“I think you know,” Nick responds after some thoughtful silence.
He decides to cast his view back on the gathered crowd, not daring to meet Nick’s cutting gaze.
“You are his illegitimate son. The union was not blessed.”
He swallows hard as he sucks in a shallow breath. Hearing the truth spoken aloud carried much more weight and pain than he expected when the exact thought came across his mind ages ago in the passage of messed up time.
“And yet, you are his only son. He had no other love after.” Nick sighs once more, more somber this time. “He knew—even as he laid there, dying—that it was wrong to keep you unaware and raised in ignorance. But he believed it was the best way to let you live a life of love under your adoptive parents and now, your new family and friends.”
Something is tickling in his eyes, something sliding down in droplets that somehow warm his trembling cheeks. There is a pat on his back as Jay closes his eyes to let the water rain down onto the carpet floor, and he knew it was Nick even without looking.
“Cliff regretted it his entire life. He was the one that caused this, yet he couldn’t take up the responsibility as a father should.” The housekeeper hands him a napkin. “Your mother left immediately once she found out, and his wife followed suit. He was a very lonely man, Jay, and he tried to atone for it in whatever ways he could. He considered calling you, writing letters to you in the perspective of a fan, but he could never bring himself to do it. He, no matter how fearless and heroic he acts on screen, was scared.”
Nick lowers his head. “Cliff Gordon was acoward.”
The service reached break time, and soon the room became empty except for the two of them standing by the second-floor railing, one deep in silence while the other tries to hold back his falling tears and pent-up anger. What an odd sight, for a tall man to comfort a teen barely reaching his elbow height. Yet, the pair is here in honor of a person that meant something to their lives, as both master and idol, clown and air.
Mr. Gordon took his time to answer, and when he did, it was with a humbling voice. “It is not accurate at all to say that I represent the ideal hero. I am just an actor on the screen, Mr. Walker. It is the real heroes, like the ninja team you are a part of and all the police officers and rescue services out there working for the protection of this city 24/7, that deserve to be called such. But if I somehow managed to capture an essence of heroism with my acting, then I am beyond glad.”
Turning to the cameras, Cliff Gordon gave a simple grin. “I just want to say to all the viewers out there: thank you so much for your amazing support. Thank you for your enthusiasm, your encouragements, and criticisms. There have been highs and lows in my career, but I am indebted to have such a loyal audience and constructive critics. I hope that you will all stay strong through every danger this city had, and will, endure, and become heroes in your own story and overcome every obstacle in your journey. Say a ‘thank you’ to the servicemen and women you come across today and don’t forget to cheer them on.”
“Sir, you’re going to make me tear up in front of the entire land of Ninjago.”
“No worries, son. We will cry with you.”
Jay laughed, though clearly disheartened by the approaching time. Clearing his throat, he put down his list of questions and clasped his hands together one final time. “Well, Mr. Gordon, it looks like the interview has to come to an end. Any final words you would like to say?”
“Thank you and your friends for your service, Mr. Walker,” Cliff Gordon turned toward the young man before his eyes. “I am very proud of you.”
The old actor reached out his hand, and Jay took it with a firm shake.
“I never thought we would meet again. Not in this way, at least.
It’s funny how we ended up inspiring each other, both as heroes of Ninjago.
I can’t say that I miss you, but now I know the could haves and maybes.
Now I know what I have lost, and I will treasure what it meant.
Maybe next time, we will both be less of a coward.
Maybe we will see each other again in the afterlife.”
Jay watches as the earth covers the lowered coffin. Soil soon fills up the dug-out hole, and the flowers and leaves falling from the trees surrounding the cemetery scattered over the closed casket. Many people are starting to leave, and he and Nick are the only two remaining.
“Are you ready, young master Gordon?” Jay closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. He nods. “Yeah.”
“Goodbye, dad.”
Jason Gordon takes one last look at the grave then finally leaves as the wind begins to pick up in the bright afternoon sunshine and ruffles his brown curls. The housekeeper keeps up with his pace and joins his departure from the private memorial, the two of them walking side by side in silence for a long time after.
“Please just call me Jay. It’s creeping me out.”
“Very well, young master Jay.”
“That’s a…a little bit better. Still, no.”
Nick chuckles. “You will get used to it eventually.”
“Maybe,” Jay looks up at the clearing skies, the white clouds starting to fade away. The only thing in sight is the white dove released minutes before the burial’s end, a small dot in the infinite firmaments colored pale by heaven blue. “I hope so, too.”
“I never thought we would meet again. Not in this way, at least.
It’s funny how we ended up inspiring each other, both as heroes of Ninjago.
I can’t say that I miss you, but now I know the could haves and maybes.
