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razzle-zazzle · 1 month ago

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Whumptober Day 09: Obsession

"Pin me up on your wall just to keep me out of trouble"

2898 Words; Spiritshipping AU

TW for mentioned death, mentioned suicide

AO3 ver

There was a new ghost in the Cursed Realm.

Not that that was anything noteworthy—new ghosts popped up, well, not exactly often, since most of them went to the Departed Realm or got stuck wherever they died—but it wasn’t just the violent and the damned who ended up here, either. Any ghost with enough turmoil in their hearts was barred from the Departed Realm, and if they weren’t strong enough to stick around in the land of the living, they ended up here. Of course, warriors that fell in battle had a tendency to go to the Underworld and become Skulkins instead, but those souls never became ghosts and the Cursed Realm did not accept Skulkins.

Whatever. The point was that Morro normally didn’t care who ended up in the Cursed Realm—he wasn’t the warden or the nanny or whatever. He had his group, and he had better things to do than greet the newly dead.

But the Mother had pointed out this new ghost to him, and while she hadn’t actually compelled Morro to go find this new ghost just pointing them out was enough of a hint. So here Morro was, picking through the wastes where new ghosts tended to show up, because it wasn’t like there was much else he could do. There was no way out of the Cursed Realm—

(Yet, the Mother had crooned, tendrils creeping through Morro’s soul like breezes flitting through trees—)

And Morro was one of the few spirits here not locked in some kind of eternal suffering, so he had time to kill.

Time he wouldn’t have had if he had never gone in that cave and twisted his ankle—

Morro shook his head. It was fine. So what if destiny had turned its back on him? He wouldn’t be bound to it.

There.

Morro followed the pull of the Mother’s voice, his gaze tracking to the ghost sitting down in a dip in the ground, leaning against what might have been a rock in a realm that wasn’t the Cursed Realm.

They were smaller than Morro expected, curled up against the rock. Quieter, too. Most ghosts tended to freak out when they first arrived—either at realizing they had died or where they ended up—but this one was just… sitting there.

Morro frowned. Why would the Mother point this out to him? He knew she was leading him to a conclusion or action, but what was she trying to lead him to?

Morro came to a stop next to the figure, his feet grazing the ground before he landed fully. They—no, wait, it looked like a he, and the tiny bit of the Mother still lingering in Morro’s chest seemed to agree—didn’t do anything to acknowledge Morro’s presence, so Morro took a moment to just… look at him. He was young, his build bulkier than Morro’s, dark hair falling over his eyes in a way that looked unkempt. Morro couldn’t see any signs of what had killed him—was it something that didn’t leave an obvious mark, or had he figured out how to hide it already? Morro didn’t recognize his clothes—it looked like a school uniform, maybe?

Ugh—enough standing around! Morro kicked out, not quite hitting the boy with his foot while the wind picked up to ruffle his hair. “Hey, newbie.”

The boy’s gaze slid over to Morro, though his expression didn’t change. He grunted, which Morro figured was as close to a greeting as he’d get.

“Why’re you just sitting around?” Morro scoffed, “Is the Cursed Realm not exciting enough for you?” He leaned in and poked the other ghost in the side.

“Go away.” The boy mumbled, burying his face in his knees. Not that that really did anything, when Morro could still see the glow of his eyes through his knees.

Morro scoffed, leaning in closer—

Patience, sweet Zephyr.

Morro scowled, but pulled back. The Mother knew what she was doing.

“Fine, then.” He muttered, turning around. “Stay and rot here, for all I care.” With that, he left. It didn’t matter to him what some random ghost was doing—he’d find something else to do.

+=+=+=+=+

The ghost boy was still sitting there when Morro returned later—had he moved at all? Probably not. He didn’t exactly have a body—sitting in one place for eternity couldn’t hurt him anymore.

Morro landed beside him, and the boy’s gaze tracked over to him. That was the only greeting Morro was offered, though.

“Soooo are you ever gonna do anything interesting?” Morro asked, scuffing his feet on the ground.

