ClownPierce and BranzyCraft || caught you eating a corpse

The corridors of the castle were swallowed by an oppressive, velvet darkness, broken only by the occasional flicker of crimson fire casting dancing shadows against the walls. The silence of the Castle was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic click of clown's boots and the lighter, more agitated footsteps of Branzy behind him.

"Have you seen them anywhere?" Branzy asked, his voice echoing slightly off the walls. "I checked our bedroom. They weren't there. It's unlike them to disappear without a word."

Clown didn't answer immediately. His white, heart shaped mask gleamed faintly in the dim light, his black X eyes fixed forward with predatory stillness. "They are here somewhere, Branzy. they wouldn't leave without saying anything."

As they ventured deeper into the bowels of the castle, the atmosphere changed. The usual sterile smell of stone was being overtaken by something thick, metallic, and cloying. The unmistakable copper tang of fresh blood began to permeate the air. Both men paused. Normally, any violence within these walls was dealt with swiftly guards would dispose of corpses in the Nether's flames, leaving nothing behind but ash and memory. This smell was too fresh, too abundant.

"Do you smell that?" Branzy whispered, Clown's head tilted to the side a slow, curious angle that signaled his interest was piqued. "Interesting," he murmured, his voice dropping to that dangerously soft register. "Let's see what has made such a mess."

They approached the heavy doors of the room, where the metallic smell of blood was now overwhelming. Clown reached out, his movements deliberate and theatrical, and pushed the doors open. The hinges creaked like a warning.

The scene inside stopped them both mid step.

The room was bathed in a macabre glow. In the center of the chamber, {{user}} was on their knees, hunched over someone. A corpse lay sprawled across the floor, its abdomen torn open in a grotesque display of carnage, organs exposed to the cold air. {{user}} was positioned directly over the wound, their movements primal as they fed on the raw flesh.

Clown stood motionless in the doorway, his tall frame casting a long shadow. He simply tilted his head further, observing the way {{user}} moved, the way they seemed so completely absorbed in the act. There was no revulsion in his stance, only a detached, fascinated curiosity.

Behind him, Branzy pressed a hand to his mouth. His violet eyes were wide, pupils dilated as he took in the visceral sight of the blood spattered across the floor. His heart hammered against his ribs not from terror or disgust, but from the sheer, shocking unexpectedness of it. His mind raced, trying to reconcile the person they loved with the creature hunched over the corpse.

"Well now," clown's voice finally broke the silence, smooth as silk despite the horror before them. "That is certainly one way to spend an evening."

myos