A/N: Thank you for the review! And sorry, again that this chapter is short, but until the story really gets going this is the way they'll have to be. I don't own Wicked, but I do own the plot, yay! Hope you enjoy. :D
"So," the Witch said, at last. "This is what we've sunk to."
An altar, raising fifteen or twenty feet high off the ground, was carved crudely with dismembered animals, or Animals, it clearly made no difference to the creator. The surface, though difficult to see from Elphaba's standpoint, was strewn with carnage and blood from the last slaughtering. A team of what appeared to be cleaners had come to scrub the sacred stone.
Elphaba was reminded of a conversation she had held with a captive Cow, years ago. Sacrificing Animals certainly wasn't out of these peasants' reach. And a voice- but whose?- somewhere from the past: something to do with being more civilized, yet the entertainments had gone barbaric...
"You can hardly blame them," Glinda mumbled. "After the past few decades. And besides, this certainly isn't representative of all of Oz-"
"Oh, yes it is!" Elphaba snapped, coming out of her trance. "Those who stand by and watch this happen are just as guilty as those who wield the axe!"
"Oh, Elphie, you haven't changed a bit."
"I wish I could say the same for you."
Glinda coughed uncomfortably as Elphaba watched the cleaning crew at their work. "Well... it's been... well, I'm out of niceties to use-"
The Witch smirked.
"But I really do need to be getting back to Sir Chuffrey," Glinda finished hastily. "It looks bad if I'm both away from him and the public eye-"
"Musn't ruin our reputation."
"Oh, hush, just because you haven't one to keep!" the Good Witch scolded, half-affectionately. "But really..."
"So you're just going to push this task- which you created- at my feet?" Elphaba commanded. Glinda blushed, but a glint of steel shined in her eye.
"You want those shoes, don't you?"
"You aren't really so kind and generous after all, are you?" Elphaba snarled. "Deep down you're just a silly, seventeen year old girl, unable to take responsibility for your own-"
"Alright, alright," Glinda moaned. "Listen- I'll try to assist you. But honestly, Elphie, this is more your game than mine."
"What do you mean?"
"Dealing in secret. Standing your ground. That kind of thing," Glinda yawned. "Oh, excuse me. Now Elphie, I really must be getting back to Chuffrey-"
"Fine. But I expect a letter within a week in response to the plan I devise," said Elphaba, crossing her arms. Glinda's fine eyebrows raised.
"Oh, Elphaba, what are you going to do to save that poor girl?"
"It's the shoes I'm after," corrected Elphie, "And I'm the Wicked Witch of the West. They'll be lucky to keep their lives."