Disclaimer: Gregory, Mr. I-own-Wicked-haw-haw-haw.
Note: Finally! This chapter was 'close to being done' for days. Be it rushed or unconventional, it is here, and very, very queer. I couldn't help it.
To NoodleJelly- Miss Elphaba Thropp, Thropp Third Descending of Munchkinland's thoughts may not align in this chapter, either, but let me ask you this: when one is blinded by the sinister bliss of slash fanfiction love, are they not expected to act oddly?
- - -
That morning's warmth could easily be compared to that of thawing after a long chill. Draping oneself before a lit hearth after hours in the seasonal cold prove august and positively luxurious, much so that no one wishes to be torn away. A fireside's warmth, in its sumptuousness, may act as a sleeping draught to the exhausted; as was the turn in weather that Galinda's shoulders were fully exposed to. Her chest gradually became somnolent and her head lethargic.
As she ambled along the cobblestone steps away from the Sciences department, even the birds idly chirping solely out of obligation, the Frottican wished nothing more to be back within the covers of her bed; conveniently at her disposal. Now that even Madame Head had vanished from the premises, Galinda was exempt from chastisement of offences as obscene as frolicking about Crage Hall in nothing but her offensively revealing undergarments. Not that the blonde could- or would- possibly fathom the imagery, yet its excessiveness was potent enough to tire the likes of a ticktock creature.
When Galinda imagined herself safety sleeping in her bed, it was that which was left behind in her home in Pertha Hills; curled into fetal position with the sheets, snug from her slumbering, wrapping the girl from head to foot. And yet, it would seem the innocence of such a pleasantry was growing a bore on the Frottican, and her idealistic illustration of comfort was becoming not one of solitude, but of accompaniment in any bed at all, so long as her slumbering would be shared with the great Thropp Third Descending.
She mused, while unworriedly noticing the misfortune of walking adrift in an area of the grounds unrecognisable, that if she were to declare love for the person of such title, her parents would not disagree; of course, without first meeting her. It made the girl giggle, if not faintly.
"Would you open your ears and hear that, Tibbet?" came an echoing, buoyant voice, which signified but one thing.
"As a matter of fact, dear boy," was the inevitable reply to a conversation Galinda doubtlessly knew was being performed for her sake, "my ears are constantly opened. One might call it a genetic dysfunction, these dreadful holes at either side of my head. Me pa's got 'em, too."
"But would you hear that- it sounded like the distant call of a cuckoo Gillikinese girl!"
"Yes," Tibbet agreed, his tone of voice giving way to a grin, "during mating season. Rarely does the male ear experience it."
Galinda heaved a readying sigh and turned to face the pair who were, now that she caught view of them, conspicuously strolling few steps behind her. "That's where I draw the line and refuse for you to continue," she scolded, arching each of her arms out like porcelain handles to imply that each boy should take each arm, which they did.
Clad in matching Shiz colours, both boys were terrible at masking their enthusiasm for the invitation. The Frottican flashed a pretty smile, one practiced so often in a mirror that Ama Clutch could detect its falsify; as could Elphaba, by the way she would frown whenever it was presented in front of her.
It was not that she didn't appreciate the boys' company; in fact, they had grown onto her in such a way that instilled the fondness of brothers, however limited their time. She thought perhaps Elphaba might have felt this way, as well, being that the green girl seemed to supervise them more than any other enjoyment of friendship.
"M'lady." Tibbet teetered his head in a curt bow, voice obviously mocking Morrible's finishing school accent. "Where may we be escorting you this bright morning?"
"I was thinking of checking back to Crage Hall," answered the girl severely. Crope and Tibbet shared a look, then used their grip to raise her feet from the ground and steer her rearwards completely. A squeal elicited from her lips, and her feet touched the ground as quickly as they left to walk in the correct direction.
"Alley oop!" Crope grunted, grinning toothily at the diminutive girl. "I wonder what's on your mind, Miss Galinda, to have lost your way. Tibbet and I know every direction back to Three Queens."
"It's true," nodded the other. "We know every short cut on campus."
