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Morro doesn’t know whether he should laugh or cry.
It figures that even now, with the realms merged and vaster than ever, he still can’t shake Lloyd Garmadon. He doesn’t even know where he is, just that it’s a small town that seems like it might have belonged in Ninjago once, though the snow and ice are new. And yet, it doesn’t matter how far out in the sticks this place is, separated from much of anything else by barren stretches of departed realm murk, because destiny still has jokes up its sleeve.
For his part, Lloyd looks just as surprised to see him, gaping a little, green eyes big and wide. And even if he keeps his composure well enough, Morro doesn’t miss the tension that winds up through his frame. The bracing for an attack that, as far as Morro’s concerned, won’t come. Funny to think, after all these years, the kid is still spooked by a ghost from the past. Or, maybe he isn’t so much a kid anymore. He looks older, the lingering baby softness to his face pared down, and he’s a little more grown into the gangly teenage limbs Morro got used to controlling. Still, Morro flashes a toothy grin, an old, habitual satisfaction curling in his gut at the way Lloyd’s surprise bleeds into caution and skepticism. It’s tinged with something newer, something bitter, though, on the back of his tongue.
“Morro,” Lloyd says, brows pulled in, voice decidedly not particularly friendly.
Far more loose and casual, Morro takes a pace forward, feet phasing through the thin layer of snow and frost. Tipping his head to size Lloyd up, he looks him up and down. They’re strung through the gap between two buildings, a shortcut Morro was taking out of the main strip of the town. With any guesses, he’d say Lloyd had just the opposite idea. Hardly a surprise, given how much they seem to find themselves at odds. “What, not happy to see me, Greenie?” Morro asks, realizing it’s a little harder to leer down at Lloyd when one of them grew, and the other has been stagnant for decades. While not exactly reaching the top shelf himself, Lloyd has a few inches on Morro now, flipped from how it used to be. Something about that scratches at Morro’s mind; it doesn’t seem fair, somehow.
“I mean, can you blame me?” Lloyd asks. And, alright, Morro winces a little at that—inwardly and very much not visible to Lloyd, thank you very much—because, no, he really can’t blame him. The days of possessing his little cousin and just about wrecking everything, stuck under the thumb of the Preeminent, weren’t his brightest moments. He can admit that, now. Still, he crosses his arms over his chest, one corner of his mouth turning down.
“Hey, don’t forget who saved your ass last time we saw each other,” Morro puts in. And the reminder actually seems to work, a little. Lloyd is still eyeing him with plenty of suspicion drawn up into the green of his eyes, but his shoulders do drop a little.
“Well, sorry if I’m still a little skeptical,” Lloyd replies, but it feels a lot less toothy now, hackles lowered some.
Morro huffs a breath that doesn’t cloud up despite the cool air, a little amused. For all the ways Lloyd has changed, he certainly hasn’t lost that little spark Morro got so intimately aquatinted with. Even if it feels more honed now, more refined with less of the childish snark that echoed at length in Morro’s head, the edges of it are very familiar.
“Whatever floats your boat,” Morro answers with a shrug. “But for the record, you can relax. I’m not really in the business of destroying realms anymore. The world pretty much took care of that one for me.” With a tilt of his head, he gestures towards the strange marbling of the blue and faded green that make up the sky. Even after years, the haphazard patchwork is still a bizarre sight, mismatched lands chunked together as far as the eye can see.
Speaking of bizarre sights, it strikes him that Lloyd is all on his own, no fruit-colored trail of ninja at his side. He half expects Kai to come hurtling out of the bushes any moment, hands wreathed in flame, protective threats at the ready. But while Lloyd does his own share of appraising, no one else materializes from the snow-dusted landscape. And the only voices around come from the amiable chatter drifting through the town’s center street.
“I - guess you aren’t wrong,” Lloyd eventually relents. While his guard doesn’t drop completely, he shifts his stance into something more comfortable, less readied.
“Of course I’m not.” The answer comes easy, old pride dredging up. It surfaces quicker around Lloyd, just like it used to. And confronted with someone torn right out of the pages of his memory, it’s easy to see all the ways he hasn’t changed. All the bitter ambitions, set to rest in his chest, don’t exactly spark back to life, but they do turn to an ache he isn’t sure he likes. Either way, he softens the pressure of it with a quiet sigh.
Not sinking down to jab back, Lloyd quirks a brow. “So, if you’re not here to make a mess of things, then what are you doing?” he asks, genuinely curious.
And isn’t that just the million dollar question? Ever since his plans fell to dust and he melted into the sea out beyond Stiix, he hasn’t exactly had a pressing schedule. No one does in the departed realm. What is there to do when you’re dead but not quite gone? If anyone knows the answer, it certainly isn’t Morro.
“Nothing important,” he says, waving off the question, but Lloyd narrows his eyes. Of course he would take a vague answer for a secretive one. “I mean it,” Morro adds, emphasis on every word. Genuinely, he hasn’t had a single important thing to do in what feels like a very long time. And something must show through on his face, the slight hollow ache in his chest that isn’t just from missing a beating heart, because Lloyd relents. The light of his eyes goes a little softer, and the set of his mouth turns from firm to far more gentle. It feels a little like Lloyd has seen more than Morro wants him to, even if all he’s peering in at is the truth. Trying to smooth back the instinctive prickle of his hackles, he turns the attention back off of himself.