No response. Morro rolled his eyes, hopping up into the air to float over the kid. Fine then, he could wait. The Mother insisted that this ghost was important, so here Morro was, waiting for something interesting to happen.

But the boy remained still—

(Still, like the golden weapons Wu had all but promised would glow in Morro’s presence, because he was meant to be the Green Ninja—up until destiny decided fuck Morro and Wu nodded his head and went along with it. Still, like the stagnant air of the Caves of Despair, too heavy and cut off to carry Morro’s attempts to free himself—because oh, yeah, fuck Morro!)

Morro scowled. He rolled over, lying face up in the air, resolutely ignoring the ghost sitting below him. The ghost ignored him back; Morro had half a mind to just leave.

Patience, sweet Zephyr.

Yeah yeah, Morro flicked his hand, eddies of wind ruffling his clothes and hair. The Mother wanted him to stick around? Fine. It wasn’t like he was needed somewhere else.

They continued to ignore each other for a long while.

+=+=+=+=+

Morro was laying on the ground, his head behind the other ghost’s back. Dust floated above his fingers, dancing in the air spiraling around Morro’s hands. Thoughts floated through his head—mostly memories about his life leading up to his death. Frustration ground its heel against his sternum as Wu’s face flashed through his mind—he’d done everything the old man had asked of him, he’d conquered every challenge and test in a way that no other student could, he’d so clearly been the one—

And yet destiny had still turned her back on him. And so had Wu, the coward—

(But Wu had given Morro clothes and shelter and food and training, he had lead Morro through the motions and taught him so much—)

Morro groaned, covering his face with his hands and slamming his heels against the dirt. After a moment, he turned his head to look at the other ghost, sitting up so he could poke the other ghost in the back. “Hey.”

Morro needed a distraction. He needed something to do—and hadn’t the Mother told him to talk to this lameass ghost? So he might as well start talking. “Heyyy.” Another poke. The other ghost’s shoulders hunched slightly.

“Oh, yeah,” Morro had never really… introduced himself, had he? “I’m Morro, by the way. The Green Ninja.” And the Master of Wind, but that probably wouldn’t mean anything to the other ghost.

Silence.

Morro huffed. “Okay, whatever, keep ignoring me.” He glared at the back of the ghost’s head. “Rude.”

“Cole.” The other ghost said softly. “My name’s Cole.”

“What, like the rock?” This kid’s parents must have hated him; coal was dirty and dark and dusty. Or maybe the kid didn’t have parents, like Morro, and had picked his name himself when he was young and stupid enough to think it sounded cool.

Cole turned to stare at Morro—his whole upper body twisting around, arm unhooking from his knees to rest on the ground as he stared over his shoulder at Morro, brows drawn. “No, like the name.” He said, sounding horribly unimpressed.

It was the most animated Morro had seen him. “So you can move,” he pointed out, feeling smug. He’d done that! He’d gotten this useless brick to say something more than a few grumbles! Because of course he did—it didn’t matter what it was, Morro would never settle for anything less than being the best.

Cole continued to stare at him, expression unchanging. “Ugh, whatever.” He turned back around, leaning against the rock, but his hand remained on the ground instead of pulling back to wrap around his legs. “Just leave me alone.”

Do not do that, Zephyr.

The Mother’s response was so immediate, crawling over Morro like so many buzzing flies. His shoulders hunched. He wasn’t going to, dammit, but thanks for the reminder.

The silence stretched on.

+=+=+=+=+

“What do you even want from me, anyway?” Cole asked, having turned so that his back was leaning against the not-quite-a-rock, legs still folded in front of him.

“Depends.” Morro replied breezily, from where he was floating in the air, arms folded back behind his head as he reclined. “You got anything to give?”

Cole stared at him for a long moment. The marks around his eyes resembled tear tracks, Morro had noticed. Which probably explained why he spent most of his time sitting around like a very morose rock. Then, “Probably not.” His chin rested on his knees, head tilting as he regarded Morro. “Unless you like theatre.”

