Hi. I like to think that this isn't depressing, because it has a sad yet hopeful air to it. I'm very busy with College now, so I don't think I will be writing very often. This is really just a little drabble that I liked, and may expand upon one day.
Diclaimer: I do not own Wicked. Nope. Not me.
I like this, and I'm quite proud of it. It's a bit like me. Bittersweet.
The evening the Wicked Witch of the West was melted, it rained heavily throughout all of Oz, and the sky turned green. The people in the Emerald City paused in their celebrations to turn their jubilant faces skyward, their eyes wide.
What did this mean? Was the Witch really dead? Was this simply another way for her to terrorise them, even after death?
Glinda the Good inclined her eyes to the vivid emerald sky, the sprawling crowds surrounding her sinking into an awed silence. The rain refused to stop, and she began to shiver in her flimsy ball gown.
Miles above the glittering, soundless city, a single black bird soared into view. The collective gasp of horror from the citizens seemed to drain even last particle of oxygen from the area, and a gentle breeze stirred her golden curls.
"Elphie."
Another bird glided into view; something resembling a golden eagle.
"Fiyero."
The two birds circled languidly for a while, before swooping to the left and disappearing from view.
A single tear escaped Glinda's adamantine eyes, and she let it fall. It mingled with the drizzling rain, sliding laboriously down the sequins of her dress. As the rain trickled to a stop, the sky was ablaze with glorious, mesmerising colour.
Moments passed, and it faded to the normal, habitual greyscale. The celebrators resumed their chatter and laughter, poorly disguising their terror with tasteless jokes and copious amounts of alcohol. Glinda smiled gently, something within her set at peace.
Glinda realised with a wry smile that this phenomenon was a final goodbye to her best friend, and knew within her heart of hearts that she could make her proud. This was who she had been born to become.
Even with Elphie and Fiyero gone, things were as they should be.
Even in all of her sadness, Glinda knew she would be happy.
One day soon. Elphie would see to it.
Elphaba trudged forward, bundling her rippling black hair into a ponytail as she went.
"Fae, wait." Fiyero murmured, gently gripping her elbow with one hand. The young woman turned to him with a content smile, and noticed with slight amusement her companion's overawed expression.
"What is it, my Yero?" she asked quietly, looping her arm through his and resting her head on his shoulder.
With one gloved finger, Fiyero pointed skyward, back towards the way they had come. The sky was green; a muted, mournful emerald somewhat reminiscent of Elphaba's complexion.
"Oh!" she gasped, her dark eyes widening in surprise. "I've heard of this…It has something to do with the refraction of sunlight through an extensive amount of water vapours. The sun has to be at a low angle for this to happen. It's beautiful." Her voice was low in her throat, as though concealing some sort of hidden emotion. They gazed for a little while longer at the expanse of colourful sky, before a soothing zephyr brought Fiyero back to his senses.
Turning on his heel, the Scarecrow held out his hand to the Witch, who took it readily.
"Shall we?" he asked tenderly, and she nodded.
"Yes. Let's." They walked from Oz, and though it hurt to leave Glinda behind without a word, Elphaba never looked back.
They had each other, and knew that they would be happy.
One day.
One day soon.
:) I tried to inject a touch of hope and optimism into this one, as my oneshots are often a little depressing. I hope you liked it!