“I could ask you the same thing? What brings the legendary green ninja all the way out to this backwater town?” he asks.
A little sheepish, Lloyd just rubs at the back of his neck for a beat, gaze straying. “It’s kind of a long story.”
Listening to the dull crunch of footsteps in the snow on the street behind them, Morro makes up his mind. Anything is better than the aimless wandering, the living at the periphery. Even just for a moment, he’ll take the chance at hand for a crack in the monotony. “Time’s literally the only thing I never have to worry about running out of.” Not strictly true, since too much sun could turn this entire town into a sopping death trap and cut his time short. Though, then again, he isn’t really sure what would happen to him if he lost the fight to a spray of water, now that the realms have all knit themselves together. In case the outcome isn’t particularly pretty, though, he’d rather never find out.
In any case, a few breaths fogging off chapped lips, Lloyd stares at him like he just grew a second head. “Are you actually asking to spend more time than you absolutely have to with me?” he asks, bewildered. And maybe, if Morro is still as good at reading all his little ticks and tells as he used to be after a stint in his body, he might like the idea a little bit too.
“Look around, Green Bean, it isn’t like either of us have people lining up to get our attention,” Morro says, gesturing to the quiet alley all around. “So, do you want to tell your story or not?”
For a minute, Lloyd just chews at his lip, considering. And probably making it more raw than the cold and wind have already done for him. But he comes to a decision with a resolute nod. Before Morro can suggest they move to a nicer spot if they’re going to have a proper conversation, though, Lloyd brings his comm to his mouth.
“Arin, Sora, I- uh, ran into someone I haven’t seen in a while. Once you’ve got the part you need, don’t wait up. I’ll meet you back at the Bounty when I’m done, okay?”
A response crackles through, touched with static, but there’s enough distance between them that Morro can’t pick out many of the words. Just two unfamiliar voices and the buzz of wind through the speakers. Once the comms quiet back down, Morro levels a curious gaze at Lloyd, catching his eye.
“What, did you get tired of your old friends or something?” he asks. From what he remembers, Lloyd and the other ninja seemed really attached, always fighting to get back to each other. It was what made them such a nuisance back when he needed Lloyd’s body to get what he wanted. The fact that the rest are nowhere to be seen and apparently aren’t around enough to even bother getting in touch with strikes him as strange. As does the addition of whoever Arin and Sora are.
At the question though, Lloyd looks a little like he’s valiantly trying to avoid crumpling after someone punched him in the gut. His brows furrow, and even though there’s an inkling of a smile touching his lips, it’s obviously strained. A twinge of guilt actually surfaces in Morro’s chest; he wasn’t really intending to strike much of a nerve. It looks like he hit one regardless though, even if Lloyd is carefully rearranging his features into something more neutral again.
“That’s kind of a long story too,” he sighs, weight carrying through the sentiment, pulling it down at the ends.
“Well, add it to the list then,” Morro says, a little uneasy with the emotion clouding in Lloyd’s eyes. He does his best to brush past it, turning his attention back toward the center street at his back. Villagers still mill by every now and again, carrying whole fish by the tails or shouldering rakes and scythes on their way to the patches of farmland down a little ways. “Not here, though. Come on.”
Without complaint, Lloyd follows him out beyond the limits of the town to where the ground slopes up. It turns to a craggy bluff, overlooking a sprawl of green and grey haze that belonged to the departed realm. If Morro has any guesses, the chunk of rock and snow here used to be part of a bigger mountain, but got cut off and sewn in here, between the village and murky lands beyond. Because of that, it isn’t all too tall and makes an easy climb to the top. Out of earshot and high off the ground, it’s a bit easier for Morro to loosen a little.
Sitting down in the snow, he lets his legs dangle as Lloyd takes a seat beside him. It’s colder up here, Morro knows, even if he can’t properly feel it. But either way, Lloyd doesn’t complain, bundled warm against the dropping temperatures. Though his face, exposed, is a little pale from the cold.
“Last chance to back out before I start talking, and once I get started, I’ve been told it takes a very, very long time for me to stop.” One side of his mouth curled to a smile, Lloyd casts a questioning glance over at Morro. There’s something hopeful threaded through it too, and oddly enough, Morro finds he doesn’t really want to snuff that hope. Deep behind his ribs, he wants to feed it instead, and that unsteadies him a little. But either way, he flashes a returning grin, a little sharper but not unkind.
“Unfortunately you’re a little too late to bore me to death, so you might as well go for it,” Morro replies.
And oh boy, does Lloyd go for it. Morro remembers the kid being chatty, a near constant presence in his head for days and days on end. But then, it was still a tactic, not just a conversation. He was always trying to wear at Morro’s will, to break the possession. Time and time again, he was flooded with determined remarks and promises that the ninja would win out and even appeals for Morro to stop what he was doing and see the light of a better path. None of it worked, of course, but the intent behind the ceaseless jabs was transparent. Lloyd wanted him to give in.