Oooo, that was a lot of words. Progress! Morro sat up, still floating, criss-crossing his legs and putting his hands on his knees. “You’re an actor?” Was that why the Mother was so insistent on Morro talking to him? Because he could lie convincingly? Pssh, Morro could definitely lie way better.

Cole snorted. “Dancer, actually.” His expression darkened. “Well, I used to be.”

Morro shrugged. “Ghosts don’t lose the skills they’ve learned in life, you know.” He pointed out. “Part of the whole dead and unchanging thing. You can still dance.”

“Don’t wanna.” Cole muttered, bringing his arms up to wrap around his legs.

He needs to dance, Zephyr.

Morro could think of a few ways to force Cole to “dance.” None of them were what the Mother was talking about, though. He floated down, thinking hard. Was Cole meant to have been some great dancer, only to have it all cut short? Did destiny turn her back on him, too?

“Were you any good?” Morro asked, more to fill the silence than anything.

Cole stared at him. “Everyone else said so.” He said, which probably said a lot about whatever he’d had going on in life that Morro was too disinterested to really think about.

Well, Morro did need to get Cole to dance. “I bet you’re terrible.” Morro challenged. “I bet you’re so bad that you died from embarrassment.”

Cole glared at Morro, unimpressed.

“Go ahead, then, and prove me wrong.” Morro offered, smirking. “Unless you can’t, because you really are terrible—”

“You’re really blatant, you know that?” Cole’s voice was sharp, sharper than Morro had heard from him. Blank green eyes bored into Morro, face pinched in frustration. “I’m not going to dance for you just because you said some pretty words, dumbass—I’m not dancing ever again!” He slumped back, all of the prior energy leaving him as he buried his face in his knees with a sound bordering on a sob.

“Just leave me alone.” Cole urged, face still buried. “What do you even want from me.”

“I’m really only here because the Mother told me you’d be important.” Morro admitted. He couldn’t care less if some new ghost decided they wanted to spend eternity rotting in their memories.

Cole lifted his head and stared blankly.

“You know, the Mother?” Morro swept his arm back to gesture roughly in the direction of the center of the realm. “The giant primordial preeminent holding this whole realm together?” He crossed his arms. “I know she’s been talking to you, too, I can feel it.”

“Oh.” Recognition flashed in Cole’s eyes. “That.”

He didn’t say anything else, despite Morro’s efforts.

+=+=+=+=+

“So why are you even in the Cursed Realm anyway?” Morro asked. He didn’t quite care how rude it was, to allude to another ghost’s death—it wasn’t like he owed Cole any politeness, anyway. “We don’t usually get,” he gestured vaguely towards Cole, searching for the right word before settling on, “dancers.”

Cole stared at Morro for a long moment. “Because I killed myself?” He asked, voice dry and blunt as a rock.

“You—huh.” Well. That would explain why Cole was in the Cursed Realm. “So you were so embarrassed by your awful dancing that you died.” Morro said—only to immediately regret it. Really?

Zephyr…

Even the Mother felt disappointed, rot creeping along Morro’s arm.

“Whatever.” Cole mumbled, curling in on himself. “Think whatever you want, Morro. I don’t care.”

Okay. Morro called the wind to his hands, using it to scoop up some dust and dirt from the ground to tumble between his hands. Well, that certainly explained why Cole had barely moved at all. Morro thought to his own death, to the slow decay of his own body as he was still in it. He had managed to stave off dehydration for a few days thanks to water trickling down the cave walls—

But death had still come for him in the end. His nonexistent stomach hurt at the memory of starvation clawing at his body.

But Morro had tried so hard—he had never meant to die. He’d wanted to live, because he needed to get out of those caves alive and find the First Master’s tomb if he wanted to prove destiny wrong, prove that he was worthy—

Morro swung his hand around, flinging a sharp gale at the ground to his side. The rush of air blasted a divot into the ground.

Destiny had turned her back on Morro, casting him away from all that he had rightfully deserved and worked so hard for—

But destiny hadn’t turned her back on Cole. No, Cole had turned his back on her. That was cool as hell, actually. Morro said as much, and Cole stared at him, eyes wide with quiet disbelief.