"Off campus," Crope added.
"Through alleys and under womens' skirts," Tibbet crooned fondly.
"Hitching a ride on the back of wagons," Crope said, almost dreamily. Then he resumed his grin. "Why the dorm? It's a splendid morning."
"I'm in need to freshening up before this afternoon's activities," she explained, not wanting the boys to think her desperate for Elphaba's return.
"Oh! An outing in town?" wondered Tibbet excitedly.
"You must tell us all about your mysterious company during this excursion," insisted Crope, whose walk was solid and poised in comparison to the female saunter of Tibbet's foot.
Tibbet simulated a noise of flatulence with his tongue to dismiss the other boy. "That's not important now, when we haven't yet heard of the other night," he told them sardonically, causing Galinda to blush the faintest hint of cherry.
Crope's expression became solemn as a he hummed in deliberation, looking at the blonde intently. "That's right," he agreed, "when we were thrown out after a great stage was planned."
Galinda could feel the hotness rising in her cheeks, undoubtedly accented by the light blush applied before the assembly, and couldn't comprehend why she felt this embarrassed. Usually, she was proud of her fluency in natter, especially when it came to impressing other girls with her aptitude for maddening boys. Not that she avidly played a temptress, for her discussions were admonishing when participants' commends were crude or liberal. She was a supercilious kisser; now, she felt like a naive private school girl caught in the act.
"Um," she began shakily, swallowing roughly, "Elphaba and I made up. It was over frivolous folly, our quarrel."
Tibbet waved his free hand dismissively. "Of course you reunited your comradery- were we not around during Morrible's write-off? Remember the whole things about 'secret yearning'?"
Galinda bit her tongue thinking of how to word her discontent. "It's just-" she sighed, both boys leaning in despite their walking state with anticipation. "Well, I never really said it outright."
It were as though two valves had been released, for both Crope and Tibbet simultaneously let the air held in their lungs out disappointedly, as though they wouldn't hear Galinda under the sound of breathing.
"Surely you asked Elphaba this morning," assumed the girl desperately.
Crope straightened his back and slipped his free hand into his vest, as a plump businessman or colonial crusader might. "Miss Elphaba has never been one for gossip," he explained. "I may personally verify her dislike, having had inanimate objects thrown at me for making crude assumptions for the pleasure of conversation."
"We have yet to see such a violent reaction from any other subject," Tibbet said in an earnest tone deliberately set for mockery.
Galinda nodded her head with absent comprehension, thinking, Neither have I, unfortunately.
Tibbet sighed exaggeratedly girlishly and drawled, "I so hoped you, of all, would be able to incite something other than ice in Miss Icy Elphaba."
The blonde might have been finding herself in love with an entity far from the likes originally imagined and strategized, but she would not easily be discouraged in a challenge. In her status of social class, competition was wide and victors were minimal- but among them was Galinda.
"She's not so hostile," chided she lightly, casting her eyes downward in order to bat her eyelashes mysteriously. Tibbet's expression slowly grew into a triumphant grin, meeting Crope with a laugh that, if not for the insinuated ridiculousness, was in astonishment.
"Dear Miss Galinda, is it true?" urged Crope.
Galinda allowed herself a smirk. "True only if you never speak of it away from my ears."
Tibbet gave her a congratulatory pat on the hand, beckoning her. "You must tell us all about it."
Galinda pursed her lips into a half-smile, grateful for their presence. Finally she had someone with whom to discuss in detail her distress over Elphaba, even if there were connotations she wasn't willing to admit to anyone but herself. It was refreshing to the girl whose company was usually scandalized by the sight of a nick on the hem of a day dress.
"Well," began the blonde, reminding herself to suppress her giddiness with afterthought, "you had just left, and she and I had got around to a discussion of… our relationship."
Crope raised a mischievous brow higher than the other, his lips stretched to suppress a giggle. "So blunt?"
