Ridi Strombolio
Content Notice
This story contains subject matter that some readers may find disturbing or difficult to read. Reader discretion is advised. Potentially troubling content listed below:
- Depression
- Self-loathing
- Suicidal Ideation/Attempt
- Depiction of a panic attack
This story takes place some time after the events of the third installment of Jack Thunder and the Fragments of Anima.
Ridi Strombolio
The Great Strombolio had many reasons to be proud. He was the Dark Champion of Altairus, one of the six heroes who had bested the Heart of Darkness all those years ago. He was the top performer in the Circus of Shadows, and he had become the ringmaster after he returned from the War. Altairians from all over the world dressed in his likeness for Summer's End every year. Countless statues were erected in his name, along with the other champions. He had a gentle and kind heart.
Not that you could tell any of this by the thoughts that ran through his head.
Strombolio rolled over onto his side. He had been awoken by a sudden fanfare outside his window. He knew what that meant. It was time to get up for work. When he was younger, he would have practically sprung out of bed, eager to start the day. But today he just curled into himself. Uuugggh... Don't wanna get up just yet...
Of course you don't. Why would you ever? Just go back to sleep. Maybe when you wake up, everything will be gone. That's what you really want, right?
He cringed. That voice. It was back. Tempting him to take the easy way out.
It wasn't always there. He remembered when it first showed up. He had trouble going back to work after the War. Something about being in the action and then going back to the circus. He thought he was just having a hard time adjusting. But then that voice started talking. Started saying scary things. Things about jumping off the top of the tent and mixing all the herbs in his apothecary and swallowing them all at once.
He never told anyone about the voice. Why would he? Why would he ever want anyone to know that the Great Strombolio, the Dark Champion of Altairus and the guardian of laughter and smiles, was having these demented thoughts? It was just... unthinkable.
You'd be thrown into an asylum before you could even explain yourself. Why don't you just lay here for a while? It's nice and comfy and you won't have to face what's outside.
Despite the voice's venomous words, he managed to work himself into a sitting position. He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there, staring at his own feet. He only snapped out of his trance when he heard knocking on his door.
"Sir? Are you alright in there? We need to get the carnival up and running."
"Yeah... yeah, I'm alright. I'm coming, don't worry."
He made his way through his daily routine as quickly as he possibly could. Still, he felt as though he were moving through molasses. He licked his lips. Some Amberjack Cider sounded really, really good right now. After the War, it was one of the few things that let him laugh and sing like his old self again.
But he remembered his promise to San. He had dumped out all his cider after he and the tengu had that talk in the woods only a few days ago. Besides, it's not as if the cider would help much. He had been needing more and more of that stuff to get the same rush from it. Perhaps it was all for the best, anyway...
Or perhaps it's just as pointless as you think it to be. Face it, Strombolio. You can't feel any shred of joy anymore without that stuff, and you know it!
Get out of my head! Strombolio commanded the voice. To no avail.
We both know I'm right. What will Altairus do when they find out that the Great Strombolio has lost his smile? If not even the guardian of laughter can smile, why should anyone else?
That was just too much. Tears sprung to Strombolio's eyes. He stood at his front door, propping himself against it, trying to calm himself, before finally pushing it open. He plastered a fake smile to his face. "Alright everyone! Sorry I was late! Let's all get to work!"
Instead of their usual cheering, the carnival crew all exchanged worried looks. One brave harlequin gremlin spoke up. "Um, boss? Are you... are you feeling alright?"
Your mask is slipping, Strombolio. Better make something up quick.
"Wha... What?! Yes! Yes! Of course I'm okay! Why in Altairus would you ever think I wasn't?! Heheheaahaahahaha!!!!" Good Anima, why do I sound so desperate?
The worried looks didn't go away. Strombolio began to panic. They didn't buy any of it. What could he do? What could he do?!
He chuckled nervously. "I... I think I'm kind of in a weird mood today. I'm fine, really. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine," he kept repeating, trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.
The other harlequin gremlins and nekomata still looked worried, but they all went off to set up their stations at the carnival. Strombolio sighed in relief. Whew. That was close. Talk about putting me on the spot, hehe...
That was terrible, Strombolio. The worst show you ever put on. Do you really think you convinced any of them? They saw right through it, just like everyone else sees through your act.
Strombolio shook his head. It didn't matter now. The day had begun. Strombolio made his way around the grounds, making sure everything was getting set up. Nothing out of the ordinary. Well, save for a few concerned looks from the roustabouts.
Strombolio looked at the day's schedule. He was scheduled for three performances. One at noon, one in the evening, and one at midnight. He shuddered. Before the War, he would have jumped at the chance to perform three times in one day.
Not so much anymore, huh? Not since Magnus left you all alone.
Strombolio wiped his eyes. There was no time to be sad now. He had work to do. He made his way into the tent and began setting up for his first performance.
The setup took way too long. But finally, it was done. Strombolio hid in the shade of the center stage. He checked the clock. It was a quarter to noon. Dark Carnival patrons had already begun to file in one by one. He took a deep breath. He could do this. He did this so many times before. He just needed to plaster a smile to his face for two minutes, then the show would begin. Easy as pie.
