Author's Note: Felt like writing some typical Gelphie fluff, and came up with this. :P Hope you enjoy it!
Beautiful:
Oneshot
Oz, as a nation, had suffered from political, social and economic issues since its very genesis. Rarely had their been a period in its history where there was peace, or something close to resembling that, as had been stoicly proven, near unachievable ideal. For the most part, it had been ruled by the long line of Ozma Regents, the royal family, whose various monarchs had been deposed by military coups, ridiculued by their court and kingdom to the point of abdication and generally shown themselves to be astonishingly poor rulers. Not that the alternatives, such as Elphaba's idol, their current tyrannical Wizard, had been any better. Arguably, Oz had never been in a worse state than it was currently; at least in the era of the Great Famine, after a woefully unsuccesful attempt at communist revolution, there had been a degree of togetherness and cooperation between the four quadrants and emerald-adorned capital. Now, there was segragation, upheaval and unrest, and the Wizard was chanelling all of that rampant paranoia towards the Animals in the hopes of smothering their demand for equality.
Elphaba often wondered why she had to the one burdened by caring about such immorality. Life must be incredibly easy for the citizens of Oz who kept themselves ignorant, concealing themselves from the violence and propaganda. She was not an Animal, as that upstart soon-to-be aristocrat Avaric Tenmeadows had so perceptively noted, so why did she bother? Perhaps she just boasted an inherently stronger sense of justice... or maybe it stemmed from the fact that she was no stranger to prejudice based on appearance. Was that not why she had insantly empathised with the late Dr Dillamond, a man whose mere genetics had preceeded his brilliant intellect and academic expertise? The anger within her at his fate still burnt, singed fiercely through her veins. She felt somehow, even in death, that she was inexplicably linked to her old professor. She felt obligated to continue his groundbreaking work, to allow his memory and legacy to live on, and to contribute the cause he talked of with such inflamed passion. The Resistance often walked the continually thin line between freedom fighting and terrorism, but their motives were more than admirable and the Wizard had proven time and time again that he thought himself exempt from such matters as negotiation. Compromise was a trivial obstacle preventing him from obtaining what he desired: the total subjugation of the Animal class.
It was no surprise that, in a land festering with such deeply rooted contempt and misery, Elphaba struggled to see past the shroud of pessimism and disillusionment that, since her arrival at Shiz, had begun to encircle her. Seeking happiness, or so she'd thought, was like searching for the land somewhere over the rainbow. Something confined to fairytales and mythology. Her childhood, though not physically abusive, had been full of neglect and sharp-edged glares from her father fired for no other reason than her existence. Like Oz, she noted, he required a scapegoat- an easy target to blame for his numerous grievances, and who better than the "heathen" child, whose hideous complexion caused bile to rise in the throat of everyone who beheld it? Her sister's companionship could barely be described as such, and upon arrival at Shiz, the univeristy which she'd spent her entire adolescence dreaming of not just for the personal betterment it would unlock but for some misplaced dream of friendship, it seemed there was to be no change.
Until Glinda.
This high society girl had descended from some faraway horizon and into her life purely by coincidence. Elphaba did not believe in such nonsensical rubbish as fate or destiny. Nothing at all happened for a reason. Munchkins and Vinkuns and Quadlings came into being by evolution, by the mere accumulation of circumstance and not by some notion preconceived by the Unnamed God her sister continued to insist on the divine power of. Your future was subject entirely to your own actions and the actions of others- it was Madame Morrible's misinterpretation of Glinda's intentions when she raised her hand that fateful first day that had brought them together. And now, for better or for worse, Elphaba knew she wouldn't ever be able to let go again.
Their dormitory was pitch black, illuminated by a single beam of light reaching from the full moon hung overhead and bursting through the glass pane of their window. Elphaba's deep hazel eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, so the contents of the room which she'd come to know so well was revealed to her in a strange hue of twisting silver and black, and the total silence wrapped around her, leaving her feeling warm and comfortable and secure, despite the bitter chill resting on the air. Winters in Munchkinland, or at least in the sense that the rest of Oz would describe it, were usuallly mild, and the change from autumn to the months of Lurlinemas was hardly noticeable save for the bareness of the expansive fields and dotted trees. It made the thin layer of snow blanketing the grass of Shiz's campus and the icy surface of Suicide Canal something of a wonder in the green girl's eyes. The previous nights she'd slept intermittently, disturbed by the cold that broke in from outside, untroubled by their attempts to contain it, and tonight, she lay wide awake once more, though on this occasion for an entirely different reason.
