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In the furthest part of northwest Ninjago, situated between the mountain range of the Glacier Barrens and the skyward grasping branches of the Birchwood Forest, sat a small wooden cabin. Covered in snow and with matching cotton-white blinds evermore shut, the only sign of life within were the wispy trails of smoke that floated out of the chimney and into the powder blue sky. Though the cabin itself was fairly-sized, it was diminutive compared to the landscape surrounding it. Still, it housed two souls within.
A ghost and a nindroid sit in front of a fire.
The punchline of the darkest joke ever made writes itself, but in this moment, that haze that seemed to surround them, engulf them, and threaten to devour them whole (and almost had, at various points) had dissipated like the gloomy clouds that blanketed the sky above their abode. In its absence neither was sure how to fill the space, but filling their cabin with a mismatch of furniture and decor and mugs of warm drinks seemed to do the trick. Aside from the crackle of a warm hearth and the occasional sip of hot cocoa, there was silence.
“What time is it?” The ghost asked.
The nindroid hummed, staring off into space for a moment. Though he couldn’t see it, Morro knew Echo was checking his internal clock, then double checking it to be sure.
“Ten in the morning,” answered the nindroid.
“How’s the weather?”
“Like usual. Cold, snowy, it is winter, so the average temperature in this area has dropped, somehow.”
“Are you sure? You should check.”
“Why?”
“Cuz. Maybe it’s nice out for a change.”
“And why would that be? Has a sudden windstorm swept the cold away? Maybe a certain ghost shared some of our unrelenting snow with the rest of Ninjago?”
“For once, I say you overestimate my powers,” Morro snickered. “C’mon, just check.”
“Hmm…” Echo stared off again. Morro watched his eyes dart around, observing weather maps only he could see. “Actually, it is alright today. Reports are saying a high of twenty, low of fifteen.”
“Ooh, so what, like, three higher than normal?”
“Four, but yes. Nicer than normal.”
“Maybe we should take a walk.”
Echo glanced at Morro. “You’re acting strange. Well, more than usual.”
“What? No,” Morro stared at her hot cocoa, swirling it around in her mug. “I just think a walk would be nice. It’s so boring cooped up in this cabin all the time.”
“You’re hiding something.”
“No!”
“Liar.”
“And so what if I am?”
“Perhaps I want to know.”
“Perhaps,” Morro mimicked Echo’s cadence, “I don’t wanna tell you.”
“And why not?”
“If I didn’t wanna tell you what it is I’m obviously not gonna tell you why.”
“Alright, I’ll concede,” Echo took a sip of their own cocoa. “But regardless, a walk sounds lovely. We would still need to dress for the weather. We still need to stay warm, after all.”
They didn’t. Both knew this. Echo’s internal A/C regulated his body temperature, and regardless he could withstand temperatures far beyond what a human could. Morro, meanwhile, had more to fear in melted snow than even a glacial winter, though he risked more with the threat of snow suddenly melting. He’d evaporated once before, he had no desire to repeat the process of ghostly death and resurrection (especially since the information had died with the person who brought her back to begin with). Plus, it was the closest thing he got to feeling human these days, bundled up in layers upon layers of cloth that his non-corporeal form could barely hold onto.
So, Morro dressed for protection and Echo dressed for fun. Time spent in the cabin lended itself to many DIY projects, so Morro’s heavy winter coat was covered in random chains and zippers that lead to nowhere, while his black boots were similarly adorned with meaningless straps and studs. Even his moss green gloves, which matched the scarf currently pulled under his chin and tucked in his jacket, had blunt spikes on the knuckles. Echo’s coat was half-red, half-black with spiked shoulder pads, with boots that matched Morro’s and black gloves embroidered with red wires, though from a distance they looked like blood-filled veins.They also wore a beanie, though it was plain black, and a tattered red scarf that had seen far better days.
They were a fetching pair. The outfit would’ve done numbers on the Ninjago runway… okay, maybe an underground runway, but nonetheless. Morro liked the way their outfits complimented each other, though she would never tell Echo this because they would get that stupid smug look they often got whenever Morro gave an inkling of sappy sentiment. Though his efforts were in vain, as he could see them wearing that smile under their tattered red scarf.
