I'm once again running home from that failed mission on Lurlinemas Eve, careening around corners at breakneck speed. I reach the door to my little rattrap of a hovel and sprint up the stairs into my room. Gods, there's so much blood, on the walls, the floor, the bed. And there he is, my lover, my Fiyero, amid all the ruby-colored mess, covered in his own blood, lying broken and lifeless on the floor. It's all my fault he's dead. I drop to my knees beside him, take his unresponsive body in my arms and then -
A throbbing ache in my chest and darkness.
That is the extent of my knowledge at the moment.
Everything hurts and everything's black.
I open my eyes and I'm met with a pounding behind the eyes that forces me to close them again. Soon enough the sensation subsides and I sit up, massaging my bright emerald green temples with bright emerald green fingers. Damn green. That color had made me an outcast since I was born.
There's light just starting to leak into my tower through the one window, facing the east. Killyjoy, my very large dog of no particular breed, lifts his head and whines. Slowly he gets up and pads to my side, putting his large paws in my lap. He can tell I'm in pain. He knows me better than any human alive. The only person who's ever known me as well as my dog does has been dead for a little more than nine years. I scratch Killyjoy behind the ears and I stare across the room to the window, lost in thought. That dream has haunted my sleep for nine years and I'm still terrified of it. I shudder at the thought. Even in wakefulness I can't escape that feeling of blind animal fear, of grief too deep to be banished by the light of day.
:Damn it, Fiyero, I told you not to wait for me at home that day! You were crazy to love me like you did. Look where it got you!: my mental voice screams at him.
:You're dead because you loved me!: I stare fixedly out the window.
:Pull yourself together, Elphaba! It's been nine years. He's been gone for nine years. Nine long, lonely, painful years.:
I stand up and walk to the window, reaching over to pet Chistery, my still-sleeping monkey. He chatters in his sleep at my touch. I smile wanly at him.
:Another day within the confines of Kiamo Ko. Oh joy. What new depressing thoughts will enter my head today?: I think to myself. Kiamo Ko, this castle-fortress out in the middle of the Vinkus, is my home now, but I hate it here. Everything in this godforsaken place screams "Fiyero!" at me. He used to own this place, used to grace it's halls with his presence, just like he would grace my rattrap, my bed, all those years ago. Gods, I miss him. I love him. I hate him for loving me back like he did, getting himself killed because of me. I lapse involuntarily back into memories.
There was his first day at Shiz. We were both in Dr. Nikidik's biology class, the day with the antler incident. It was Fiyero's first day there; he was so terrified and shy. Then the spell went wrong and the newly-magicked antlers went and attacked the poor boy, almost strangling him until Crope and Tibbet, two of my once-good friends wrestled them away from him. He had those beautiful striking blue diamonds painted on his face . . .
There was that day at the temple of Saint Glinda, when he saw me and recognized me after five years of not hearing of head nor tail of me. I tried to outwit him, keep him from getting too close to me, but he was so persistent. He followed me to that hovel I called home and wouldn't leave me alone until I would hear him out. It was then I realized how much I had missed that easy companionship we had had in our days at Shiz. From then on we would meet often to talk to each other; we would talk of memories, he would tell me about the world outside my little corner of it. I fell in love.
There was the time he was telling me about his family, and I broke down before him like never before. I had never had what you would call a "loving" family. To my father I was nothing more than a tool for him to use in his preaching; my sister Nessarose was always his favorite. I was a disgrace to my mother as I was then and I still am green as sin. I was Nessarose's constant nurse, never like a sister to her, but more like a servant. I had never really known love. I had never even thought of myself as a human before, looking the way I did. Tears had welled in my eyes, burning worse than fire, and as I went to wipe them away he took me in his arms, trying to comfort me. We realized it then as we were wrapped in each other's arms how badly we had fallen for each other. I had connected with him in a way that I had never connected with anyone; I was willing to share everything with him. I could never talk like that with Glinda, no matter how good a friend she had once been to me. And there was nothing that had ever felt like the first time Fiyero and I made love to each other. When I was with him I felt beautiful for the first time in my life. He made me feel like I was worth something, which is more than I can say for anyone else. Ours was a love so strong we were willing to follow each other to the death.