Her room-mate lay, ensnared by the comforts of the bedsheets and indeed the radiating body heat of their owner beside her. Glinda Upland, Pertha Hills born socialite, was sound asleep in the bed of Elphaba Thropp, the shame and abomination of Colwen Grounds. Before that evening, Elphaba would've scoffed at the very thought of an idea so ridiculous, yet here the blonde was, inhaling and exhaling through those delicate pink lips as if nothing at all out of the ordinary had just happened. The same could not be said for Elphaba. She was exhausted and exhilarated and subdued and enthralled all at once. It was if Glinda had held a match to her nerve endings like the wax of a candle and set them alight; burning and flickering; their flames waltzed off her emerald skin and onto the walls around them. Ground that she'd always assumed solid had crumbled her away beneath her feet, only to leave her not with the insecurity one might expect but an ebbing excitement. A searing disbelief.
She would never have allowed herself to do something so feminine and un-Elphaba as blush, but the colour of her cheeks had undoubtedly discoloured from its usual shade of emerald to a deeper, darker colour, closer resembling the falsely glimmering walls of the Ozian capital. Whether this was from embarassment or the instinctive inflamation, the afterglow, that came hand in hand with sex, she couldn't determine. The experience had sent her reeling. She'd read enough literature over the years to know of the typical perceptions of procreation, and now, she knew of the act with enough intimacy to declare that the majority of these were pure, unadulterated crap. They'd both been virgins, and their first time had been no extraordinary moment of maturity or expertly induced pleasure. Instead, it had been painfully awkward, performed like two partners learning to dance for the first time, or a young Fawn taking its first steps away from the comforts of a mother's belly. They'd both bled, and the sheet that had been permanently ruined now lay tossed aside on the wooden floor of their room. Their touches and caresses, hands shaking with insecurity and inexperience, had not, as was the cliche, set her heart alight in a stream of orgasmic gratification. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure if the shuddering waves of feeling, somewhere between agony and satisfaction, that had jacknived her body at the moment of "climax" could even be considered so, such was the trembling clumsiness of Glinda's rather pitiful attempt at finger-orientated stimulation. Nonetheless, the pure strength of sensation it evoked was no rumour. Elphaba had never felt more absurdly, breathlessly alive, or for that matter so aware of the woman beside her.
Her deep brown eyes softened. She had, of course, been aware that Glinda was beautiful before this moment, but now it seemed as if every curve of her body had been underlined. The long blonde hair sprawled out across her pillow like sunbeams. Her eyes were closed, but she knew their colour, a cerulean blue, would not doubt shine brighter than they ever had before. Her face was perfectly symmetrical, her nose dainty, her eyebrows thin and plucked- was there a better example of such typical yet stunning Gilikinese beauty in all of Oz? If power and influence were based on physical appearance alone, Glinda would be queen. Elphaba resisted the urge to reach forward and touch her soft, ivory skin lest she awake her soundly sleeping lover- she loved that perfect complexion most of all. Before they'd become firm friends, this admiration had been tainted by a bitter jealousy that, though it shamed her deeply, hadn't quite all evaporated. Of all the female students at Crage Hall, it just had to be Glinda (Galinda at the time), whose effortless eroticism only served to make her "Elphie" herself feel more dreadfully inadequate in her life. It was unsurprising that she would have low self-esteem; everyone she'd met had insisted her verdigris was a curse, a scourge, since her birth, but upon arrival at Shiz she'd managed to procure an element of immunity to such jibes directed towards her. Glinda, with her pouty lips, her breathless charm, her undeniable sexiness, had turned her into a whimpering, helpless child once more.