Would be a lot easier if I had some cider, though. Why had he thrown it all out again?
The lights dimmed and the calliope jolted to life. No time for that now. He ran backstage, preparing to make his entrance.
The music swelled and lights of all colors danced across the stage as the harlequin gremlin leapt onto stage. He jumped and skipped around a few minutes to the crowd's cheers. He stopped dead center stage and gave his welcome.
"How is everyone doing tonight in the Nursery Rhyme District?!" Raucous cheers and applause met his ears.
All of a sudden, he didn't feel right. Something about the room... felt off. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Just my imagination. He turned his gaze back up to the crowds.
"We- Welcome to-" he stopped. His voice hadn't come out right. It was... squeaky. Like he couldn't breathe. What was going on?!
All of a sudden, he staggered back. His entire body started trembling. Get it together, get it together... Everyone was watching. He couldn't afford to break down now.
Wonderful. Now everyone can see how pathetic you are.
Strombolio felt something on his cheek. He wiped it away. Looking down at his glove, he noticed a small wet spot. They were... tears?
Now you've done it! Now you've really done it! You're crying! The Great Strombolio is crying in front of everyone! The guardian of laughter reduced to a blubbering wreck!
His eyes darted all around. He was surrounded. The stage lights grew hotter and hotter. The tent. The tent was on fire! Why didn't the audience realize it?! They just whispered amongst each other. What were they saying?! Were they judging him?!
DO SOMETHING, YOU IDIOT!!!
Strombolio did the only thing he could think to do. He turned tail and ran. He bolted out the back of the tent, ignoring the shouts from the audience and his employees.
He made his way to the restrooms just across from the tent. Locking himself in a stall, he clutched the sides of the toilet bowl. He felt like he was going to throw up, but nothing came out. All he could do was keep sobbing and heaving, his thoughts a tornado around him.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!
YOU DON'T NEED TO BE SICK!!! YOU HAVEN'T EVEN EATEN ANYTHING TODAY!!!
YOU'RE USELESS!!! JUST AS USELESS AS YOU WERE IN THE WAR!!!
YOU COULDN'T SAVE A SINGLE ONE OF THEM!!!
YOU COULDN'T EVEN SAVE MAGNUS!!! YOUR OWN MENTOR IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!!!
ALL OF ALTAIRUS IS GOING TO FALL INTO DESPAIR BECAUSE OF YOU!!!
USELESS!!!
USELESS!!!
USELESS!!!
Strombolio heard a rapping at the stall door. "Sir? Is everything alright in there? You just ran off, and..."
The thoughts stopped. Strombolio still clutched at the toilet bowl, trying to get sense of where he was. All of a sudden, he remembered something. Something San had said to him a few days ago. Just before he dumped out all his cider.
"I think you're carrying too much responsibility for all of this. The fate of Altairus doesn't rest solely on your shoulders. Even in the War, it took all of us to defeat the Heart of Darkness. And we're still behind you. I'm still behind you."
Strombolio sat back down on the cold tile floor. San was right. Even if he wasn't there, the others were there to help. Slowly, the world stopped spinning. The shaking stopped. The nausea faded into nothingness. And the world returned to normal. He rested his head on the wall next to him. The one that separated the stalls. It felt cold against his cheek. He sighed. It comforted him.
Shakily, he stood up. The internal maelstrom may have calmed, but he still felt unsteady on his feet. He opened the door. Standing just in front of him was a harlequin gremlin outfitted in teal and black. Everyone in the Circus of Shadows knew him as Noire. The smaller harlequin gremlin looked up at Strombolio with a concerned expression.
"Sir, with all due respect, what has been going on with you?"
"Wha- is the show still on?" Strombolio managed to choke out.
Noire nodded. "Yes. They're doing the show just as we rehearsed. We just had to explain to the audience what was going on and continue as normal." He took a deep breath. "But I'm more worried about you."
Strombolio was at a loss for words. Did he really want Noire to know?
It was moments like these where he wished he hadn't thrown out all his cider. These things would be easier to tolerate through a drunken haze. Alas, he had no such comfort this time around.
"I... I'm..." Strombolio swallowed hard. "I-I'm not okay, Noire. I haven't been for a long time." He took a deep breath. This was it. He was going to rat himself out. Even if it meant being thrown in an asylum. "And I-I... ever since I got back from the War, there's been this v-voice in my head. It really scares me."
Noire cocked his head. "A voice in your head?"
Strombolio rushed to explain. "I-It's not telling me to hurt anyone or anything... no one except myself, that is... but... the worst part is I want to do it."
"Do what?"
Strombolio looked Noire straight in the eyes. "Ya know how before the War, I did this juggling act with all these swords? And how after the War, I stopped? It w-wasn't just because I was tired of the act. I..." He swallowed and took another deep breath. "It's because every time I pick one up now, I want to drive it through my own chest."
Noire's shocked expression just made him feel even worse. "I'm s-sorry. I shouldn't ha-have told you all this-"
Noire stopped him by grabbing his hand. "It's alright, sir. I'm the one who asked." He began to lead Strombolio out of the bathroom. "Come on. Everyone's waiting for you."