:To the death . . . :
I glance down at my hands, my fingers lacing themselves together and unlacing again. I catch sight of the long, thin scars on the insides of my wrists, and forceful memories of that fateful Lurlinemas Eve forced themselves into my head. They would not be pushed away, no matter how hard I tried.
That ill-fated night, I had told Fiyero not to follow or wait up for me. I had important business to attend to with the anarchist cell I was a part of. But he didn't listen. He had followed me, and before I could notice he was there he had raced back to my house. He had wanted to surprise me, to spend the night with me once I got back, but he was discovered. They followed him.
My cell's operation had failed, and I had traipsed back to my shed with only the promise of a long, lonely winter night ahead of me. I hadn't the slightest idea what Fiyero had planned. I climbed the stairs to my closet of a room, and when I reached it I choked as my heart leapt into my throat. There was blood everywhere, covering everything, and in the midst of the hellish scarlet mess was the lifeless body of my Fiyero, beaten and broken on the floor. The people who had finished him left a sign on the wall, painted in the crimson blood of my lover, a hot-air balloon, the emblem of the Gale Force, the Wizard's army. I had taken Fiyero in my arms, kissed his cold lips for the last time, and grabbed a knife from the counter with every intention of slitting my wrists. I had sliced the blade into each of them; red blood blossomed over green skin, but I had not cut deep enough to kill myself. I was too afraid. I had only succeeded in mixing some of my blood with that already covering the room, and causing myself physical pain to add to that of my breaking heart.
To this day I regret not following Fiyero into death, for in doing so I have condemned myself to nothing more than a bare lonely existence, to waste away with no one giving a damn whether I end my life or not.
:He died because he loved me.: I think once more. :Everyone I care for is taken from me. And why? Because the rest of society is so closed-minded that just because I'm different and I have a mind of my own they consider me too dangerous to just leave be:
I feel Killyjoy's cold wet nose brush my elbow. The moisture softly burns my skin, but as of now I'm too distracted to give it much thought. He reaches a paw up and places it next to mine, which is resting, clenched tight, on the windowsill. He gently pries my fingers off the stone of the windowsill with his teeth and licks my scars. Then he trots away from me to the other side of the room, pawing his way through the many books and papers littering the place.
I watch him intently. He noses through the contents of my open clothes chest until he comes to what he is searching for. His muzzle surfaces out of the jumbled mess of clothing, and I see in his mouth a piece of cloth, old and tattered. He walks back to me, dropping the cloth near my hand. I pick it up. It's an old fringed silk scarf, red roses on a black background. Warmth rushes to my face. I remember this. Fiyero had given it to me all those years ago. I had always kept it tied around my waist when we made love. I had worn it tied around my waist the night he died, before I discovered the hell that had befallen him in my absence. It was sort of a good luck charm, a piece of him to take with me on my Lurlinemas Eve undertaking, a reminder of how he had given me his heart. :Some luck it had brought me.: But still, the old ratty thing holds more good sentiments than anything else I could hold against it.
I raise it to my face and inhale deeply. It still smells of him, of perfumed sweat and the dried herbs I had once kept around the old Emerald City rattrap. It's a sad, sweet scent now that I remember it. My eyes burn. The tears don't fall, thank goodness. I don't need any more pain to add to that which the memories brought flowing back. Once the moisture subsides, I look at the scarf once more, and I run my hand over the roses. I smile a little. :Not all memory is bad.: I take the ends of it and knot it once more around my waist. It's a small comfort, that scarf, a reminder that I had once felt what love was like, how exquisite loving and being loved could make you feel, and I was not about to forget it.
I hear a rustle from my trunk again. My dog is back at it, once more rummaging through the contents of my trunk. Killyjoy comes up for air with another of my scarves in his mouth. I walk to him and pry his jaws away from the fabric. This one is more eye-catching than the red-on-black roses. I didn't remember this one. It was a shade of green almost identical to the color of my skin, with azure diamonds gracing the emerald background. Then the significance of it hits me like a brick to the head. Blue diamonds on an emerald field . . .