But now, there’s no reason for Lloyd to talk to him other than the simple fact that he wants too. And he apparently has a lot to say, because Morro sits for what feels like ages on that cliffside, listening to pretty much a full recount of everything Lloyd has been through from right before the merge, up through the years until now. And he sees, now, where he dug into a sore spot before, about the other ninja. Torn apart in the merge, Lloyd tears up when he mentions what happened, voice going a little wobbly. And for a minute, he stops altogether, gritting his teeth and blinking moisture from his lashes.
Morro didn’t exactly sign up to play therapist, so he just waits it out, even with the uncomfortable ache worming in behind his sternum. Lloyd isn’t the only one who lost something in the merge, so Morro understands the feeling, at least to some extent. But it sinks barbs in behind his ribs and he keeps his mouth shut until Lloyd collects himself enough to keep going. Wiping his eyes, sniffling, Lloyd skirts around the more personal details and turns to the more factual instead, recounting how he spent his days in the monastery. And eventually, it all leads around to Arin and Sora and kidnapped dragons. Then, beyond that, to a faulty rudder on the Bounty that sent them veering off course far enough to end up here.
“Arin and Sora went to find the part we need to replace the rudder, and I was supposed to be looking for supplies to restock with. I never would have guessed I’d find you here instead,” Lloyd says, finally running out of steam.
Morro laughs, a little sharp, a little bitter. “The world has a weird sense of humor, doesn’t it?” he asks in return. And really, Lloyd would know that better than most. Morro still has a lot of blanks when it comes to exactly how Lloyd got to be the green ninja, but over time, and with a particular reformed sensei having stuck annoyingly close to him in the departed realm, he knows a lot more than he used to. And fate and destiny and the whole of the realms seem to get quite a kick out of messing with Lloyd.
When Lloyd chuckles a little in return, it’s a whole lot warmer than what Morro feels. Tired, though. A little worn through. “Tell me about it,”he says, gazing off into what used to be a distant realm. Now it’s practically at their fingertips.
For a handful of moments, it’s quiet, just the rush of the chilled winds blowing by. Something stirs in his chest at the sound, then turns sour.
“Look, I’m sorry about your friends,” Morro eventually says, surprising even himself with the fact that he really does mean it. No strings attached and no conflicted feelings about it. Losing things sucks, and losing family sucks even more. It hardly matters if it’s to a betrayal or a crazy natural disaster; the people are still gone either way. More often than not, Morro… doesn’t like to think about that sort of thing. There’s a lot he crams into the dark, cobwebbed corners of his mind and tries to forget. But this once, he lets the hollowness, the loneliness, come out.
Wanting something he can’t have hurts, but he’s used to the bleed of it.
Lloyd swallows, eyes a little shiny again. “Thanks,” he says, voice a bit clogged with emotion but no less sure for it. “That - that actually means a lot, coming from you.”
“Coming from me?” Morro asks, a brow raised. If anything, he figured his sentiments would hold just about the same value as dirt in Lloyd’s eyes. Well, Lloyd has too good of a heart for his own good, so maybe not, but either way, he would have assumed Lloyd wouldn’t be too quick to put stock in what he says. “Enlighten me,” he tries.
Lloyd rubs at his nose, skirting Morro’s gaze for a bit with something sheepish rising into his expression. “It’s just - don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but you’re not really a nice person.”
“Thanks,” Morro says, dry, with a roll of his eyes.
“I just said don’t take it the wrong way!” Lloyd cries out. And for one baffling second, he reaches out like he wants to—
It - It looked affectionate.
Whatever the touch, whatever the meaning behind it, it evaporates when Lloyd catches himself and jerks back into his own personal space. He clears his throat, a light pink blush dusting over the bridge of his nose. “I just meant that, if you’re saying it, then they aren’t hollow words. You’re not just being nice for the sake of being nice, you know?” Lloyd explains, just a little cowed.
“Familiar with that, are you?” Morro questions, flashing a smile with canines because sharper feels easier. Loosens the strangling bubble of something swelling in his chest.
Lloyd scoffs, a disbelieving sort of noise in the back of his throat. But the corners of his lips are curving up anyway. “You’re a pain in the butt,” he informs.
“How old are you now? Nineteen? Just say ass,” Morro huffs, a little amused. Or maybe a lot. Some things really still are the same, and no matter how old he is, Lloyd is still a goody two shoes at heart.
“Nice try, but I’m twenty-three,” Lloyd answers, grinning like he won at something. And for some reason, that doesn’t spark the same irritated burn in Morro’s chest that it used to. He kind of hates that it doesn’t. “And Master Wu doesn’t like it when we swear. Not that it really stops anyone most of the time. Kai used to get smacked with his staff all day long for the way he talked, but it never stopped him. Master Wu realized it was a lost cause eventually and gave up on him. Now he just sighs and shakes his head about it.”