Now I know what I have lost, and I will treasure what it meant.
Maybe next time, we will both be less of a coward.
Maybe we will see each other again in the afterlife.”
Jay watches as the earth covers the lowered coffin. Soil soon fills up the dug-out hole, and the flowers and leaves falling from the trees surrounding the cemetery scattered over the closed casket. Many people are starting to leave, and he and Nick are the only two remaining.
“Are you ready, young master Gordon?” Jay closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. He nods. “Yeah.”
“Goodbye, dad.”
Jason Gordon takes one last look at the grave then finally leaves as the wind begins to pick up in the bright afternoon sunshine and ruffles his brown curls. The housekeeper keeps up with his pace and joins his departure from the private memorial, the two of them walking side by side in silence for a long time after.
“Please just call me Jay. It’s creeping me out.”
“Very well, young master Jay.”
“That’s a…a little bit better. Still, no.”
Nick chuckles. “You will get used to it eventually.”
“Maybe,” Jay looks up at the clearing skies, the white clouds starting to fade away. The only thing in sight is the white dove released minutes before the burial’s end, a small dot in the infinite firmaments colored pale by heaven blue. “I hope so, too.”
-last edited on Apr 25, 2020 3:02:05 GMT by TeaLeaf❀
Post by TeaLeaf❀ on Apr 25, 2020 3:01:08 GMT
Mirror Image(Post Season 6)
I’ve been thinking recently…
“Should I grow my hair out?” “Hmm?” Skylor peers up from her plate of sandwich halves, mouth full and chewing paused. “You know, maybe have it lower than my shoulders,” she continues, more rambling now, really. “I wonder what I would look like with a pony-tail. Curls? Gosh, imagine the possibilities!” “Well, first of all: not a bad idea,” Skylor answers, gulping down the food and wiping away the crumbs before placing the napkin back onto the table in a crumbled roll. “But didn’t you just get a haircut last week?”
A lot of thinking.
“Yeah, but…” she bites down on her lips. “N-not that it doesn’t look good! The gal did a terrific job, and it’s the same as it’s always been—” Skylor raises an eyebrow. “But?” “But…” “What brought the sudden change?” The question is asked out of curiosity, with a hint of what seems like amusement and, strangely, suspicion. She knew that bringing up this topic would be extremely out of place, but she nevertheless wants to gain some insight into what people think of it, think of change without warning or clue.
She decides to shrug. “It’s my hair. I can do whatever I want with it.”
As she speaks, Skylor breaks into a chuckle and again bites into her grilled cheese and chips. Waiting for the other girl to finish, Nya finds her own eyes drift over to her plate of Chicken Alfredo pasta, a small serving that she has barely touched during this entire meal. The white butter sauce has become semi-solid, though stirred from time to time by the plastic fork in her hands. The two of them came together for lunch today for their monthly “girl talk,” an excuse to let them both leave the cumbersome reality of work and performance and find a moment of solace. It also serves as a good opportunity for them to catch up on any news or late developments.
“That’s not what I meant,” Skylor dismisses her half-baked comeback with a wave of her hand, her eyes subtly narrowed and glittering with ember. “You’re not the type that rushes off into things like your adorable idiot brother. You’re gathered, flexible, consistent…as expected of the Elemental Master of Water, but that’s beside the point.”
-last edited on Apr 25, 2020 3:08:55 GMT by TeaLeaf❀
Post by TeaLeaf❀ on Apr 25, 2020 3:08:02 GMT
“I tend to be indecisive,” she counters, admit at her own cost as unwanted memories of past romance and drama begin bubbling at the surface of her mind, her back suddenly feeling hot and cold as a shiver climbs up her spine.
“True. But you can’t be indecisive about a choice you already made, can you?” “Look, I’m just saying that maybe longer hair would be a good change of pace. Makes me look mature and steady.”
“You’re the short hair icon of Ninjago City, Nya. You really gonna let it all end like this?” Skylor questions in a half-joking tone, her once neutral expression now of friendly skepticism and tease. “At least give me one good reason. Why?”
Why?
~~~ I wrote this way back in August. It's only fair I post it now.
-last edited on Apr 27, 2020 20:06:08 GMT by TeaLeaf❀
Post by TeaLeaf❀ on Apr 27, 2020 20:05:29 GMT
Time and time again I end up asking myself: Why? Why am I suddenly so uneasy with myself, with the way I am? I look in the mirror and it’s the same old me staring back but with an expression of fear and blurred outlines. Those eyes follow my gaze attentively whenever I look at the streaks of my hair and I see them reflected with dripping water. My hand held up to the glass feels only a thin layer barring me from the person on the other side, the person that look so alike but differ much at the core. A single misstep would break the wall between us, and I fear, I fear of converging with that personality and being when it is clearly not Nya Smith.