:Oh, Fiyero . . . !: I sigh, and this time the tears do come. I press the scarf to my eyes to keep them at bay. And somehow they don't burn as much as they did before.
A throbbing ache in my chest and darkness.
That is the extent of my knowledge at the moment.
Everything hurts and everything's black.
I open my eyes and I'm met with a pounding behind the eyes that forces me to close them again. Soon enough the sensation subsides and I sit up, massaging my bright emerald green temples with bright emerald green fingers. Damn green. That color had made me an outcast since I was born.
There's light just starting to leak into my tower through the one window, facing the east. Killyjoy, my very large dog of no particular breed, lifts his head and whines. Slowly he gets up and pads to my side, putting his large paws in my lap. He can tell I'm in pain. He knows me better than any human alive. The only person who's ever known me as well as my dog does has been dead for a little more than nine years. I scratch Killyjoy behind the ears and I stare across the room to the window, lost in thought. That dream has haunted my sleep for nine years and I'm still terrified of it. I shudder at the thought. Even in wakefulness I can't escape that feeling of blind animal fear, of grief too deep to be banished by the light of day.
:Damn it, Fiyero, I told you not to wait for me at home that day! You were crazy to love me like you did. Look where it got you!: my mental voice screams at him.
:You're dead because you loved me!: I stare fixedly out the window.
:Pull yourself together, Elphaba! It's been nine years. He's been gone for nine years. Nine long, lonely, painful years.:
I stand up and walk to the window, reaching over to pet Chistery, my still-sleeping monkey. He chatters in his sleep at my touch. I smile wanly at him.
:Another day within the confines of Kiamo Ko. Oh joy. What new depressing thoughts will enter my head today?: I think to myself. Kiamo Ko, this castle-fortress out in the middle of the Vinkus, is my home now, but I hate it here. Everything in this godforsaken place screams "Fiyero!" at me. He used to own this place, used to grace it's halls with his presence, just like he would grace my rattrap, my bed, all those years ago. Gods, I miss him. I love him. I hate him for loving me back like he did, getting himself killed because of me. I lapse involuntarily back into memories.
There was his first day at Shiz. We were both in Dr. Nikidik's biology class, the day with the antler incident. It was Fiyero's first day there; he was so terrified and shy. Then the spell went wrong and the newly-magicked antlers went and attacked the poor boy, almost strangling him until Crope and Tibbet, two of my once-good friends wrestled them away from him. He had those beautiful striking blue diamonds painted on his face . . .
There was that day at the temple of Saint Glinda, when he saw me and recognized me after five years of not hearing of head nor tail of me. I tried to outwit him, keep him from getting too close to me, but he was so persistent. He followed me to that hovel I called home and wouldn't leave me alone until I would hear him out. It was then I realized how much I had missed that easy companionship we had had in our days at Shiz. From then on we would meet often to talk to each other; we would talk of memories, he would tell me about the world outside my little corner of it. I fell in love.
There was the time he was telling me about his family, and I broke down before him like never before. I had never had what you would call a "loving" family. To my father I was nothing more than a tool for him to use in his preaching; my sister Nessarose was always his favorite. I was a disgrace to my mother as I was then and I still am green as sin. I was Nessarose's constant nurse, never like a sister to her, but more like a servant. I had never really known love. I had never even thought of myself as a human before, looking the way I did. Tears had welled in my eyes, burning worse than fire, and as I went to wipe them away he took me in his arms, trying to comfort me. We realized it then as we were wrapped in each other's arms how badly we had fallen for each other. I had connected with him in a way that I had never connected with anyone; I was willing to share everything with him. I could never talk like that with Glinda, no matter how good a friend she had once been to me. And there was nothing that had ever felt like the first time Fiyero and I made love to each other. When I was with him I felt beautiful for the first time in my life. He made me feel like I was worth something, which is more than I can say for anyone else. Ours was a love so strong we were willing to follow each other to the death.
