[A/N: I've been working super hard on this concept for like... almost a year at this point- so please give me some honest reviews!]
Her touch was strong against the man's chest- forearm strung across the broad object as his toxic breath filled her lungs. After all these years that same mix of alcohol and soiled beef was enough to make her stomach churn. It did flips and threatened to ruin her own composure, but she still held calm. Held everything steady.
The blade was close enough to his sweat brined skin that it could cut slight follicles of hair. And this man, this man needed a shave. He needed a wash too, but that wasn't Beca's job to decide. Her job was to toy with the character- to keep the pointed edge so close that it could slice through skin- but not close enough to kill him.
"Get the hell off me," He hissed through clenched yellow teeth. His put all of his weight on his chest- trying to push forward. The small brunette gave him no lead way, slamming his spine back against the stone clad wall.
Beca cocked her head to the side, a bit of mousy hair falling into her midnight stare. It showed no mercy- not in her immediate gaze, or the deeper one that followed close behind. She didn't say a word, adjusting her position so it was tighter against him. It wasn't her job to speak- not at this moment, or the ones before this.
"She really can't fight her own battles?" the man tried, barking out a crackling laugh. It made the young hunter cringe. "She sends some orphan lacky to do all of her dirty work."
Orphan.
That was such a crude word, but not an unfit one. Beca East Mitchell had no mother to comb through her hair or a father that would instruct her on how to draw a double-edged sword. Instead, she had Elphaba. The beautiful woman who appeared by her malnourished side one day when she was just the mere age of eight.
Many people would have deemed the young girl as feral at this point- both of her parents never having much stock in her life. The human had raised herself at the base of Mitchell Cavern until the woman who had housed her stumbled upon the lost child.
"I am no orphan." She snarled.
"Ah, so she does speak." He flashed his inky grin once more. "Who taught you that?"
"You seem to forget who holds the blade in this situation Mr. Bolger." Beca proclaimed dryly. This seemed to shut him up- he swallowed thickly enough to push his throat deeper into the pain, making him wince against her touch.
She stared him down for a few more seconds, eyes tracing the tired lines of his features. He looked worn down, a drunk at best. She wasn't too sure what he had done to cross her superior, but she was never one to ask questions.
Beca did the job and got paid for it. Not everyone could do what she was capable of, and it made the girl worth something. Worth enough to afford to live just outside of Oz. A commission of sorts.
In one swift movement, she drew back the hand with the silver edged knife- her actions were fluid and precise (Just like they always were). Beca dug the tip of silver into the bark right beside the man's head- above his shoulder as to only clip his clothing and hold the yellowed paper in its place- the same paper that was written in green glowing ink so potent that it could be considered luminescent.
The man flinched, depriving the world of his slate grey eyes as he raised his shoulders- waiting for an impact that would never come. The knife so wedged into the bark that it would take real effort to pry it from the tree's clutches.
"You've been summoned." She took a step back, taking her full weight off the man she knew wouldn't follow her. "You don't deny a witch her rights."
Even he couldn't argue that his mouth agape as his fingers curled around the blade. It almost made Beca ache to think she would leave it behind with a flimsy piece of paper. At the end of the day, the ink was more expensive than the weapon. She could get a new one, but that parchment had bound Mr. Bolger to his commitments.
"And if I don't?" His words broke a far cry from his attempt to stay calm.
"Well," She cracked a dark smile "Then next time, I won't miss."
Beca Mitchell didn't ever stay long after she spoke to her mark. It complicated things- it was never for dramatic effect, or for her own pleasure. She had learned early in life not to question anything and do as she was told. To follow the rules in an emerald city that shone sharply. Hidden dangers were around every corner, and it was easier for her to depart from the area after a confrontation. It was always easier.
She shoved her hands in her pockets, eyes always glancing around this part of the forest. It was dark- the yellowed road having overgrown with Boston ivy cascading across deep golden brick. There were cracks- it wasn't pretty like it had been months ago, months before the accident and the pain that ripped through Oz like an ax against tension.
Her eyes wandered against the large oak trees that were almost completely swallowed by the hollow edges of shadows. Each time a warm breeze swept through its clutches the bare limbs would grind together like dry bones- creaking and shifting under the breezes influences. Grains of poison oak wicked it's way into the edges of the path- those who were smart never walked along it.
They would stick to the brushes- because at least they knew that the trees were just trees, and plants had no ill intentions. Those who walked close to the shone path had a death wish, strolling into their own demise. Even Beca would keep a firm grip on her sword when she got to a certain part in the dark land.
Her breath was shallow as she kept her attention elsewhere. It became very apparent to her that she was one of the reason's no one strode through the forest. Not in this part of the land. Only those with nothing better to do than gamble at Rossen's or try their luck against the Eastern royalty. As she walked, she thought.
"If you wish to follow me, you'll have to be a bit quieter." She stated fairly, loud enough to deplete the dark feeling in her stomach. Her combat boots slowed to a stop, no longer playing fair with the silence of the land. "It's quite hard to think when you're that loud."
"I hadn't said a word." The female's voice was light and airy. Beca had been told that just the sound of her words was enough to quell up a feeling of lost love, a warmth having regretfully filled the hunter herself. She swallowed thickly, clenching her eyes shut before she turned her back to the direction that she was working towards.