Warmth blooms in Morro’s chest, twined in alongside something deep and achy. “That sounds like him. He used to threaten to wash my mouth out with soap, but he never actually did it. I always thought I was getting away with something, but I’d bet it was just an empty threat all along.” He rarely allows himself to dust off those sepia-toned memories, gone warm and fond with time. But, they’re nice to turn to, every once in a while. A little taste of the only home he’s ever known. A reminder of the fleeting time when life actually went right for once. When he had a roof over his head to block out the rain, hot meals home cooked and shared with pleasant company, and someone he could look to and feel safe for the first time in his life. And the last.
“He still has a soft spot for you, you know,” Lloyd says, voice gone gentle and kind. “Or, last I saw him anyway.” Something in his expression softens, warms. “It actually used to make me jealous. That you were his kid and I was just his nephew. I could never understand why you of all people got a special spot in his heart like that. And to be honest, I still don’t fully understand, but I think I’m starting to.”
That’s…
Morro feels a little dizzy, all of a sudden. Head a bit hazy, heart squeezing in his chest even if it doesn’t beat, he lets those words sink in. Or tries to, anyway.
“I was his student,” Morro corrects, voice low, just a little hoarse. Because this line of thinking is dangerous territory, and if he entertains it for more than a moment…
“You were his kid,” Lloyd says again, simple and easy. Like it’s an indisputable fact.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Morro buries his face in his hands. He knows better than to listen, to let the thoughts take hold. But he wants to. He wants to. Because ever since the realms merged, he’s had nothing and he’s had no one. Even just the notion that someone out there may of thought of him without vitriol and venom in their teeth makes his chest squeeze with something he can’t identify. And now, it’s even gotten to the point where Lloyd is starting to feel like good company.
He didn’t realize he was so lonely.
Not until he got a taste of what he was missing.
But then, reality takes root, a cold gust curling up the mountainside. Mood souring again, Morro scrubs over his face before he sits back up out of his slump. The past is gone, and no matter what he may or may not have had back then, he knows he can’t get it back. Any of it. And there’s nothing to his name now, just a ghost in the wind.
He flashes some approximation of a bitter grin, though it feels more like a snarl, brows sunk low. “It doesn’t matter. Everything’s changed, and Wu wouldn’t even want me around anymore anyway,” he says darkly. Anger won’t quite spark and catch the way he wishes it wouldn’t. He’s tired. His chest aches inside his ribs and there’s a dull burn behind his eyes.
Bitterly, Morro thinks he never was good at controlling his emotions. It was half the reason he landed himself in the mess he did. And now, they’re welling up in his throat and knotting there, tangled and confused.
Off in his periphery, Lloyd quirks his head to the side. “What are you talking about?” he asks, puzzled but not unkind.
Breathing a sigh, Morro stretches a hand out. Despite the open air, the swift gales and breezes blowing by, he can’t feel anything. Sure, if he solidified his form, he could feel the cold air against his face or pulling at his hair. But the tug down in his gut is gone. The connection always present between him and the wind, tethering and twining them together, snapped years ago. No matter how he tries to twist and shape the air, to direct the breeze or call out to it, nothing happens. And that feeling, reaching in for a part of him, reaching out for a ally, a companion, and drawing up with nothing never stops putting ash in his mouth. It’s disappointing and upsetting anew each time.
“He turned his back on me once because of what destiny had to say. What kind of picture does it paint if destiny decides I don’t deserve my elemental powers anymore?” he asks, mouth twisted to a frown. He’s got to be the first elemental master in history that somehow managed to desperately keep hold of his connection to his element even after he died, only to have it ripped away years later, unprompted.
For a moment, Lloyd is quiet, though he swings his feet where they’re over the edge of the bluff they’re perched on. “Your powers aren’t everything,” he answers, genuine and meaningful in a way Morro doesn’t wholly understand. “They don’t make you who you are, and you aren’t worthless without them.” He isn’t even looking Morro’s direction, just gazing aimlessly out at the landscape. And something about the way he says the words feels - rehearsed, almost. Practiced. Like he’s said that dozens of times before.
Morro isn’t sure he wants to dwell on that for too long. He wants to scoff, to brush off the sentiment as something easy for Lloyd to say, but hard for him to really understand. But something holds him back, the words catching in his throat. They just don’t feel right. “No one asked you,” he huffs instead, more familiar ground to walk.
“Can I ask you something then?” Lloyd asks. He sweeps a lock of hair out of his eyes, finally turning to regard Morro with that bright gaze.
On instinct, Morro bristles a little at the question. Raises his guard against prying and prodding. But all the same, he has nothing left to lose. And if worse comes to worst, he can always shove Lloyd over the edge. Or, at least, that’s what he tells himself to make it feel okay when he agrees with a nod.
“When did you lose your powers?” Lloyd asks, and Morro lets out a useless breath. That’s a relatively harmless one. The answer still stings a little where it waits in his chest, but it’s one he can offer up without too much trouble.
“When the merge happened. I guess with so many new people to choose from, the wind found someone she liked better than me. Someone who deserved the power more than I did.”
“She?” Lloyd asks, giving a curious glance.