Shaking her head no, Galinda's curls bobbed with the obedience of unsullied preening. "It was masked by other subjects, of course. Simply speaking aloud before such things exist is the taboo of bad breeding," she elucidated with much conviction. "But then… she asked if it were okay to entrust her with something. I said, don't be ridiculous. And then-" the boys leaned in, "Well, it was the most surprisingly glorious kiss I've ever had."
"This is to say that it was Miss Elphie who kissed you?" Tibbet asked with utter doubt, his tone flattened.
The blonde flashed him a secretive smile, "I said she is not so hostile."
"And how was it?" beckoned Crope. "Was it open, closed? Were anyone's tongues involved?"
Galinda lolled her head to one side and whined, as though it were painful, "s this something I have to notify you of?"
Crope nodded, finding Tibbet's eyes and signalling for him to nod, as well. "Why, Miss Galinda, it's more mandatory than your telling us of the kiss in general."
There was an excitement in summoning up what would be most appropriate to describe Elphaba. The blonde mused that condensing experiences would be one of the greatest allures which drew a writer to his craft. "Er, it was quite unexpected," she began, "but it instigated innocently."
"You escalated?" cried Tibbet. "To what?"
Galinda gave a small shrug, shoulder aligning with collarbone. "To anything you could expect from a kiss, I suppose."
The boys took their turns hooting at her, a sort of celebratory mockery of Galinda's champion romantic behaviour, though she wouldn't dare verbalize her apprehension. She hoped dearly that Elphaba would not hear of this; doubtless she would swear the blonde away in discovery of flippant confession of what belonged wholly to only the two. And yet, it was Galinda's nature- her class and influence from raising- to have an open mouth- in a conservative sense. It was a fairly ironic trade; one could tell all of oneself and of others, yet most truths were veiled, for fear that they might leave one's house.
Galinda thought the boys were on verge of song before they ceased their rowdiness, hardly anyone on campus able to view their shenanigans, for which the blonde was appreciative. The majority of remaining students had not arrived to the morning's assembly, but those without jobs or within special operations were curious as to what Madame Head had to say for herself.
They had not time to watch Crage Hall grow in size before them, for the plain was flat and their heads were indolent from the morning's escalating warmth. Tibbet's strides were in time with Galinda's as he spoke, "You must admit what was said before your blissful moment."
"Actually, we were speaking of Boq," she replied nonchalantly, careless wither words.
The two boys completely stopped walking, their immobilization creating a jerking affect for the blonde, who failed to comprehend how transitional her words could be. If not for the arms encasing hers, which was the cause of the peril, she would have tripped and landed upon her expensively pretty face.
Tibbet's mouth was ajar in shock, whilst Crope's eyebrows were quite nearly at his hairline. "You mentioned Boq and Miss Elphaba kissed you?" Crope asked, having trouble closing his mouth after words escaped it.
Galinda bit her lip, apprehensive now that there was more than one similar reaction of adverse inference. She scrambled to redeem herself, "Not Boq, per se, but his pursuit after my heart. You see, she only meant that it is… it is…" she was lost for words, for the first time having to scrape up a reasoning for exactly why Elphaba mentioned Master Boq.
"It is rather troublesome?" Tibbet clucked with sympathy.
"Imagine that," burred Crope, "a magic word to provoke Miss Elphaba's sexual arousal."
Galinda sighed, "That's not what I meant."
They ignored her displeasure, as Tibbet struck Contrapposto and speculated, "Little Master Boq knows not the power he might possess over women."
"I quite agree," Crope could barely contain his giggles, a snort escaping. "A womanizer, through and through!"
They finally submitted to a fit of laughter, but Galinda could not tell if their yodelling chuckles were at her expense. Truthfully, this added little fuel to her fire of trepidation, but its efficacy was enough to adequately ruin her nerves. Recalling that fascinatingly uncalled for kiss, Elphaba's mentioning of Boq seemed to be halted and her aforementioned actions motivated by some other, abrupt thought.
"When you've spent your day's worth of ghoulishness, please call upon me," the girl growled at them, her eyes narrowed into resentful slits.
