#onychs

See, Home is a construct determined by the self. Home is a variable that changes between each different troll. For some, home is a place, like their hive or their favorite cafe. For others, home can be a construct, like their religion. Perhaps it’s another troll, or their lusii. Maybe it's a specific object, such as a favorite stuffed toy or a framed photo of their quads. For Onychs, home was a circus. 

The air was lively, the night illuminated  by the lights from the circus she stood outside. With her hands resting on her hips, Onychs stared up at the colorful tent. Wherever she traveled, that tent followed. Or perhaps she followed it. She never strayed too far. The dancing lights, the bright colors, the smell of popcorn and cotton candy; it was all so familiar. And Onychs relished the familiar. 

She tucked her thumbs into her pockets and headed inside the tent. No matter how often she visited, she always paid the ticket fee. And she always bought a medium sized bag of popcorn. She always requested a specific seat. One in the back, where her size wouldn’t get in the way of the younger viewers, but where she had the perfect view. Onychs tossed a piece of popcorn into her mouth, glancing around the stage. She wondered briefly what the clowns had changed about their act this time around. 

As the lights dimmed, Onychs perked up. It was showtime! A dashing young man with short curly hair appeared in the center of the stage. He announced who he was, but Onychs already knew of course! He wasn’t who she was here for. But she loved him all the same. She loved his attire as much as she loved the silly patterns along the tent and the various things set up around the stage for the show. Onychs had seen this all many times before. It never got boring to her. 

The most amazing part of the circus was a specific little purpleblood. She never spoke a word during her performance, but she glided through the air on a tightrope like it was nothing. She made it seem so easy. Even having seen her skill countless times before, Onychs found herself left in a dazzled wonder. She clapped at every trick, laughed at every little visual gag, and found her cheeks hurt from how much she was smiling. It was so easy to watch this purple walk along the tightrope, because Onychs knew she would always be safe. She trusted the little purple as much as she loved her. 

For as much as she trusted the purple, she still found her heart dropping during the trapeze act. It was a thrill watching her perform so skillfully. But the thought of her favorite clown falling to her death was ever present, and prominent especially during those trapeze performances. Regardless, Onychs found herself clapping the loudest when it was all done. 

At the end of the show, Onychs tossed her popcorn away and headed out to explore the familiar carnival. Trolls milled about on rides and playing little carnival games. It was a peaceful festival, not like the usual religious sects that involved some form of murder. That was probably why Onychs found herself so drawn to this specific act. That, and her favorite little purple. 

In the distance, a white-haired woman, now clean of makeup and in more casual attire, meandered through the crowd. Onychs was able to spot her from a mile away, a smile away. She paused to buy a bag of cotton candy before she came up behind the white-haired woman. 

“There’s my favorite little clown!” 

The smaller woman turned around with a big smile; a smile that illuminated the carnival and illuminated Onychs’ pusher. The lime presented the cotton candy as if it were a bouquet of flowers, her own smile pulling at her cheeks. The purple tore off a small piece before eating it. Onychs offered her free hand to hold. Though she was much taller, she didn’t mind slouching for her favorite purple clown. 

“Your performance was as wonderful as always! You’re quite the showstopper, my lovely Pomppe.”