In return, Morro just offers a shrug. It’s always how he thought of the wind. Always how it felt, with the tug in the pit of his stomach or the whispering breezes at his ear. Not just an element to be manipulated and commanded at will like a tool, but a being, one with her own whims and ideas and a strong heart. A force to be reckoned with and a friend at his side.
Now it’s just wind. And he’s just dead. Alone.
“Anyway, my powers were gone, just like that. Stripped out of me, and there was nothing I could do about it,” Morro says, hands curling to fists at his side. The helplessness of it all ate at him—still eats at him. There’s something so maddening, so intolerable about having his hands tied and being at the mercy of whatever’s out there. Fate, destiny, the realms, and worst of all, other people. And sitting in the foggy glades of the departed realm, a stunned, shaking mess, struck with the realization that a piece of him just tore free, was one of the worst moments he ever had the misfortune of experiencing. It cracks the top five anyway, alongside two horrific deaths, a world-shattering betrayal, and grueling decades of the Preeminent’s voice grating cold and cruel in his skull.
“I can empathize, at least a little. Different circumstances, but I’ve lost my powers before too. It… isn’t fun, to say the least. And I didn’t exactly handle it well,” Lloyd says, sounding a little embarrassed.
Still, he has green energy flowing through his eyes. Morro couldn’t miss it, couldn’t mistake it for anything else. The glowing wisps and tendrils that color his irises, always alive and always in motion, are bright, electric green and brimming with vitality.
“And unlike me, it looks like yours came back without any trouble,” Morro bites back. He doesn’t even make an attempt to hide the jealousy bleeding into his tone. And for once it isn’t over ambition, power that destiny denied him. He doesn’t want what Lloyd has; he just wants to be who he used to. To be himself again. “Typical,” he huffs, irritated. “Of course destiny’s favorite child gets a second chance.”
It’s hard to tell what emotion is behind the furrow of Lloyd’s brow, and Morro hardly cares to play guessing games over it. “I didn’t ask for any of this,” Lloyd tells him, like it makes a difference.
It doesn’t.
But even still, the anger Morro used to burn, to fuel himself with, is low and small and weak. Before he knows it, the rising flicker dies out to ember and ash and charcoal in his chest, and there it just smolders. Not angry, but agitated, upset, burnt up and burnt out. The ache and heat behind his eyes starts up again, and he’s far too familiar with the feeling, in life and in death. But ghosts don’t have tears to cry. And even if they did, he certainly wouldn’t let them well up in front of Lloyd.
“It isn’t fair,” he says instead, voice cracking and breaking under the strain of it. It comes airy and hollow, a shell with no real substance behind it. He hates how brittle it sounds, but any more force behind the words and they’ll blow out. “I’m not allowed to have anything. First Master forbid one good thing walks into my life, and the universe tears it away. It takes everything from me, and it always has,” Morro spits, ragged and worn and used.
“My parents.”
He can’t even remember their faces, the sound of their voices. The earliest memories he can dredge up, hazy with age, are filled with the stench of garbage, and the taste of it too. Hunger twisting his belly, scavenging the streets for scraps of things that haven’t gone rancid or rotten or moldy. Chief among the memories, the only one vividly clear and burnt and bubbled at the edges like overheated film, is a fight with a street dog over an overcooked and dried-out but otherwise unspoiled roast chicken. Snapping jaws and furious snarls and spit flying from its maw are still etched perfectly sharp into his head. So is the fear, the adrenaline.
“My home.”
It’s the monastery that comes to mind. The only place he ever felt safe and welcome, even if only for a short spell. And there’s a face that comes with it, stern but kind, framed in by a bamboo staff and tipped hat. Morro bites the inside of his cheek, rather than say anything more on that.
“What I was so sure was my destiny.”
The green gi sits beside him, on the body of someone he used to hold so much hate for. He can’t quite muster the old feelings, and isn’t sure if he wants to.
“My life.”
Stolen away from him before he ever even had the chance to hit adulthood. It aches, more often than he would like to admit, to remember the corpse in the cave. To know his body is dead and gone and all he has is this ghostly wisp to cling to.
“And now my powers.”
By the times he’s finished, Morro’s fists are clenched so tight the tendons in his fingers ache. His voice feels strained and raw in his throat, and his eyes burn. Truly, everything he’s ever had or wanted is gone, and ticking them off, one by one down the list, twists a knife in his chest.
He isn’t asking for everything, not like he used to. And maybe its his price to pay for the things he’s done. But desperately, he just wants something to hold to. Something that isn’t going to get ripped away again the second he starts getting comfortable.
Scrunching his eyes shut against the ache, Morro breaths short through his nose, the air useless. Then, he feels Lloyd’s hand pass into his shoulder, just by a hair. He hadn’t seen it, didn’t have the chance to tense and brace and solidify against the touch. The gentleness of the gesture, the way Lloyd pulls back enough that his palm hovers just at the outline of Morro’s body, and the vivid reminder of what exactly he is, claws a wounded noise up from his chest. It’s stuck somewhere between a laugh and a sob and tastes like metal in his mouth. Gritting his teeth against it does nothing when it’s already out, but Morro does it anyway. Steels himself and screws his conviction up tight.
