A Petal-Perfect Memory
There was a time, long before the mess of it all, where he was a mortal man. A quiet clever lad with a shy smile and an ounce of self-consciousness. He never thought that a circus would be the one to change his life forever.
He dribbled around the idea of joining this particular company, because it meant leaving everything behind; his town, the people, his closest friends and family. It made his chest tighten with anxiety. Who would want to hire a man that only made his 15 minutes of fame? That’s absurd in the job markets.
Yet, this wasn’t some ordinary circus, according to its flamboyant Ring Master. Why squander the chance to entertain people beyond Faêrun, hells, beyond the Realms? Anybody would kill to be in his position.
The last fond memory he cherished from home, a child gifted him a small bundle of dead flowers. Despite the state of its brittle roots and chipping petals, they tearfully explained their failure to grow a good-luck charm; a reminder of everyone’s support.
He smiled, and found solace over something so delicate. He gently accepted it as he decorated his vest.
“You’ve given me a wonderful gift,” he told the child, “I’ll take good care of it because it will remind me to ‘leaf’ my worries behind. I know now that my journey will blossom.”
The child giggled as they wiped their face. “I’m… ‘rooting’ for you, Mister Norris!”
“Thank you, I’m so fern-tunate to have all of you.” He winked before joining in laughter.