Another snort elicited from Crope, as he, it seemed when realizing what hurt their outburst could have borne, forced his laughter to die out. "Apologies, Miss Galinda," he curtsied by slightly bending his knobby knees. "Really, cast away your worries of Boq."
Tibbet administered a light whack to the other boy's arm. "Do not lose your wariness. It is arduous enough to retain a man's loyalty- but Miss Elphie is a completely separate classification, in a respectful manner."
"Or not!" giggled Crope.
Galinda nodded at them so as to agree, and convince herself too of believing their wisdom. The entrance to Crage Hall was just in her reach, an arm's extension away from wrapping neatly manicured fingers about the knob of one door embossed with Shiz's school emblem. It would likely still be cool as before the assembly within, but igniting the hearth before freshening for her afternoon spent with Miss Savanna would disentangle a problem so miniscule in comparison to seeking time alone to fester in the affliction Crope and Tibbet instilled.
-
"Blessed Unnamed God, could this be true?"
"Your dramatics are patronising me," Elphaba stated tediously, tapping the lead in her lithe fingers upon the edge of a textbook, the other hand supporting her sharp chin.
Wedekind shook his head no, spastically enough to have prompted a dishevelment of his circular spectacles, for which he pushed up again with equal muddling. Their text and reference books were sprawled and piled on their laps and the settee with which they sat, since every library closed inequitably prematurely than when the semester was in session, and so their studies were taking into the science hall. They sat in a stone corridor, on furnishings likely never utilized for their initial intention of comfort, which the two briefly jested of when their seriousness was roosted
"And yet it would seem you've a memory of Munchkin language in general," beamed the boy.
"Proving once again that I'm not all daft," Elphaba smirked, noticing the horizon's transformation from daylight to a pinkish haze.
"I never said that," defended the Munchkin. "I was merely reinforcing the expediency of your familiarity in Munchkinland. It may be exploited."
Elphaba folded her fingers nattily in her lap. "I wasn't exactly fluent as a toddler," she said drearily.
Wedekind shrugged. "You must tell me of it anyway. I am profoundly interested in the dynamics of monarchy."
"You'll have to ask an Ozma to receive that kind of oral anecdote, Master Wedekind," the green girl glared, unused to the attention to her blood that Wedekind gave. "Is your paper completed?"
It took a moment for the boy to register that it was his turn to speak, gazing at Elphaba, and the girl was unable to tell his exact expression for the spectacles that blocked her path. His torso wrenched, though, and he coughed, ruffling through the book bag that lay at his feet like a faithful dog.
"Ehm, yes, I have," he cleared his throat and produced a beige folder, thick with its contents. "Perhaps you could read it over to decipher whether or not I am condemned to failure?"
He held out the folder for her, and Elphaba flipped to the first page, reading intently. She made several tutting noises with her mouth for effect, and the boy looked flustered by the time she had placed the thing into her own canvas bag.
In the changing light, which now held an orange appeal, their own colours were changing, along with the reflection on the stone floor, which had turned a bright brown in comparison to the usual grey. The green girl knew it was her cue to part from the hall, though her own lesson was not quite ended.
"That's a lovely sunset," commented the boy, though Elphaba couldn't be precise as to whether he was actually looking at the horizon, or at her.
"If I agree, will you let me go?" she asked, gathering the rest of her belongings into the bag, then arranging it over her shoulder, folded cloak under her arm.
Wedekind sighed and adjusted his spectacles, inspecting the state of the rigid girl. "It would seem I have only false authority in the matter."
"Pretty much," Elphaba's boots connected with the floor and echoed throughout the empty hall. "Good evening, Master Wedekind."
-
The noblest thing a person could do when ones life was as secluded, one's experience as chaste, and one's heart as insecure would be to turn away from a kiss and all its uncouth propositions. Yet, the element of surprise has such lasting effect on the central nervous system that one could potentially experience slight jitters of confusion, even clandestine joy, after the moment one's body is rendered temporarily immobile in astonishment.
That would become Elphaba's excuse, as her eyes leisurely lidded and her shoulders relaxed after the jolt of shock declining down her body. She daren't touch the Frottican with her bare fingers, for the fear that the sensation emanating from the harmony of their lips might cease, or simply reaching out might confirm the non-existence of a fantasy.