I remember it well, the face that is the same as mine, whose conscience and memories were forced into me and burned in my thoughts. A shadow of her remains regardless of all that have been done to fix this disrupted reality, and even thinking of her existence is a taboo. In this messed-up time scavenged from the wish of a broken man and remains of a city in destruction, not everything is truly gone. Even now I wonder, I cannot stop myself from thinking: what if?
What if he is still around, free, looking for another chance to bring back his love? What if one wish isn’t enough to restore it all, that we are forever in danger of a second pirate plunder and I the sacrifice offered again without resistance? What if I am so similar to her, mirror image of the djinn’s beloved quartermaster, that I will no longer be able to distinguish myself from her and distance myself from this past, present, future?
What if I had a different look, a different hairstyle, a different appearance when all of this happened? Even a few inches difference could have saved me, protected them, convinced him that I am not his Dilara and spare the team so much trouble.
If I ever want to move on from this, I have to change. I must change. I can’t be the same as I was before, I can’t bear to be the same as before. So why? Why do I so desperately want to erase my past image, begging for a way to keep on living without this lingering fear and uncertainty? I can never be myself again, not after what had happened. Not after what he did. Not after…
-last edited on Apr 27, 2020 20:12:25 GMT by TeaLeaf❀
Post by TeaLeaf❀ on Apr 27, 2020 20:10:42 GMT
“Alright, fine. Don’t laugh at this, I…” she pouts. “…I thought since both you and P.I.X.A.L are rocking the long hair so much I should join the squad and give it a try.” She avoids eye contact and starts stirring the uneaten pasta once again. “There, I said it”
“That…is such a bad lie, Nya!”
“That’s no lie!” her lips curls up into a smile, and she takes a bite of the untouched plate for the first time. “Stop giggling. You’re enjoying this way too much.” “You had me in the first half! I thought it was stalker at work or a crazy fan situation when you brought it up with that stormy look. Glad that isn’t the case.” “Pfft, stalkers? Fans? I can take care of myself very well, Skylor Chen. Those creeps better watch out! Plus, how do you swing around hair that long while kicking butts?”
“That’s why you tie it up high. Ponytail is good enough for medium length, and I assume that’s what you’re aiming for?”
“Well, not right away,” Nya replies as she takes in another bite of butter and chicken, long cooled and melted from the lengthy conversation.
“Alright, fine. Don’t laugh at this, I…” she pouts. “…I thought since both you and P.I.X.A.L are rocking the long hair so much I should join the squad and give it a try.” She avoids eye contact and starts stirring the uneaten pasta once again. “There, I said it”
***
What my made-up reason for the hairstyle change was ^
If I ever want to move on from this, I have to change. I must change. I can’t be the same as I was before, I can’t bear to be the same as before. So why? Why do I so desperately want to erase my past image, begging for a way to keep on living without this lingering fear and uncertainty? I can never be myself again, not after what had happened. Not after what he did. Not after…
What it really is ^
That... is actually really deep. O.O I like to think that the events of Skybound left a deep impression on Nya, and this is officially one of my favorite head-canons. OvO
Very well-written, too. For such short stories they each leave a heavy impact on the reader... It's amazing.
“Alright, fine. Don’t laugh at this, I…” she pouts. “…I thought since both you and P.I.X.A.L are rocking the long hair so much I should join the squad and give it a try.” She avoids eye contact and starts stirring the uneaten pasta once again. “There, I said it”
***
What my made-up reason for the hairstyle change was ^
If I ever want to move on from this, I have to change. I must change. I can’t be the same as I was before, I can’t bear to be the same as before. So why? Why do I so desperately want to erase my past image, begging for a way to keep on living without this lingering fear and uncertainty? I can never be myself again, not after what had happened. Not after what he did. Not after…
What it really is ^
That... is actually really deep. O.O I like to think that the events of Skybound left a deep impression on Nya, and this is officially one of my favorite head-canons. OvO
Very well-written, too. For such short stories they each leave a heavy impact on the reader... It's amazing.
This whole story came from the idea "What if there are other reasons behind the character re-design?" I think so too---it's a shame that we don't get to see more of how much impact these events have on the characters themselves. But I guess that's what fan-fics are for. :3 Ahhh thank you for liking this head-canon!! ^v^
It's always fun to imagine side encounters that happens away from the season. 
![[y]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/WYWPH2VRo26pOFDid7QZ.png)
![[derp]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/YqNTPqyQUocVMYXZgUAI.png)
![[h]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/hfSwWMIrqfbcVMuaJTst.png)
![[heart]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/SynFAxjClulYuSIRbDRN.png)