One: The Savior
Disclaimer: i can wish, but I don't think I'll ever own Wicked.
A/N: My first Wicked Fanfic. Please R&R if i should continue on this.
The wind whipped past her ear, howling with a fierce cold passion. The clouds above her were brewing and shifting, passing over the sun, plunging the beach into darkness. She bent down and scooped up some sand, rubbing it between her fingers. She didn't allow the sand to escape though, and it turned into brown muddy earth.
Pir Guirewood stood, her eyes staring out into the choppy seas of the Gulf of Honduras. Those same eyes had once been soft and cheerful, but now they were just stone hard, empty, from her years of survival.
She threw her fresh mud ball out into the waters, where it splattered against the unmerciful swirling currents. Somehow the elements just seemed to reflect her emotions, and now she wasn't it a very good mood.
She recalled her younger days, when she was still carefree and innocent. The freedom she had back then, when she didn't consider racism a very big deal, or the fact that she might actually be affected. Her thoughts then were light and happy, unlike her current bitter and dark hatred. How so can one change after many years of hardship!
A witch. That's what the people called her. Different, weird, extra-terrestrial – they could've called her anything, but they chose 'witch'; wicked witch, one without a heart, just an empty shell with only the capacity to store hatred.
Thunder rumbled overhead. She closed her eyes, feeling the anger and bitterness well up inside her. She breathed, the smell of seawater filling her nostrils. The trees behind her sway in the wind, bending their branches and pulling the leaves from their twigs.
Then the Winds spoke. Pir opened her eyes, slightly surprised. The Winds had been silent to her for a while. They spoke only when something special was imminent.
"Rain approaches," they whispered. "Rain comes…"
You want rain, is it? thought Pir, uncomprehending. Is this thunder not enough?
"Listen for Rain…" they continued. "Listen…"
So Pir threw back her head and listened. It was true; it was unlike the other times when she threw a temper tantrum, with just the wind and thunder. There was something else – something off. Pir did not like to be confused.
"Tell me, wind!" she shrieked. "Keep nothing from me! Tell me the imminent!"
But the Winds dropped no hints. They just said, "Wait…"
And so Pir waited, peering out into the dark grey clouds. For a minute she only saw rolling clouds being tossed by the ruthless winds, then, just as she was getting impatient, she finally began to see something. It was a slight disturbance in the swirling of the clouds above. Like a hiccup, there was a puff of cloud that fluffed out slightly. Pir narrowed her eyes. There was a dark patch there, a shadow moving behind the veil of cloud…
Then it divided, like curtain being drawn apart, and a shape burst through it. From her distance, Pir could not clearly make out the shape, but it appeared to be a girl, with jet-black hair, on a…wait was that a broom?
The girl seemed to ride the wind, letting the turbulence propel her through the air tumble through the air. She never resisted once. She didn't seem to care that the winds were tossing her about like a rag doll, or the fact that there was a storm all around her.
Then there was another disturbance, another shadow that emerged from behind the clouds. A goose, which in contrary to the girl, was flapping his wings rapidly fighting against the strong currents of the wind. The most curious thing about it was the fact that he was carrying an umbrella and a satchel, something even Pir, who was geared for the unexpected survival, never expected. How was that even possible?
The goose seemed to tire, and its wings grew limp and ceased to flap, and it fell towards the earth. The girl, in the midst of enjoying her ride, was taken on by surprise, and tried to steer the broom towards the falling goose, but her reaction was too slow, the goose was hurtling at too fast a rate, there was no way she could get to it in time…
Before she knew it, Pir's hands flew out in front of her. She drew all her energy, concentrating on the falling bird, and focused hard…
The bird stopped midair, just a meter above the churning waters. Power rippled through her muscles, pulled from the core of her soul. It was draining her, tearing her spirit from her body. She couldn't hold on any longer, she had to let go…
Fortunately for the goose – bless that goose, it was one lucky bird – it was splashed conscious just as it hit the water's surface. It began to struggle, lifting itself up into the air once more, and made it to the shore as quickly as its wings could carry it. It waddled towards Pir, who backed away in uneasiness. She drew her hidden knives from her boots for extra precaution.
"You're a weird goose, now, I say," she said, holding out her weapons. "I don't think weird and weird should mix…"
And she was right: the goose was no ordinary goose.
"Thank you, powerful sorceress!" it exclaimed. "Iskinaary, at your service!"
Pir had encountered many strange happenings in her time in the wild, but none like this. She staggered and gripped the tree behind her for support. A talking goose?
The goose took no notice of her shock. He lifted his head, and cried out to the girl, who was now balancing on the edge of the wind, still getting over the initial shock of what she had just witnessed.
"Miss Oziandra, you must land and thank this wonderful good lady for saving me! Land, for Lurline's sake!"
The girl appeared to observe Pir from a distance for a while, before obliging and soaring down towards the beach.
"I am no wonderful person, goose," Pir said, still trying to pull herself together after all that she had just witnessed. "Nor am I a good one. I'm a wicked witch."
"As was my grandmother," said the girl as she landed, her long black traveling cloak billowing behind her.
As if Pir's day wasn't getting any weirder. At first she thought the talking goose was enough to give her a heart attack, but now, she reconsidered.
Pir hadn't noticed it when the girl was amongst the clouds, perhaps because of the darkness that shrouded her facial features, but now that the girl was less than five meters away...
It couldn't be. It must've been a trick of light.
But no, as the girl continued forwards, it was evident her skin was green. Emerald green.
Pir felt as if the tree behind her was about to snap in her grip.