“It just isn’t fair,” he heaves, strong up from the pit of his stomach. And he can’t bring himself to care that it sounds childish. That it sounds like whining. He knows. He hears it, pathetic even in his own ears despite the dammed emotion poured into it. But it hardly matters. There’s no one here to judge but Lloyd, and he’s already seen Morro in much worse ways than childish.
“I can’t imagine what that must have been like,” Lloyd says, gentle. Morro’s half tempted to snap at him for being patronizing, but all the same, he’s fairly sure Lloyd isn’t capable of being anything but genuine. And maybe, even if he wouldn’t admit it at the point of an aeroblade, it’s nice to have someone sympathize.
“A lot has happened since the ninja found me. And I’ve lost a lot too, but my family has been right by my side the whole time. And even when they can’t be with me, I know they’re there in spirit. I’m never alone, so no matter what I face, we all face it together. It makes it a lot easier, getting through the rough nights, when you know there’s someone there for you.” Lloyd’s gaze finds Morro’s, disgustingly soft. But more than anything, it’s full of understanding, and that stings. Being seen, understood, having the smallest, weakest parts of himself exposed to anyone goes against every instinct he has. That person being Lloyd just makes it all the worse.
Bringing his feet up so they rest flat on the mountaintop, knees bent, Morro crosses his arms over his chest. A defense mechanism, he remembers Garmadon calling it during one of the times their paths crossed in the departed realm. A shield to hide behind. Morro bristled and argued back then, but now, the memory aches.
“I couldn’t do it without them,” Lloyd says, tone walking a fine balance between love and trust on one side and tipping dangerously close to self-depreciation on the other. Still, Morro has enough of his own baggage to carry to even begin touching that. “And you shouldn’t have had to go through everything alone either.”
The scoff Morro gives comes out a little wobbly, but it’s there all the same. “Not everyone’s as likable as you,” he says, a little bitter. “I’ve never even had a friend.”
Did he actually just say that out loud?
For a moment, the sentiment hangs between them, and longer it sits, the rawer it feels. Regret stitches into Morro’s chest, but he can’t pull the words back.
“That’s actually really sad,” Lloyd eventually says with furrowed brows and half a frown.
“I didn’t need any friends,” Morro huffs, sitting a little straighter. “I had the wind and my ambition and that was all I needed.” Pointedly, he ignores the lonely nights, spent tucked around street corners or curled up under pine boughs. Lloyd doesn’t need to know about those. But even still, he’s lost the wind now, blowing cold and aloof straight past him. And he hasn’t had anything to strive for in years. A dull, muted drudge through the afterlife, milling about the ghostly lands. Then, when he finally had a chance to do something, anything, again with the opportunity given by the merge, the only constant he’s ever known was ripped straight from his bones.
“Now I’m just more dead than ever,” Morro says, looking straight through translucent knees. Without his wind, that last bit of vitality and life in him, he can’t shake the feeling of being gutted, hollowed, stripped of something so viscerally important to who he is. He can’t say he’s a fan.
“Maybe that’s a good thing?” Lloyd wagers, though even he doesn’t sound sure about it.
Morro swings his gaze around to level a disbelieving glare at the kid. Adult. Whatever. “Yeah, sure, one more tragedy to add to the pile. That’s definitely a good thing,” Morro bites, dry, though it doesn’t come as sharp as he might want. Still, he has to give Lloyd some twisted kind of credit. It takes some serious commitment to his plucky attitude to find any kind of good in the total disaster that is Morro’s life.
Lloyd huffs a little sigh, like Morro’s the one who’s not making sense. “Obviously I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. He brings his hands up to mouth, breathing warm, cloudy air over them to banish the worst of the chill. “It’s just - try and think of it like a clean slate. You have a chance to start over now. You could go anywhere or do anything and there’s nothing stopping you and nothing from the past weighing you down. There’s plenty of opportunity out there, even for you, you just have to look for it. Just try to find the bright side.”
Halfway through the sentiment, Morro wrinkles his nose, brows furrowing. “Are you actually trying to mentor me right now?” he asks, affronted.
And to his credit, Lloyd looks a little sheepish when it’s pointed out to him. A bit of pink that isn’t from the windburn dusts across his cheeks, and he flusters a little. “It’s just habit now,” he justifies, tipping his chin up to skirt Morro’s gaze. “I don’t really see much of anyone except for Arin and Sora,” he says.
“Shut-in,” Morro jabs, exposing canines with a grin, just because he can.
“Jerk,” Lloyd counters, but it’s with more of a pout than a snarl and entirely free of heat. And isn’t that a strange thing?
“Really, that’s the best you can come up with? You’re going to have to do a lot better than that to hurt my feelings,” Morro says, setting his shoulders and puffing a little. He’s heard so many nasty names over the years that they roll off his back now. Or, most of them do anyway. A few still manage to slice between his ribs, but which those are is a secret he keeps tucked very close.