Glinda North Beale was a gorgeous woman; one so strong and sure of her stance that she would dare enter her sisters land without anything other than a pistol belted to her hip. A black cloak was covering most of her broad shoulders- peaks of coppery locks falling from the hooded fabric that covered her. Her eyes shown almost as bright as the sky that hovered over her sector. "You're very perceptive, Beca."
"That's what they tell me." She shot back, eyes raking over the woman. She had never seen her in person- only pictures, and from word of mouth. Elphaba was quite biased towards her older sibling, painting a terrible picture in her beta's mind. "I suggest you tell me the reason you're tailing me before they get word of your presence."
"A woman who gets to the point," Glinda said through the silence, taking a few steps towards the younger girl. "I like that."
Beca just lifted her chin, her thumb tracing little circles on the edge of her iron sword. The witch could tell she was on edge- it wasn't like the blade she had wasted back there- this one was hard at hiding discontent.
"El spoke to you the other month," She said while she held Beca's focus. "About driving a blade through my daughter's heart as some act of ramped revenge."
Beca simply nodded, not too fond of the conversation. She carried the same disposition when Elphaba had approached her with the pension for revenge that day in the corridor. She wouldn't hear any of it- it wasn't a normal job, it wasn't something she could prophet from, or felt comfortable doing. She didn't question how the redhead knew of this, witches had their ways.
"You turned her down." It wasn't a question, but a statement the woman beginning to circle Beca like prey. She kept a steady blue stare on her. "Why?"
"It's not my place." The younger woman grumbled, making a move to continue on her way "Nor is the conversation, so if you'll excuse me-"
She stiffened as a cold hand wrapped around her upper arm, it made her freeze, the gentle aspect of the contact was enough to make her stomach churn. She could feel the heartache and intention in Glinda's attempts. "I had to protect my daughter, you understand?"
Her pleading eyes were boring into Beca's, watery and strong. Beca parted her lips slightly. "What did you do?" It was barely a whisper.
"I sent her away." She pulled back, strong in her stature as she stared down the woman in front of her; confusion thick on her expression. "To a world where your mentor cannot harm her unless she ventures there herself."
"Kansas?" Beca said, not having heard that word in a long time.
"Like Kansas, yes." Glinda nodded sullenly. "She should be safe there, but I do not trust that she can do it alone. Face that world with those people."
Beca lifted her chin slightly at the words, she had a dark feeling that she knew where this was going. In any other situation, Glinda would have drawn that pistol and placed a thick inch of lead between her eyebrows by now in a swift act of revenge. Revenge for even thinking of harming her child.
"You want me to go after her?" She said in a bit of a laugh "My place is here."
"And what place is that exactly?" Glinda stood up straight, the hood falling back to reveal more of her deep locks, they framed her face, made her look innocent and exhausted. "You know what they call you, Beca?"
She swallowed, not answering. They called her a lot of things, none of which she had heard past the mouths of those cursing her name.
"captivum ad orientalem, Beca. The prisoner of the East." Her words were dark and cut like the very sword that hung at her side. It made the shorter of the two grimace. She had never thought of herself a prisoner or a captive. She was just repaying the woman who had rescued her from a life that would end in her demise. She had grown unfair over the years, unruly and power hungry.
"If you do this for me- "Glinda was practically begging now, barely able to stay up on her own two feet as water collected at her edge, Beca wasn't heartless, she supported the woman letting her dig her nails into her forearm and claw as at the pitch button-down that she wore. "I can promise you that you will not return to her wrath. You will not return to a life such as this."
She drew in a careful breath, cocking an eyebrow at the strange woman. Part of her wondered if this was a test, a way to show her loyalty to the one who had rescued her. She was never good at tests and even worse at receiving the punishments. The sincerity of the sobbing woman in front of her caught her off guard.
Glinda was pulling her down to her knees, collapsing in a pile of silken fabric as she held Beca' close, the hunter squatting as the ignored the pain that wracked through her abdomen at the belt pushing into tender flesh.
"She won't face it alone." Her dark eyes raising to meet Beca's "I can't let her."
With as light inhale Beca flashed her gaze to the direction she was headed. Back to a lonely old house with one candle that provided a warm and familiar glow. It was familiar. All of it- a routine that her body had grown used to her mind numb. She had no idea who she was working for anymore, no idea who she pledged her sanity to.
"I'll do it." She whispered, not purely confident in her words.
"You will?" Glinda sounded so broken, so sad. Beca nodded simply, biting back the sour taste in her mouth as the crying woman flashed a bit of concern against her features. "I'm so glad you see things my way because this might hurt a bit."
"I'm sorry?" Beca pulled back, knitting her eyebrows together, she still clung tightly to the hunter, not saying a word as she pulled the woman's forearm towards her, facing soft skin towards a non-existent sun.
"You must forgive me," Glinda spoke with precision, voice shaking slightly as she hovered a perfectly manicured hand over Beca's arm. "But once you get to their world you won't remember who you are. But you will."
She didn't say a word as thick bite moves through her skin, worse than the clutches of fire- so cold it almost burned. Beca flinched- her bodies natural reaction to sharp pain and suffering. She gasped, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth despite nothing being shed. The young girl had to swallow a groan of agony as tears flooded Glinda's vision once more.
"What the hell are you-Fuck!" She shouted crumbling to the ground herself as she dug her free hand into the bricked surface, letting paint catch under her nails. Her vision was blurry and spotted as she tried to blink back the sting.
"I'm sorry young one," She heard Glinda whisper soothingly, "You'll understand soon enough."