:To the death . . . :
I glance down at my hands, my fingers lacing themselves together and unlacing again. I catch sight of the long, thin scars on the insides of my wrists, and forceful memories of that fateful Lurlinemas Eve forced themselves into my head. They would not be pushed away, no matter how hard I tried.
That ill-fated night, I had told Fiyero not to follow or wait up for me. I had important business to attend to with the anarchist cell I was a part of. But he didn't listen. He had followed me, and before I could notice he was there he had raced back to my house. He had wanted to surprise me, to spend the night with me once I got back, but he was discovered. They followed him.
My cell's operation had failed, and I had traipsed back to my shed with only the promise of a long, lonely winter night ahead of me. I hadn't the slightest idea what Fiyero had planned. I climbed the stairs to my closet of a room, and when I reached it I choked as my heart leapt into my throat. There was blood everywhere, covering everything, and in the midst of the hellish scarlet mess was the lifeless body of my Fiyero, beaten and broken on the floor. The people who had finished him left a sign on the wall, painted in the crimson blood of my lover, a hot-air balloon, the emblem of the Gale Force, the Wizard's army. I had taken Fiyero in my arms, kissed his cold lips for the last time, and grabbed a knife from the counter with every intention of slitting my wrists. I had sliced the blade into each of them; red blood blossomed over green skin, but I had not cut deep enough to kill myself. I was too afraid. I had only succeeded in mixing some of my blood with that already covering the room, and causing myself physical pain to add to that of my breaking heart.
To this day I regret not following Fiyero into death, for in doing so I have condemned myself to nothing more than a bare lonely existence, to waste away with no one giving a damn whether I end my life or not.
:He died because he loved me.: I think once more. :Everyone I care for is taken from me. And why? Because the rest of society is so closed-minded that just because I'm different and I have a mind of my own they consider me too dangerous to just leave be:
I feel Killyjoy's cold wet nose brush my elbow. The moisture softly burns my skin, but as of now I'm too distracted to give it much thought. He reaches a paw up and places it next to mine, which is resting, clenched tight, on the windowsill. He gently pries my fingers off the stone of the windowsill with his teeth and licks my scars. Then he trots away from me to the other side of the room, pawing his way through the many books and papers littering the place.
I watch him intently. He noses through the contents of my open clothes chest until he comes to what he is searching for. His muzzle surfaces out of the jumbled mess of clothing, and I see in his mouth a piece of cloth, old and tattered. He walks back to me, dropping the cloth near my hand. I pick it up. It's an old fringed silk scarf, red roses on a black background. Warmth rushes to my face. I remember this. Fiyero had given it to me all those years ago. I had always kept it tied around my waist when we made love. I had worn it tied around my waist the night he died, before I discovered the hell that had befallen him in my absence. It was sort of a good luck charm, a piece of him to take with me on my Lurlinemas Eve undertaking, a reminder of how he had given me his heart. :Some luck it had brought me.: But still, the old ratty thing holds more good sentiments than anything else I could hold against it.
I raise it to my face and inhale deeply. It still smells of him, of perfumed sweat and the dried herbs I had once kept around the old Emerald City rattrap. It's a sad, sweet scent now that I remember it. My eyes burn. The tears don't fall, thank goodness. I don't need any more pain to add to that which the memories brought flowing back. Once the moisture subsides, I look at the scarf once more, and I run my hand over the roses. I smile a little. :Not all memory is bad.: I take the ends of it and knot it once more around my waist. It's a small comfort, that scarf, a reminder that I had once felt what love was like, how exquisite loving and being loved could make you feel, and I was not about to forget it.
I hear a rustle from my trunk again. My dog is back at it, once more rummaging through the contents of my trunk. Killyjoy comes up for air with another of my scarves in his mouth. I walk to him and pry his jaws away from the fabric. This one is more eye-catching than the red-on-black roses. I didn't remember this one. It was a shade of green almost identical to the color of my skin, with azure diamonds gracing the emerald background. Then the significance of it hits me like a brick to the head. Blue diamonds on an emerald field . . .
:Oh, Fiyero . . . !: I sigh, and this time the tears do come. I press the scarf to my eyes to keep them at bay. And somehow they don't burn as much as they did before.