It wasn't hard to find a quiet spot on the grounds; everyone else was by the canal splashing away the last intrusion of summer before autumn resumed its rightful place. They sat barefoot on the blanket, surrounded by yellowed grass and the straggling remains of their picnic, Glinda's skirt hitched daringly up to the knee.
In the drowsy sunshine, she could barely concentrate on what they were bickering about this time. Elphaba was ranting about Doctor Nikidik, a subject altogether unbefitting such a glorious day…her arms wheeled like sails, a hand chancing to land solidly on Glinda's unflinching thigh.
Nessa coughed delicately.
"Sorry, Nessie dearest."
Glinda blushed and busied herself with the ribbon on her sundress as Elphaba meticulously plucked off the crown of another strawberry, a flash of crimson as it passed from slim green fingers into her sister's mouth. She gestured towards the last Settican Mousse (Glinda had secreted a box, not without a twinge of guilt, from amongst Ama Clutch's belongings), arching an eyebrow in question. Glinda grimaced and shook her head, her waistline already regretting the sinful pleasures of the previous night's apple crumble. Elphaba grinned understandingly and held the sweet out to Nessa, who never ate chocolate but smiled and deigned to accept the offering.
Sighing, Elphaba fell back onto the blanket with a thump. Grateful for the silence, Glinda followed suit, flattening her hat in the process, though it hardly seemed to matter just then, not when the sun was glancing through the foliage just so. Nessa eyed them with a hawkish look of prim disapproval and even, Glinda noted with satisfaction, envy. As for Elphie, she hadn't looked this comfortably tranquil in weeks, even when studied in sleep. Perhaps the shock of Dillamond's death was finally wearing off, and the autumn wind had blown to dryness the tears that could not be allowed to fall. Her roommate's eyes were closed in peaceful rest and she took the opportunity to reach for her hand, as she often did; ingrained Frottican customs were hard to shake off. She did not often expect, however, to feel those fingers grip just as tightly onto her own.
"Elphie, would you mind pulling these shoes off? It's so warm, and they do pinch so."
Glinda had never taken a liking to Nessarose, thought she never would. But now, as Elphaba sat up and her features reformed their impenetrable barrier, she felt the tendrils of something stronger coil choking around her throat. Something to do with the way Nessarose pointedly sat a little taller and flexed her toes as her sister knelt before her chair, or with having to accustom herself to seeing Elphaba abase herself in such open devotion. She hated watching, as if previewing some impending disaster, both sisters caught by some malevolent power preying on their hungriest needs; she hated those damn shoes.
Elphaba straightened, dropping the shoes to the ground as if they burned her skin. They were even more beautiful off Nessa's feet; they reflected the blood-red of the leaves above, glowing like coals; she looked away and reached into the basket for another apple.
A westerly breeze rolled past, dragging the lazy clouds along, carrying with it a welcome coolness and the grassy smell of dandelion sap; and when she closed her eyes, Glinda could almost pretend it was still high summer.