Elphaba could now see that her initial hatred for Glinda had stemmed from the same feeling rushing through her blood currently: attraction. She hated that Glinda hated her, and so did everything in her admittedly limited power to redirect that antagonism and make it appear as if she couldn't care less about Glinda's carelessly tossed rumours and insults. Love and hate were, at their most basic and primal, two sides of the same coin. It was like the sun and moon, sprinting their endless pursuit of the other over the sky of night and day. They were polar opposites. Inhabitants of two different completely different worlds. As a famous old Ozian poet once said, stone walls cannot keep out love, and their bizarre lust for the other had certainly done that, trascending seemingly insurmountable boundaries of formality and class and wealth. Glinda did not belong in her bed. Did not belong in the arms of one so repulsive. But there she was, and if Elphaba had any say in the matter, she would live this brief, blissful moment until her hair turned grey and the green of her skin rotted like leaves from summer to autumn.
She recalled how the Gilikin had come to be lying beside her and almost chuckled, suddenly struck by the hilarity of the situation and the stunned embarassment of her first reaction. It had been entirely instigated by Glinda. Upon mulling it over, aiding by the wonderfully insightful power of hindsight, Elphaba saw that they'd been dancing around each other for weeks, desperately trying to ignore the physical tension growing between them. She'd attempted to ignore, glancing away when their eyes lingered in that all too indicative "I-think-you're-fucking-sexy" fashion, or flinching away when their fingers and sides brushed- contact that was, of course, entirely unintentional on both of their parts. Why was it that love made such blustering fools of even the most intelligent individuals? Apparently, its effect was especially potent for Elphaba. Glinda had returned to their dormitory in a state of total disarray, her usually well-arranged hair bushed out like prickles on a thorn bush, her blue eyes full of tears that splashed and streamed down her dimpled cheeks, and in an instant Elphaba had lost all attention in her studies, her only concern being the comfort of the object of her affections. The green girl had quickly settled Glinda down on her bed, and the blonde gave into her ministrations, wrapping her slender arms round the crook of Elphaba's neck, whimpering of her breakup with such intensity that all of Elphaba's previous grudging respect for Fiyero Tigelaar instantly evaporated.
At the thought of the Vinkun prince who'd now definitely proven himself to be an unfaithful scumbag, Elphaba's eyes contracted to slits, strucked by a wave of palpable possessiveness. Glinda had gone to visit her ex-boyfriend in his private suite, only to find him entangled in the grasp of Sarima, a fellow Vinkun who'd hinted of her interest in the prince of her homeland with little to no subtlety. In truth, their break up had become a mere formality as of late, down to the bewildering attraction that Glinda had now, also without much subtlety, confirmed beyond doubt. Elphaba had no clue why, taking into account the sheer volume of handsome bachelors Glinda could have drooling at her feet at the click of a finger, she would choose her green-skinned room-mate, but the blonde could be assured that she would do all in her power to evince that no one would ever hurt her again in the way that Fiyero had. Once her tears had stopped, Glinda had looked up, her arms still locked around Elphaba's neck, her eyes now full of a fierce and intense sentiment, and without the warning closed the distance between them and straddled Elphaba's lap. Her eyes had widened. Her pulse had quickened and her insides had turned to a mush of overwhelming excitement and apprehension. She remembered murmuring some incomprehensible warning, some doubt over whether, in remaining silent, she'd be taking advantage of Glinda at her weakest point. One kiss, full of all the tender reassurance she required, had been enough to silence her protestations.
Glinda.
Sweet Lurline, Elphaba thought, unsure whether to laugh or cry. I've just slept with Glinda. The most amazing girl I've met.
A shift beside her. Glinda's eyes fluttered open. At first, Elphaba cursed, wondering what noise she'd inadvertently caused to disturb her lover's sleep, but then an adoring, only half-conscious smile broke onto the blonde's face.
'Elphie?' came her murmur. 'Why are you still awake?'
'I was thinking,' she admitted.
'Of course you were... about what?'
She hesitated, then her voice softened. 'I was thinking about how beautiful you are.'
The smile widened as Glinda twisted over, burying her face in the pillow and muffling her reply. But Elphaba caught it loud and clear.
'Not as beautiful as you.'