A/N: This was inspired by a movie my social studies teacher showed me called "Eye of the Storm" or "Class Divided". It's about this third grade teacher teaching her students about discrimination by discriminating by eye color. It isn't mildly related to this story, but it got me thinking about eyes.

Here's the part where I tell everyone about what's happening in my life! I'm seeing Wicked for the second time (unless you count YouTube views) when it comes to my hometown! And the best part? FRONT. ROW. TICKETS. You heard me. I'm thrillified (stupid spellcheck(it just said "thrillified" and "spellcheck" weren't words!)!

Mom (since I know you're reading this), I guess this is for you, because it took me nearly a month to come up with something I'd be comfortable for you to read and later harass me about. You can comment (if you really want to).


Part I- Elphaba

Elphaba's eyes were brown, flecked with amber. More often than not, they were straightforward and direct, somewhat piercing, even appearing angry. But she wasn't necessarily angry. But who would want to look close enough? It was easier to just look at the skin.

Occasionally though, her eyes glittered with her quick wit, often paired with a smirk or a raised eyebrow. Sometimes followed or preceded by an irritated eye-roll.

But rarely, very rarely, a warmth, even a loneliness, could be seen though the depths of her eyes. In fact, it wasn't terribly rare. At night, alone in her attic bedroom, or sitting at her own lunch table while listening to the whispers and giggles or insults and cruel jokes thrown at her harshly, she felt alone. That was how it was, how it always would be, she thought.

But wit, fire, courage, intelligence, compassion, strength, and integrity could all be seen in her eyes.

But, for a long time, no one even noticed them.