Her bag slowly descended from her shoulder and hit the floor with a thump that shook the room, but neither flinched. At last, when they broke apart, Elphaba took up her bag and headed towards her cot of a bed, not once smiling nor peering back in reference to a woman who greeted her so intimately. The blonde stood airily for a moment, then gently closed the door into its frame.
The green girl noticed that Galinda had descended to her part of the room without locking the door. "Has Ama Clutch not returned yet?" she asked politely.
"Wherever she is spending the break off campus, its certainly proving the peak of her old age," mused the blonde, sitting at her vanity and modifying her hair. Already, she wore a light evening dress bearing hardly any distinction from the one worn during the day. "How was your day with Dr. Dillamond?"
Elphaba considered her reply honestly, laying a book upon her covers, as well as Wedekind's Life Sciences paper. "Wearisome," she concluded. "And of you, with the few survivors you managed to scrape up?"
Galinda sighed, sweeping a brush through her hair, the silver handle cool under her shaky, moist palms. "Fruitful, as far as autumn fashions go." She caught view of Elphaba smiling slightly in the mirror, her eyes deliberately searching to meet the blonde's. What was a ghost of affection was absent, and it seemed the green girl was searching for something, as though there was a high likelihood of a stranger crawling out of Galinda' vanity.
The blonde placed the brush down and addressed Elphaba, whose jaw was clenched in a way that suggested smiling. "Elphaba," she said sternly, "do you have any idea-"
"Do you realize what occurred that moment ago?" asked the green girl, her monotonous question striking Galinda. The blonde was silent, suppressing a few chastising replies that might smear her repute as a lady, since Elphaba obviously had more to add to the rhetoric. "That was the jaded reaction of routine. Secrecy possesses initial excitement- one that will swiftly diminish and become terribly burdening. Is that what you want?"
"Elphaba-" Galinda tried again, but the green girl's voice was laced with something crude. Her voice would not rise in anger, but her brows connected in a way somehow suggesting childish stubbornness, at least, to the blonde.
"Conduct enough of the same experiment, and you'll discover a pattern," the green girl spat coldly.
Galinda clenched her fist and relieved it, twirling around to face the tangible Elphaba, rather than the reflection. Having the conversation with a mere reflection of reality instilled what seemed so disquieting as fright in Galinda, and even Elphaba seemed a little startled that she was no longer speaking with manifestations of light.
"Elphaba," tried the blonde again for the third time, earning her roommate's undivided attention, "your 'reaction of routine' was a failure to admit that I kissed you- just the same as you had done to me prior evening. If you feel inclined to know what I want, that's perfectly apt, because that would be you."
The green girl quietly bowed her head, a hand on each knee that hung over her mattress. Her legs spread away from the bedding in a way that Galinda could never hope for, as her feet hardly touched the floor, and it would seem Elphaba was ruminating just that.
Galinda leaned towards her, though they were half a room separate, trying to decipher the green girl's expression. "So," she began slowly, treading over her words with utmost care. Elphaba was a loose cannon, as it were, "May I?"
Elphaba fondled the end of her braid, slack strands that were free from binding weaving in and out her fingertips. Her lips were parted, yet her teeth were clenched as she replied softly, "I may be the improper person to enquire, Galinda."
She let her back muscles relax and fell onto the covers of her bed, head hitting the edge of the textbook that lay near the pillow. The green girl did not speak after that, only laid down quietly enough to convince Galinda that she was asleep, save for her open eyes. Her eyelashes fluttered against the gas lamp's light near her face, the newly set sun leaving a shrouded cloak of black for them to squint against.
Galinda wished that she could repeat her roommate's actions and lay motionless in bed; yet, she wished furthermore for it to be one of the two already in habited in their quaint, Crage Hall suite.
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If anyone is confused, there are two days spread over three chapters (from ten to twelve). And now, you must review. Ready? NOW! The gods of reviewing (depicted by Monsieur Purple Button) say now.
