When I first saw a circus, I was only a child. I was so young, I could only remember bits and pieces as I grew older, but it was the important bits that always came to mind whenever I thought back. It was such a wondrous spectacle to behold, each illusion fascinating me and sending my imagination into a tailspin, a wild tornado of wild childish thoughts and wonders that was only spun faster by my parents. They happily contributed to my imagination, whispering wild explanations behind each trick, and naturally, I believed them, like I always did, my smile growing wider at each exaggerated word and fantasy voice my parents used.
Their twistings of reality didn't stop with the circus acts, however...Here I thought they loved me and accepted me for what I was then, and here I thought they would continue to do so no matter what I turned out to be, but reality was a hard pill to swallow for only the first thought turned out to be true, or that was what I chose to believe so I didn't lose all faith in love. The fact of the matter was they themselves had gotten me to believe in an illusion in my own life, loving me and accepting me at first, but then selling me off to a circus not even a week after the second bloom of these flowers. Now, my skin is dappled with these deadly beauties that were defiance realized, defying science and defying even themselves as these golden yellow flowers---buttercups as I've been told---brought me so much pain throughout my life.
How could something so beautiful carry so much pain, bring so much pain?
These little yellow devils, as someone very important to me would later call them, were nothing more than a curse and nothing short of a miracle, for I've lost count of how many times I've died. I know I have a little golden flower to mark each and every death, but it would be nearly impossible to count them all with how numerous they are. I remember the day he tried to count them all, and I smile whenever I recall how irritated he got whenever he would lose count up until the point he gave up with a frustrated huff and laid back on the ground next to me, himself laying in a tangled mess of flowers because we were sitting in the middle of a field full of them. He was so much bigger than me...his spine was as thick as my arm and his hand reached from the tops of my shoulders to the middle of my back...but as big as he was, he was always gentle, and he always danced with me whenever I asked and we were alone.
I loved it when he danced with me because it was better than when I danced for the ringleader, standing as just a puppet on a strong, bending and jumping to his will. Oh the pain those strings caused me as they dug deep into my skin, tearing and scarring their way into my flesh...
AA/N: Tada! This is a story co-owned and co-planned by ArcusArtifex and LunearTea!!! It will be a mix of our styles so hopefully the intention of this prologue will work as planned XD WolfixWritesUT, here's the story we were talking about with the "circus freaks!" :D Paige_Panda, here's the story with a Frisk very similar to our Rosy :) Similar, but not the same :3
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Circus Freaks (Flowerfell Sans x Frisk)
FanfictionSans' life was simple with an element of silence. As long as he did as told and remained at his post, he heard nothing but his brother's grumblings of how lazy he was, and while working as a security guard at a circus is never normal, it is *his* no...