“You forgot your hat.” He pointed a covered finger at Morro’s uncovered hair.
“Nah, don’t have one. Got chewed up by something in the closet.” He shrugged. “I’ll be fine, just gotta pull my hood up.”
Echo hummed in response, their smile giving way to pursed lips and a knit brow. He examined Morro long enough that the latter felt like the cold had breached her many layers and the mortal realm. Did their eyes just… flash? Were they doing some kind of water exposure risk assessment?
Then Echo straightened his posture and scarf, along with a red knitted beanie.
“Apologies. I needed to gather some information.”
“Information on what exactly?” Morro asked as they both walked towards the front door. “It’s just a hat.”
“I’m aware, but it is still nice to have a hat to complete your ensemble and protect from falling snow.”
“I told you, I have my ho-” Morro jumped back as Echo opened the door, disturbing a pile of snow and almost burying the two in it.
Echo poked their head out and glanced around.
“No more snow should fall on us at this moment, but are you sure your hat was beyond use? Perhaps it could still function?”
“No offense,” Morro quickly stepped out of the house, feeling the fallen snow crunch below her feet as she sunk up to her ankles. She pointed at Echo’s scarf, covered in holes, rips, and sloppily patched areas, “but I don’t think I should take advice from you on when to get rid of clothes.”
Echo glanced down at his scarf, face once again drawing together. “What is wrong with my scarf? It is plenty serviceable.”
“It’s practically scrap fabric! If you didn’t already have your internal temperature control whatever, you’d freeze!”
“It is unlikely that I would freeze, given the rest of my warm clothes, but I understand your point.” Echo held out a hand and Morro entwined their fingers. “Still, it was a gift, I would feel bad getting rid of it. It is also the only scarf I own in this color.”
“Ugh, color scheme, really?”
“Well,” Echo glanced away, “it’s not as if there’s an abundance of red fabric out this way. Or black, for that matter. Nor as if we have comrades readily able to bring us some.”
“Yeah, yeah, since UV and Killow ended up in the slammer again…” Morro huffed out a sigh, which materialized as a soft white cloud of condensation in front of his face.
“When we have an opportunity, I will cloak myself and go into town, then I will purchase us some replacement winter clothes.”
“Purchase with what money?”
“Well, when you can cloak yourself, everything is on the… what did the others call it? ‘Five Finger Discount’?”
Morro snickered at that. “Sureeee, we’ll go with that. Eh, either way, I don’t mind a bit of chill or falling snow. S’long as I don’t end up double dead again.”
Snow crunched under their feet, the only marks on the pristine blanket covering the clear strip they called home. Most animals who lived out here (the few who braved straying from the more hospitable areas of the Birchwood Forest) were hibernating, leaving the landscape devoid of life. That was, except for the small flocks of birds that danced overhead. One such group swirled high above Echo and Morro’s heads, turning in midair and heading towards the trees. The pair watched in quiet awe and they spun.
“Meadowlarks,” Echo observed. “They’re native to most of Ninjago, these are the Birchwood variety in particular, known for their distinctive markings that resemble the trees that give their habitat its name.”
“Thanks, Encyclopedia Ninjago.”
“You’re welcome!” Echo’s smile took up their entire face. Morro stared for a moment too long, his hand phasing through Echo’s and leaving the other with a sudden chills down their arm. They looked at Morro, now with a small frown. “Are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah, totally cool. It’s cold though.”
“I thought you did not feel the cold?”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m feeling particularly corporeal today.”
“Would be nice if you had your hat.”
“Oh, shut up.” A breeze whistled by Morro, giving him a devious idea. He shut his eyes, listening to the direction of the wind. He sent it down, up, and…
“What are you--umf!”
Bingo! She opened her eyes and laughed upon seeing Echo’s face decorated with the remains of a wave of windswept snow.
Echo wiped the last bit of it off and stooped in the snow. “If it’s a fight you want, a fight you’ll get!” They wound their arm back and sent a snowball sailing in Morro’s direction, who quickly dodged it.
“No fair! You can’t hit me!”
“What about that corporealness you were feeling?”
“Irrelevant when you’re trying to kill me!” She shouted, dodging another attack by flying into the air.