Tipping his head, Lloyd gives him a look he can’t quite decipher, green eyes light. “Yeah, well it might surprise you that I don’t really want to hurt your feelings,” he says, keeping his tone playful, but it’s a thin mask. There’s something more serious hidden underneath, not hard to spot. “It surprised me,” he adds, quiet under his breath.
Somehow, that one little admission burrows deep into Morro’s chest and sticks. He forced himself into Lloyd’s body, puppeted it like a marionette and used it to bruise and bloody his friends, all while Lloyd fought and kicked and screamed in his head to be let free. He bit with venom and bitter anger, tearing everywhere he could to make Lloyd hurt. He hated Lloyd, from the darkest depths and pits of himself, and made sure the kid—because he was a kid then—knew it in excruciating detail. He tried to destroy everything, all because he couldn’t have what Lloyd was freely given, and he took it out the only way he knew how. With lashing tongue and bloodied knuckles and brimstone blazing in his chest. Angry and vengeful and unreasonable.
Of all people, Lloyd should want to make him hurt. It doesn’t matter how many years it’s been. Morro held his own grudge, burning low, for four decades before he finally let it go. And there’s still scars, it still hurts, even if the rage has snuffed.
The departed realm gives you time to reflect; that’s pretty much all it gives you. And not once did Morro happen upon the idea of being, well— not liked, necessarily, but even just tolerated by Lloyd. Treated like he deserves anything other than a knife in the back. And now, confronted with the reality, Morro’s thrown entirely off balance.
“Morro? You okay?” Lloyd asks, peering over.
Rather decisively, the answer is no, Morro thinks. There’s hardly been a day in his life where he would call himself ‘okay’. Today is not one of those days.
Still, something of a laugh scrapes up from Morro’s chest, startling even him. Lloyd just raises a brow in return, quizzical. And that, the lack of hostility, the bizarre normalcy that sits tentatively between them, just fuels whatever weird feeling is blooming in his chest, welcome but slightly suffocating all the same. And Morro laughs, rusty but real, for the first time in First Master knows how long. He laughs until he’s breathless and a little hoarse and Lloyd looks at him like he’s totally lost it. And to be fair, maybe he has. But, then again, the rest of the world has gone crazy too.
“I’m dead. I released an eldritch monstrosity on Ninjago. I watched a bunch of delusional villains be brought back from the departed realm thinking they could resurrect themselves by killing the ninja. How is this the weirdest day of my life?” Morro asks no one in particular. The cosmos don’t have an answer, and neither does Lloyd, but he does have questions.
“You’re serious? This is weirder than the Preeminent?” Lloyd asks, wholly baffled.
Flopping back into the snow, Morro looks up at the unfamiliar patchwork sky. “Talking with you of all people, not being killed on sight, and not hating it? Yeah, that’s definitely weirder,” he affirms.
Lloyd just shrugs, even if that disbelieving look is still on his face. “Whatever you say.”
For the first time in… wow, how long have they been talking? For the first time in a while, quiet settles back over the mountainside. There’s just the rush of the wind and the sound of Lloyd breathing next to him. It’s unexpectedly comfortable in the silence, Morro finds. For once, that emptiness doesn’t feel looming or oppressive. Instead, it’s just spacious, freeing, and not so lonely with someone at his side. Morro soaks it in as long as it lasts. But with the sun starting to sink along a pink and orange clouded horizon, Lloyd’s comm crackles to life, an unfamiliar girl’s voice asking after when he’s coming back.
Lloyd gives her a noncommittal answer, something about soon, an apology for getting held up for so long. But then, he gets to his feet, dusting the snow from his gi. “I should probably get back to the Bounty before it gets dark,” Lloyd says. If Morro didn’t know any better, he would say it almost sounded apologetic.
Still sprawled on his back, Morro debates moving, getting up. He doesn’t. But he can’t help the sinking feeling in his chest. The way the air seems colder, all of a sudden. Biting at the inside of his cheek, he rolls to his side with his back facing Lloyd. Obviously, he knew this - whatever it is, would be short lived. But all the same…
He shuts that thought down before it can start.
“Have fun babysitting,” he huffs, attention tuned to Lloyd at his back even if his vision is filled with snowy rock and earth.
It’s the only reason he hears the shift in the air, the slight rustle of fabric before Lloyd is leaning over him. Flicking his gaze back, he gets a face full of fluffy blonde hair and strikingly bright eyes, brows stitched in low and mouth quirked down at one corner. “Hey, don’t be all sulky about it!”
At once, Morro jolts, bristling. “I’m not sulking,” he insists with a glare.
“You are too,” Lloyd shoots back.
“I am not.”
Straightening up, Lloyd steps back a pace. Then, he starts pacing around for a few beats, footsteps crunchy in the snow. “What do you want me to do?” Lloyd asks, a little incredulous, a little at a loss. But even still, there’s something gentle underlying his tone, something kind.
“Go back to your stupid ship and your stupid kids,” Morro says, and this time he does get up. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leers at Lloyd across the gap between them. Something prickles behind his ribs, sharp and stinging.
“I thought we were having a nice moment. Why are you mad at me?” Lloyd asks, a little huffy but earnest nonetheless.
