Poth Short Stories and One-Shots

Royal Pain: Chapter 1

"Hi, my name's Palette; what's yours?"

Goth looked up from his breakfast; a boy with a colorful stain on their right cheek grinned back at him while holding a tray of food. The young skeleton looked a bit taller than him and had plain clothing similar to his own: a dirty hat, an off-white dirt-smudged shirt, brown pants, and scuffed brown shoes; likely hand-me-downs from the orphanage director, much like his hooded off-white shoulder cape, grey shirt, brown pants, and brown shoes. The red scarf draped around his neck was the only colorful article he laid claim to; a memento from his deceased mother.

The boy tilted their head slightly, as if waiting for something... right, they had asked a question.

"It's Goth... I don't remember seeing you around here, are you new?" the smaller questioned. He heard that a new kid had arrived two weeks ago but had pushed the thought from his mind when no new faces had appeared.

"Yeah! The nice lady said I was living here now since I can't remember anything besides my name; she said it had something to do with the crack in my skull," Palette chirped, placing down his tray and lifting his hat to show off a jagged mark the size of the smaller's pinky on the right side of his skull. He couldn't remember anything... did that mean he had amnesia?

"Does it bother you? Not being able to remember anything, I mean," Goth quickly added, looking away in shame.

Palette quirked his mouth for a moment before shaking his skull, "Nah, everyone's really nice here and someone who knows me will find me eventually, so worrying about what I can't remember seems silly!"

Goth didn't expect that kind of response, gaping at the taller for a moment before stifling laughter. At least the new guy was optimistic. "Sorry," he took a breath, "you surprised me. Most people would be upset about not remembering their family or their past, but you're choosing to enjoy what's in front of you instead of dwelling on what you lost. Honestly, I'm impressed; I'm not sure if I could do the same in your situation."

Palette let out a chuckle, wrapping an arm around the smaller, "You're funny; I have a feeling we're going to get along great! We'll be best friends!"

Goth flushed at the statement; this kid seriously called him their best friend when they barely even knew him! On the other hand, having a friend for once would be pretty nice; most of the other kids ignored or avoided him. Figuring the worst Palette could do was start ignoring him like everyone else, he didn't see the harm in humoring the monster until they got bored of him.

---

Contrary to his initial expectations, Palette never got bored or tired of him; in fact, the pair had become nearly inseparable from each other.

From what he told Goth, Palette had been found unconscious near the smoldering remains of a burnt-out carriage; the caretakers guessed it was the result of bandits. He had spent the first two weeks of his stay in the sickbay recovering from his injuries and when it had been assessed that he had no memories to aid them in returning him to any remaining family, it had been decided he would stay at the orphanage instead.

Palette seemed to adjust well to life in the orphanage; the month passed by in a flash with the skeleton making many friends, but always spending the majority of his time with Goth. The pair were currently in the dormitories on the bottom bunk of their bed drawing since the taller skeleton had recently discovered his proficiency for art and was excited to pursue it. Since the smaller monster didn't mind what they did as long as they got to spend time together, he had managed to scrounge up some paper and crayons so they could make pictures together; he was drawing butterflies in a meadow while his companion was putting windows on a castle.