Oziandra had long foreign black hair, beautiful black eyes, and small red lips, brought out by her sharp lean chin and her high well-rounded cheekbones. She was beautiful in every way, her movement, her smiling; but she was green, and her beauty could not hide that.
"Who…who are you?" asked Pir. Never in her life had she seen such a phenomenon, much less the flying broom.
"I'm a wild traveller from the distant lands, an outcast, a stain on a pristine cloth," answered the girl. Her tone was bitter.
"And I'm a Goose, with the capital G," said Iskinaary, "familiar of this young lady's witch father."
"Well…" said Pir, composing herself. "I have no familiar. I need no familiar, so leave me."
The girl Oziandra was about to turn, but the Goose said, "No, Miss Oziandra, we must return this young lady a favor for saving my life."
"You return it, Iskinaary, my life needed no saving." She turned to go.
"I insist, Miss Oziandra, we must."
Pir folded her arms. "I agree with the green girl, Goose," she said coldly, "I don't usually help people, and in the first place, I was the one who created the storm that brought you down."
"No," said the Goose. "Miss Ozaindra and I have been flying for a year and a half. It is what tired my wings, and we ought to rest," he looked to the green-skinned girl. She did not turn, but just stared out into the horizon. The storm had cleared to reveal a sea of turquoise and blue, with pink and orange clouds streaking the sky; Pir had been in too much of a shock to keep her tantrum going.
"Goose, just leave me," said Pir icily. "I detest company. Please, we have met and I'm sure that I know what I need to know about you two freaks. Now, just return to wherever you have come from and leave me be." Now Pir swiveled around to leave.
"In actuality," pressed the Goose, and the girl sighed, just as Pir rolled her eyes in exasperation, "I have not officially introduced you – curse my forgetfulness – to Miss Oziandra Rain Osqa'ami."
Pir froze.
Rain.
She rounded on the girl, realization dawning upon her. "You were the Imminent?"
The girl looked at her askance. "Technically I…am the Eminent Thropp of Munchkinland…if that's what you are referring to…"
"I was expecting you," said Pir shortly.
"Wait, you were?" asked Oziandra, confused in the blur of the moment.
"Yes, I was," confirmed Pir, though she herself was not sure. Was this the girl she's been waiting for? "Come with me."
"Finally! A place to rest!" exclaimed Iskinaary, whom she'd almost forgotten. "My feathers are indeed worn and my eyes have no more tears to be shed from the wind. Lead on wicked witch, where be your castle?"
Pir looked at the Goose, not at all amused. "Your poor sense of humor does not have any effect on me, Goose. If you want to fool around, don't choose my territory to do it. I will not have it, do you hear?" At this point, Oziandra snickered slightly.
"What is it?" Pir demanded, insulted. She hated being laughed at. "I welcome you, and this is your response? How insolent!"
"Forgive me, Sorceress," said the girl, "but Iskinaary did not mean to be humorous. It is just that spoilt Iskinaary is used to the tall turrets and high ceilings of my grandmother's castle Kiamo Ko. However, I see you evidently have humble lodgings, and nonetheless I feel honored that you are welcoming us."
Pir grunted. "You should be."
With that, she led them into the forest, where the buzz of insects, the chirp of birds and the howls of monkeys immediately surrounded them. Several animals poked their heads out from among the leaves of the trees to observe the new green stranger, who blended in so well with her surroundings.
"So," said Iskinaary, who was tagging along behind, hopping over the twigs and leaves carrying his satchel and umbrella, "what's for dinner? I do hope it's floury, some wheat products…I even miss your mother's horrid oatmeal…wow how those days of eating that mush of grub insides from the Tribes of the Vinkus. You had to spend a year learning the language of the Scrow, didn't you, Miss Oziandra?"
"I didn't expect you to follow, Iskinaary," said Oziandra, "I didn't even want you to come."
"Century eggs and foie gras," said Pir suddenly.
"Sorry?" the two travellers asked in unison.
"We are having century eggs and foie gras for dinner," repeated Pir, without emotion.
The Goose picked up his pace and fluttered to her side. "My fair Sorceress, but what are century eggs? Are they eggs left for a century to age? And foie gras…what is that fascinating word?"
"Goose eggs and goose liver," replied Pir shortly.
The Goose came to an abrupt stop. On the outside, Pir's face was stoney, but on the inside, she was grinning, relishing in her evil ways.
"Goose?" he said incredulously, rounding on her. "You are going to kill Geese, and dig out their insides for food?"
"I can assume you are referring to talking geese," said Pir, and the Goose nodded, "but no, I speak of geese – normal, non-talking geese. We don't have such – " she surveyed her two guests from head to toe " – oddities here, other than me."
"Oh, thank goodness!" said Iskinaary. "Those useless wasters of space are not of my concern. Sad life, those non-communicative beings live. The best thing that happens in their lives is being slaughtered. I'm a Goose, an Animal. I live my life a dignified one, though not saintly, just poking my beak into witches' sinful business – first the Witch's bastard son Liir, now his artichoke daughter here. Miss Oziandra isn't my familiar though, considering her complete dogged attitude. Must have been passed down from her grandmother – I heard the Wicked Witch of the West had a nasty case of stubbornness – Liir has a flair for defiance as well. Retrospectively, I do expect he got his reputation from that revolutionary move against his uncle Shell. Oh that godly man, thought he was the only whole child of the unholy Thropp threesome, after the Witch and her martyr sister Nessarose. But turns out, he doesn't have half his mind. I guess that's what power does to you, blinds you, drives you insane…"
"Iskinaary," started Pir, "I'm treating you to dinner, so can you do me a favor?"
"Well, anything for my savior."
"Shut up."