“So I doomed myself to being stuck with you.” Cole groused. “Great.”

Morro barked out a laugh. “I’m not having fun babysitting you, either!” He giggled, “You threw away your destiny and doomed us both to an eternity of sitting here while you rot!” There was nothing funny about this, about Morro sitting here waiting for Cole to stop being useless—but Morro laughed anyway, winds swirling around him.

Cole stood so suddenly that Morro floated backwards in surprise. “Then why don’t you just leave?” He snarled, swinging a hand around as though he was about to punch Morro—

A bit of the ground broke off and smacked Morro right in the face. Cole faltered, surprised, as Morro tumbled backwards and down onto the ground.

“Oh.” Morro said weakly. He’d only met her briefly, before setting out to prove himself in the wake of destiny’s rejection. She had been a girl, then, one of Wu’s newest students, young and rowdy and flinging mud and rocks how she pleased. Though even if he hadn’t met Lilly, Morro still knew about the other elements, about the all-important Elements of Creation. Wu rarely hid anything from Morro in his lessons. “I get it.”

“I…” Cole was staring at his hands like he’d never seen them before. “Did I do that?”

Morro sat up. “Of course you did, dumbass.” He stood, grabbing Cole’s hands to look at them. “You’re an elemental master.” Apparently. “Fuck, you look like her, how didn’t I notice that?” Sure, he had only known Lilly for a few days, but the resemblance was strong—she and Cole were definitely related. How, Morro didn’t know or care—what mattered was that Cole was—or was going to be—the latest Master of Earth.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Cole yanked his hands back. “I look like who?” His whole posture screamed defensive, and Morro scowled.

“Lilly.” If that was actually her name and Morro wasn’t misremembering it. “You look like one of the students my master took in before I—” He swallowed, suddenly very aware of how much a lot of his memories stung— “left.”

Cole backed up, eyebrow raised. “You did not meet my mother.” He accused. His shoulders hunched, and Morro felt something shift beneath his feet.

“Yeah I did.” Morro shot back, “barely.” He added.

The Mother must have spoken, then, because all of Cole’s vitriol melted away suddenly, shock and something sickeningly close to hope replacing the disbelief. “You—” He cut himself off.

“Look.” Morro stepped forwards, offering his hand before thinking better of it. “We don’t like each other. We barely know each other! But the Mother wants us to work together,” He almost slung his arm around Cole’s shoulders before pulling back, “And you’ve got nothing better to do. So why don’t you quit all this useless moping, and let me,” he summoned the winds to emphasize his point, swirling them and the dust they carried around his hands, “show you what being an elemental master is all about.”

Cole looked at Morro’s hand dubiously, arms crossed. “And what do you get out of it?”

Morro smirked. “Something more interesting than watching you rot.”

Cole snorted. He stared at Morro’s hand for a long moment—Morro made the winds swirl in intricate knotted loops, the dust outlining the complex path—then sighed. “I’ve got nothing left to lose.” He said, reaching out his own hand.

Morro dispelled the winds and took Cole’s hand. “Welcome to the Cursed Realm, newbie.”

#whumptober2024 #no.9 #''pin me up on your wall to keep me out of trouble''#lego ninjago #zaz writes #death #death mention #suicide mention #spiritshipping au #morro wu #the preeminent #cole ninjago #WHY DID THIS ONE REFUSE TO COPY PASTE WHAT #I WAS READY TO TEAR MY HAIR OUT #anyway 💅 morro and cole have met!! this can only end well‚ i'm sure #a little hint of how they're gonna feed into each other's issues + a little hint of morro obsessing over the green ninja thing #i had more dialogue i think but i couldn't make it work/forgor it #and also that was the perfect ending point anyway #i'm not entirely sure i got morro's character exactly right but i did have fun with how he and cole played off of eachother #and also the preeminent's little remarks #she's been calling cole ''geode'' btw #this piece is very ''not today'' by 21pilots coded. to me

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