“The snow will not melt in time to harm you!”
“Yeah, sure, when it’s about forcing me to wear a ratty old hat, you’re all, ‘oh Morro , what if a snowflake glances off your eyelash?!’ ” She spoke in an exaggerated falsetto, fluttering her eyelashes. “But when you wanna assassinate me in broad daylight you’re sure an entire pile won’t hurt!”
“You started it!” Echo sent another ball in the air, this time connecting with Morro’s boot and throwing the other off his hovering balance. As he made a grumpy landing, Echo laughed. “There, now we are even.”
“I’ll get you back.”
“I’m sure you will, once you have a hat.” Echo brushed the remainders of snow from his gloves. “Come, let’s finish our walk.”
Later, as the sun ducked behind birch branches and the sky glowed in dazzling purples and blues, Morro and Echo re-entered their home, stomping snow off their boots and brushing it from their clothes. While Echo went to hang his things, Morro lingered in the living room, looking at the smoldering embers in their fireplace, eagerly awaiting another log and kindling to bite into and fill the hearth once more.
“Are you alright? Would you like me to take your things?”
Morro turned, seeing Echo now in their pajamas once more. “Nah, I can hang ‘em up. Was just thinking about how our cocoa’s probably cold. We also might wanna get some more firewood soon.”
“Hm, true, I will look into chopping some tomorrow. Our cocoa can be reheated with what we have, at least. Why don’t you go change? I will handle this.”
Morro nodded and went to their bedroom. She hung her things, then nudged aside an old box of pictures and trinkets she’d collected over her time with the Sons of Garmadon. Behind it was an envelope, once used for a mail delivery and now repurposed and resealed as a giftbox with a shoddy, hand-tied red ribbon on top.
This is stupid . He almost talked himself out of it for a fifth time, but managed to shake the voice off. They won’t think it is.
She took a deep breath and went back into the living room, where she saw Echo sitting in his chair, watching the fire lick the bottom of the grate holding their mugs. She tightened her jaw and shut her eyes, then jutted the envelope out in front of herself.
“Echo, here.”
Startled, they turned and saw what he was doing. Morro heard them step closer, then take the package, tear it open, and suck in a breath.
“Is this…?”
He dared to peek his eyes open and saw Echo’s awestruck expression as he held a new red and black scarf in his hands. “New” was a relative term. The scarf looked almost as bad as his current one, covered in holes and with uneven sections of color. The fringe of it was frayed to a fuzzy mess in parts. Honestly, the main difference between it and the old one was the new color and the fact that it was knitted, not woven.
“I, uh, figured it might be nice to have more than one scarf that matched your whole… ‘aesthetic,’ so I got that one.”
“Got it?” Echo asked.
“... made it. I made it, okay?”
“You knitted me a scarf?”
“Killow taught me how. He picked up some interesting new hobbies in Kryptarium.”
There was a moment of silence before Morro felt the cool embrace of mechanical arms. “I love it. Thank you, Morro.”
She returned the embrace, resting her face in the crook of Echo’s neck. “Welcome. Don’t expect this every time you tear up something, though. I don’t think I ever want to look at a pair of needles ever again.”
Echo laughed and it warmed the room more than a fire ever could.
Weeks went by with very little change. Things felt still in the world inhabited by two nobodies. Snow was everpresent in the cold climate. Meadowlarks still sang outside from their nests. Echo and Morro traded off chores, like chopping firewood or venturing into town for groceries.
On one such day, Morro prepared to head outside and collect firewood while Echo was “bartering” for food at a market. She donned her jacket, only to feel something bulging in the pocket. She pulled it out.
It was a winter hat, with a black brim and green body stitched with delicate black waves, like wind patterns swirling around its circumference.
Morro put it on. It fit perfectly. She pulled on her gloves and boots and stepped outside, observing the vast expanse of snowy fields around their cabin.
“I’m sure firewood can wait in favor of stockpiling some snowballs…”
A nindroid and a ghost had a snowball fight. The punchline of the joke might have involved locked-up servos, or possessed snow warriors, or even one less ghost, but there was no punchline. Instead, there was laughter, loud and clear, ringing through the night as the meadowlarks snuggled in their nests.