We Hope Your Rules And Wisdom Choke You

Chapter 8: I can't do this alone Pt 2

Lloyd prays for his peace to continue.

For the clear, calm mindset that helps his days and nights fade into blissful blurs, so he'd need not worry or stress over simple things. But perhaps his current situation was not so simple. Perhaps it would take more than peace to help him move on, to help him forget.

But what other options were out there for him? Face his problems head-on? After all, his situation was unique.

He'd witnessed and committed manslaughter. If he faced that problem head-on, would that mean going to prison, or killing again?

His situation was indeed unique.

So as any other man of his dexterity would, he ignored the issue.

And by the way Garmadon silently escorted him away from the scene, he assumes his father is doing the same.

It's an unhealthy trait that Lloyd is not ashamed to admit he inherited.

They tread carefully past a thick lattice of ficus that lined the hallways in twisting branches, that seemed to reach for them as they walked past. Considering the ominous structure they found themselves in, he wouldn't be surprised if they really were.

He finds himself in a starkly unfamiliar room, placed prominently at the end of the hallway. It mirrored the layout of the room Lloyd had woken up in, only... emptier.

Alike the previous room, this room had tall walls, with grand pillars protruding from the corners. Unlike the previous room, this room lacked the grand, gold-veined table, and indistinguishable banner. It was completely empty, lifeless.

But this room, similarly to the last, was stained with a thin splatter of blood against the dusted floor.

Garmadon guides him to sit at the edge of the room, away from the stain. He sits uncomfortably on a tangling vine of ficus. He shifts to avoid it.

His father sits near him.

The silence eats up whatever peace remained, leaving the father and son to simmer in their familial awkwardness.

What does one talk about after such a situation? The weather? Sports? Bingo?

A leaf brushes his hand. He wonders for a moment how they grew with barely any sunlight. With only the light coming from small windows on high walls, how could the plants grow in such mass?

The question runs through his mind and genuinely captivates his attention.

Plants need sunlight to survive. Especially ficus. From what he knew about the plant, the very plant that crept up the cliffs and walls of the monastery, the plant thrived off of sunlight, couldn't live without it. The plant very rarely grew in shade, as it prefers the humid air that sunlight creates.

If the plant had grown here, in this damp, cold, shady structure, then it must have been slowly growing over the span of hundreds of years, surviving on nothing but the thick water that dripped from the cracks in the walls, like blood from an orifice.

Unlike the luscious green plant the lined cliff faces in Ninjago, this plant, while the leaves and vines were certainly identical, the colour was almost black. The leaves were so impossibly dark, darker than any plant he'd ever seen, darker than ficus should be.

He followed a thick tendril as it curved in delicate waves, wrapping around others until finally, it thinned out into brownish-orange.

He bores of the subject. The silence eats at him once more.

I should say something. But what is there to say?

I could... ask him a question, Lloyd ponders. Yes, what better way to break the silence than with a question?