Blinking once, twice, Morro drops his shoulders a hair. Relaxes his stance just a little. Because he isn’t mad, not really. Or, that’s not the root of it, anyway. “Whatever,” he says, losing steam and losing intensity. Dropping his arms back to his side, he steps back to the cliff side. When he sits down again, he lets his legs dangle. Lets his feet swing the way Lloyd had. “Just go,” he says, not looking back.
A few moments drift by, but it’s quiet, and Lloyd doesn’t move. But then he does, eventually, and Morro’s insides scrape out a little hollower. Until he realizes those footsteps are landing Lloyd right back at his side. Sitting down in the cold again, watching the sky get darker as the sun’s light sinks.
“First Master, you’re still such a teenager,” Lloyd says, a little exasperated.
Confused, Morro glances over. Lloyd has better things to do, better people to get back to. And yet, here he is.
Glancing up at the sky, Lloyd takes a long breath through his nose like he’s steeling himself. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but, would you want to come with me?” he asks, hesitant and bracing like he expects Morro to lunge like a viper and bite him.
Which, Morro does feel a bit like a cornered snake, startled and a little wide eyed. But he doesn’t lash out, if only because the offer took him so off guard.
“Just for however long you want,” Lloyd rushes to clarify. “Whether that’s to the next town over or back to the monastery. I just - I didn’t hate talking with you either, and you kind of seem like you could use a friend. And please don’t kill me for saying that.” Even if he’s tentative, there’s still something softening in his eyes.
Morro feels a little like he was just punched in the gut. That same desperate sensation of scrabbling for air rushes over him, even if he isn’t looking for air so much as purchase. Something normal and sane to ground himself with.
“You’re joking,” he says eventually, the storm of confusion and emotion inside masked behind something carefully neutral. And just as carefully, he keeps any hint of a question out of his tone. It’s a statement, a fact. Lloyd obviously isn’t serious about inviting him—him of all people—into his home.
“Only if you want me to be,” Lloyd says, still open. But all the same, something a little awkward and nervous slips into his demeanor, eyes flitting away from Morro’s, hands restless in his lap.
For a moment, Morro thinks very hard about that. About everything that’s happened since destiny shoved him right back in the green ninja’s path. And about what he really wants. Right here and right now. What would soothe the pit always yawning open in his chest, hollow and aching.
“Either way, you don’t have to say yes,” Lloyd says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It was just an offer.”
Just about every instinct Morro has is hissing, recoiling. But there’s one spot of calm in the center of his chest. He thinks he knows where it came from, when it came from. The only good days, the lessons of focus and control and finding himself amidst the chaos of his admittedly fickle whirlwind of emotions.
Closing his eyes for a beat, Morro lets out a long, performative breath. And by the time he opens his eyes again, his mind is made up.
“Let me make two things clear,” he says, stern and serious. “You’re not my teacher.”
Lloyd just blinks at him, eyes a little wide. “I know,” he replies, confused.
“And you’re not Master Wu.”
For some reason Morro can’t decipher, that one turns the mild confusion on Lloyd’s face into something crumbly. There’s a moment where a flash of uncertainty passes through Lloyd’s eyes, but it’s gone in a blink.
“I know,” Lloyd says, but it sounds a little more weighty this time. Almost… resigned? Either way, Morro brushes it off. He got the acknowledgments he needed.
Picking himself up, he offers a hand to Lloyd, who takes it without even a beat of hesitation and pulls himself up. Morro isn’t sure why he even bothers getting surprised by Lloyd’s strangely unwary attitude towards him anymore.
“Alright, then what are we waiting for?” Morro asks, turning to head back down the bluff once Lloyd is on his feet.
For a moment, Lloyd stalls a little, baffled. “So is that a yes?” he asks, still rooted where he stands.
Picking his way down the slope, Morro tosses a glance back over his shoulder. “I’m going, but are you coming or not?” he asks and raises a brow.
That gets Lloyd moving again, and he stumbles after Morro, jogging a few paces to catch up before he slips in the snow and narrowly avoids falling flat on his face. Morro laughs and Lloyd flushes and shoves his shoulder.
They make the walk back to the Bounty together, the sunset giving way to a warmly hued twilight. And somehow, walking by Lloyd’s side doesn’t feel as wrong as he thinks it should. It’s comfortable, almost, if a bit foreign. Though, Morro thinks he could get used to it. If pressed.
“I totally forgot I was supposed to find us a few extra days worth of food,” Lloyd sighs on the way out of the village.
Hands in his pockets, Morro stops where he is, glancing back to the crooked rows of houses and animal pens and scraggly gardens. “I could help you steal a chicken,” he offers.
“Morro!”
“What? It’s not that hard. I got pretty good at it after I left the monastery.”
Lloyd sighs like the weight of the world is on his shoulders and buries his face in his hands. “That’s not the problem,” he says, pained, the sound muffled before he drags his head back up. “We are not stealing anything.”
Shrugging, Morro kicks at the snow a little and starts walking again. He falls into step with Lloyd, leaving the village behind.
“If you say so.”