whatever this creature was —maybe some type of phantom? Or perhaps a rare and deadly glitch— decided to attack, Branzy would be ready.
Despite what many players thought, Branzy wasn’t useless in a fight. He was simply on a server full of monsters, players who had trained since they spawned into this world to fight and destroy others.
Branzy preferred to use his brain and his traps, but he did have his fair share of combat training. Not nearly as much as the aforementioned monsters, but enough to hold his own against a rogue, glitched-out mob.
Of course, in a worst-case scenario, Branzy could always call ClownPierce. The other player was for sure skilled enough to protect Branzy, no matter the enemy. Branzy just wasn’t sure if he fully trusted Clown.
Now, Branzy tended to be wary of other players, even his close friends and allies. It had saved his life more than once, his paranoia keeping him out of traps and schemes.
It would also be quite hypocritical to trust everyone. Branzy himself had betrayed his teammates on Clown’s orders recently, leading to him being fully dependent on Clown for aid. Maybe that had been his plan all along.
Branzy prided himself on his ability to read and manipulate players, make them listen when he wanted them to and forget what he didn’t want them to know. With Clown, however, Branzy didn’t know where he stood. The mask covered his face, and any real emotions Clown seemed to cover up with inane comments, flirting, or threats.
At this point, as dependent as he was on the other player, Branzy had even let himself grow comfortable to an extent, showing Clown some genuineness in his actions. He told Clown things, things no other players on the server knew about: how he and Rekrap first met; the meaning behind the colorful tattoo spiraling up his arm, now studded with hearts; why his traps always seemed a bit sadistic in comparison to his general mannerisms.
However, even as the two of them grew closer, long nights spent together, hunched over contraptions and mines and schemes, Clown never let his mask, literal and figurative, slip.
No, Branzy couldn’t trust Clown. He could handle this himself.
The shape in the clouds flew downwards, landing in a small pool of water in front of Branzy. A thin beam of moonlight arced down, enveloping the being’s wings in a gleaming shine.
Branzy gasped, maybe in fear, maybe in awe, as brilliant colors, bronzes and golds and silvers, revealed themselves in the water.
Blackness seemed to slide off of the wings as liquid dripped over them, a specific dull, unreflecting shade Branzy recognized as squid ink. So this creature was disguising itself for some reason?
Well, not for just some reason. Branzy could think of several, his mind flooded with images of the beautiful feathers decorating banners and cloaks and blankets in the busy market stall. Being sold as special addons, or premium fletching for arrows to fly fast and far, or to make exotic fireworks far greater than any chicken feather could make.
This being was smart to conceal itself as a shadow in the night.
A faint splash, and the creature turned towards Branzy, moonlight scattering onto its face and body, revealing a player.
Huh. Branzy thought Parrot was the only avian on the server, but this was for sure another. The small wings in place of ears, fluttering faintly in the cold; the massive wings stretching out from the player’s back, poking through sewn-in holes in their shirt; the hands and feet that elongated and sharpened into talons.
The face, however, Branzy didn’t recognize. One blue eye and one orange, both burning with a hidden fire, stared up at the very stars Branzy once had. Their curly brown hair, woven through with the same bronze, gold, and silver feathers as the wings, blew faintly in the wind. Scars laced their way around the player’s face, clawing across the nose and cheeks. Branzy winced, imagining the wound that would make those scars, particularly the ones slicing vertically over those brilliant eyes.
There were several “faceless” players on the server, whether they wore masks, didn’t really have faces, or used magic or coding to hide what they looked like. And Branzy, being himself, had made it his business to see them all, to gather more information on everyone, to make sure he had power, so no one would ever dare hurt him.
All but one.
Branzy stared at the being, the player, the avian, who could only be ClownPierce.