Strombolio opted out of the rest of the day's shows. The others understood. They nailed a sign to the tent's entrance. It read,
We're sorry! Due to unforeseen circumstances, the Great Strombolio is unable to join us this evening. Please enjoy the rest of the show!
He felt a pang of guilt when he saw the sign. True, he had taught them well. The show must go on, no matter what. Even if... even if it didn't involve him.
He made his way back to his trailer through the thicket just outside the carnival grounds. As he stepped in the door, a sudden hunger pang overtook him. That's when he remembered. He hadn't eaten anything all day. His stomach still felt a bit off, but whatever spiral he had gone into earlier, hunger had probably made it worse. He had to try and eat something.
He looked around. What was there? He spotted something out of the corner of his eye. That's when he remembered. He had managed to squirrel away a few apples and nuts when they were making the caramel apples for the Dark Carnival. He sighed in relief. He didn't want to go back out just to get food. He wasn't sure he had the energy.
So that's what he had. As he ate, he gradually lulled himself into complacency. He still didn't feel too great, but at least his now full stomach sedated him. It was eons better than the searing panic he'd felt just a few hours before.
He dragged himself over to his bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Perhaps tomorrow, it would all be better.
"Boss? Boss, wake up! We've got mail for you!"
Strombolio jolted awake. How long had he been asleep? He looked over at the clock. 3:00 AM. Well, he had definitely missed all of the shows. He stretched and worked himself into a sitting position, scowling at the drool stains on his pillow and jumpsuit. Seriously, Strombolio? You couldn't even be bothered to take your suit off before you crashed out?
"Uh... yeah, yeah. I'm coming. Just give me a second," he shouted back. Normally, he would have been embarassed for anyone to see him in this state. But right now, he didn't really care.
He opened the side door to his trailer to see the harlequin gremlin from that morning, clad in red, and a tan tabby nekomata standing in front of him. The latter clutched a handbag filled with notes in her paws. She reached into the bag and pulled out a stack of letters. "These are for you. They're from our fans. They wanted to know how you were doing."
Strombolio took the letters. He hesitated for a moment. Did he really want to open them?
Well, here it is. If there's any proof they hate you now, it's right there in your hand.
Shut up. He opened the first letter. Hey there, Strombolio! I heard you weren't feeling so well. I hope you're doing okay. We're all big fans of yours...
Huh? He opened the next letter. Hi. I saw what happened. I just wanted to let you know I care...
He leafed his way through the stack. Letter after letter was the same. All wishing him well and hoping he was alright. Not one expressed anger or disappointment for what happened.
He sat himself down on the steps of his wagon, head in his hands. This wasn't possible. No. It was unthinkable. He was the Great Strombolio. The one faery who had to keep smiling no matter what. And he had failed in that duty. So why weren't they mad at him?
No matter what angle he looked at it, he came to the same conclusion. They care about me. They really care about me.
"..."
"..."
"...heh..."
The two faeries in front of him snapped to attention. They turned their glance straight to him.
"...hehehe..."
Strombolio was laughing. Something about those letters had knocked something loose within him. It was soft and robotic at first, but it soon gained power and volume. Soon it had graduated to a full-blown belly laugh. He laughed so hard, big tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Boss! Are you okay?!"
Strombolio stopped laughing long enough to answer. He wiped the tears from his eyes. "Haha... Ah, I'm more than okay. At least I am now." He lifted his head to face the two. "Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed that."
The harlequin gremlin and nekomata before him breathed a sigh of relief. His smile had come home.
Strombolio trudged back from the ley spa he had just visited. It was a new experience, finding someone to talk to about his problems. Fortunately, ley spas around Altairus not only offered physical healing, but mental healing, too. He shouldn't have been too surprised. The War had been hard on a lot of people. There was a real need for this kind of healing in Altairus.
The minute he stepped into his trailer, he checked his medicine cabinet. The nice wood elf at the ley spa gave him a recipe for something he could make to feel better. He had ground up some of the herbs he had laying around his trailer and made it into a potion. It wasn't too difficult; he was used to having to make potions for workers who got sick on the road.
He took the potion out of the cabinet and poured a little bit into his old shot glass. He downed it with one swig. He had to admit that it was rather subtle compared to the cider he used to drink. But then again, it didn't produce an awful hangover or make him do things he regretted later. So it was a good trade-off.
He stole a glance out the window. The full moon hung low in the sky. All the leaves had fallen from the trees, and a thin coat of frost covered the ground. Winter had arrived in Altairus. The Dark Carnival may have packed up and left, but he and his employees still had a lot to do. They had scheduled a visit to Ygdrassil's grove for the Winter Solstice.
Strombolio wondered how Shadow-Paws was doing. He wasn't too worried about the nekomata. As big of a scaredy-cat as he was, Shadow-Paws had Jack Thunder, Frosti, Buckthorn, and San with him. They were all there for him. Just like his fans and employees were there for Strombolio.
Strombolio's wagon jolted to life. It lead the charge into the Emerald Woodland. He smiled. For real this time.
Next stop, Ygdrassil's grove!
Fin.
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