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BranzyCraft joined the game
Darkness. Noise. Something glittery, that was pretty, that might be for him.
A sword to his throat, a sharp strike to the back of his knees, and Branzy twisted, throwing a punch that connected satisfyingly with something that didn’t feel like skin.
“Holy-“
“Branzy!” Another voice, coming towards him, and Branzy was beginning to wonder why he’d spawned in darkness. “Hi, sorry, not sure why you spawned backstage, come on-“
“Minute?” Branzy turned, feeling something touch the back of his neck, and staying perfectly still. “I- I think-“
“I know. Stay still.”
Oh, so Minute was in on it. Branzy’s knuckles were tingling, vaguely itching for something better to punch.
He got it.
A sharp, soft pressure around his wrists, wrestling them away from the slight defensive position Branzy hadn’t even realised he’d assumed, and he fought back. His elbow flying out, his wrist wrenching back, shoving against a presence that suddenly resisted like a rock, pressing back against him and twisting in return.
A slight grin, tugging at his lips. The glitter of amethyst just in the corner of his eye. The knowledge that Minute was watching, but Branzy didn’t care, he’d learnt so much, and now he could prove it, no holds barred.
It was fun, to wrestle in darkness. Branzy had more raw strength than his opponent expected. Still no technique for shit, but he knew where to grab excess fabric and tug, where to throw back by the scruff like a rogue chicken.
He knew enough, was pleased with how well he remembered, until there was a firm pressure around his neck, and he hit the ground hard. Darkness spun, and his head ached, and there was a warm weight on his chest, hugging him until he couldn’t breathe.
“…Is it safe?”
Minute was laughing, audibly, and maybe Branzy was too, lost in the absence of light and the heat pressed against him and the impressive silence maintained throughout. He was lost, and he’d barely been online for five minutes.
“Yep.”
“Clown-“ Branzy giggled, struggling to breathe in with Clown’s weight fully settled over his ribs. “Clown, please, I- I can’t breathe-“
“Not my problem.”
Clown sounded tired. And happy. And a lot tired.
“Y- you saw me- like, weeks ago-“
“Not the same.”
“He said yes a month ago.” Minute was getting closer, thankfully, and Branzy wasn’t sure whether or not he’d missed his target when the admin crouched down to ruffle his hair. “But we’re happy to have him back.”
“I’m here? He- hello? Can’t- breathe?”
“Clown.”
Minute patted his head again, as Clown grumbled, and slid off, only to rest his head back directly over Branzy’s heartbeat.
“Missed you.”
“It’s been- weeks, c’mon-“
“Minute should have revived you.”
“No revivals, did you need me to ban you?”
“Fuck off.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Another laugh, breathless, because nothing and everything was different, and he’d missed this too. He’d missed them, without the pressures of socialising and content, without being an outsider.
“Are you guys okay back here?”
Jaron.
“Jaron! H- hi! I am- currently being assaulted.”
“Branzy!”
Jaron’s voice brightened, right on cue, delighted and fast approaching. He sounded like Rek, and Branzy hadn’t seen Rek properly in too long either, but it was a nice relief to feel at home again.
He’d teamed with Jaron, back in season five. That had been nice. He’d been a little too obsessed with Rek for Branzy’s liking, but not enough to get him deliberately murdered, so he hadn’t been that annoying.
“…Branzy?”
“He’s ok.”
“I think he’s okay.”
“‘M ok.”
Closing his eyes, Branzy relaxed back, one hand threading into Clown’s hair. He’d restrained himself, a little, back on Lifesteal World, knowing he’d get something like this soon. And Clown was so, so pretty.
“…right… Minute, we need to be- filming?”
“Yes. Soon.”
“Are you-“
“I’m sure.”
Clown hummed, violence coursing through the small vibration. It made Branzy laugh, just softly enough for the two of them, running his fingers through his hair again. It had been a while. He’d like to see Jaron try to get them away from each other.
“Do you two want a minute?” Minute spoke again, after just a moment in which their patience clearly ran out faster than Clown’s ever would. “We can wait, Branzy, we’re here for-“
“N- no. Clown? You wanna-?”
“No.”
“C’mon… you get to- hold up, do we have a script?”
Branzy looked up, wide eyes finding Minute through the darkness, and it occurred to him he still hadn’t seen his old friends in full light and on level footing yet. It seemed specific, but it also seemed to matter to him. He was here, he was with them, and that mattered, to him. He was one of them again.
“Yes. Clown’s read it. You don’t have to say anything.”
Minute’s teeth shone against his ink-black skin, and Branzy sensed a mercy in the crafting. They all knew he might get stage fright. He wouldn’t, he hadn’t years ago, he’d performed to all of them and killed them with the same glee, but it had been a while. He knew who’d be watching, when they did film.
“I get to be scared of you.” Clown spoke in a murmur, his mask slightly askew against Branzy’s chest, lilting with a quiet sort of excitement. “It’s going to be fun.”
Clown had changed. But he was still the same, in all the ways that mattered, and Branzy felt like he had changed to match. They both still had this, and they could relearn whatever had been missed in the heat of World, just weeks ago but seeming so much longer.
“That… does sound fun.” Carefully, Branzy propped himself up on one elbow, trying to lure Clown into moving off him, so they could move on and away from Jaron staring at them in a certain unplaceable unrestrainedness. “Let’s- go, then?”
“Your heart beats slower.”
“I- in general? Or- do you think I- I’m thinking of something?”
“When you’re scared.” Clown clarified quietly, nuzzling into Branzy’s clavicle like he was starving. “Unless you’re not scared.”
“I’m not.”
Another hum. Branzy went back to petting Clown’s hair, tugging backwards, just gently. They needed to get up. It was nice to lie down, to relax, a little, finally, but they needed to get up.
“We can wait.” Minute spoke like he could read both their minds at once, and Branzy glanced over at where he seemed a silhouette in the darkness. “How long do you two need?”
“I- in theory- no, sorry. Clown?”
“Five more minutes.” Clown moved, hugging Branzy tighter and hiding his mask in his shoulder. “You two can fuck off, too.”
“Charmed. Have fun, Branzy. It’s good to have you back.”
“It- it’s good to be back, Minute. Really, really good.”