I'm going to apologize for sounding so damn depressed last chapter. I mean, I was, I always am around Father's Day, but that doesn't mean I should've actually written like I was depressed. Also apologizing for taking so long to update before Father's Day, but I was busy with Work and online classes, so yeah, sorry. And I have to admit I was watching Hunchback of Notre Dame, Pocahantas, Into temptation, Chicago and Legally Blonde the Musical on youtube, but in my defense, all of those are slightly related to Wicked in a way. Points if you know the connection. Anyways, I'm slightly more happy with this chapter, I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I may be overlly obsessed with Wicked, but it's never going to be mine.
Moira was losing control. It seemed like every emotion she'd ever put aside and locked away in the deepest recess of herself, was struggling to get to the surface. She'd put on this mask of emotionless stone to keep herself becoming too attached. People avoided her as a rule; they always avoided the stoic ones. Also, it kept her sane. She emotionally detached her soul when carrying out orders, that way it was a shell of the real her doing the murdering, not her. But now she'd broken down once, and her emotions were threatening to completely break lose. And she hated it. What was it about that damned straw man that had done it? For years she'd been caught repeatedly, imprisoned, and what not. She never tried especially hard to escape; it was a subconscious hope that maybe if she was caught and imprisoned for life, she wouldn't have to kill anymore. But every time someone figured it out and someone would give her more orders. And so, no matter how impossible, she would escape, and was forced to carry them out. If she was in this state when she had to kill again, she knew there'd be nothing stopping her from turning on herself to end her misery. She had to gain control, she just had to. A noise outside the questioning room drew her from her thoughts, and she looked up to see a young Gillikin woman looking at her with a bright smile. Moira was overwhelmed by the sense of comfort this girl had about her. The lady walked towards her, and sat in the chair across from her.
"Hello, Moira, was it? My name's Locasta, nice to meet you." Locasta said sweetly. Moira's mind began to become muddled with the air this girl carried, but she struggled against the warmth, she knew what was going on here.
"I doubt I could say likewise. And how do you know my name?" she retorted, her eyes glaring at the woman. She didn't trust her, especially when the girl was doing what she was doing.
"I overheard your little conversation with the Scarecrow, and I must say your little… predicament intrigued me." Locasta replied. Moira eyed her suspiciously, and twisted her bonds a little nervously, not liking to be so restrained and vulnerable around this woman. The sickeningly sweet aura was still fighting against her better judgment, but she held firm against it.
"So what do you want from me then, get to the point." Moira snapped. Locasta's smile faltered a bit and her eyebrows crinkled as if she was confused.
"Right, no getting around you, you're terribly blunt. If you must know, I have a request to make of you." Locasta said, her sweet voice dropping to a colder one now. She seemed to realize the act wasn't going to work on Moira.
"You're ordering me to kill someone? You almost don't seem the type." Moira responded bluntly. Her heart sunk, she wouldn't have the time to reign in her emotions now, and she was sure now she'd be dead by that time tomorrow.
"Now, now, we all know looks can be deceiving. Besides your eyes you hardly seem the killing type, but just look at you. But let's not go into that. Here's what I want. Truthfully, I would like to avoid this happening, so I'm not making this an order to be carried out immediately." Locasta began to explain. Moira laughed, a blood chilling humorless laugh that made even Locasta's now smug grin drop completely.
"You want to avoid having someone killed, oh how very kind of you. Whatever, I don't care, just get to the actual order, and make it fast, I'm almost sick of talking to you. Your stupid charm is getting really annoying." she said, her eyes boring into Locasta. Locasta seemed to squirm upon realizing Moira knew what she was up to with that aura of hers.
"Fine. I wish for you to find and kill Lady Galinda Upland, Ruler of Oz. But not right away, I'll return to you in about a fortnight. If I haven't handled her myself by then, than I'll leave the rest to you. Understand?" Locasta said. Moira sat stunned. The ruler of Oz? She had to kill Glinda, of all people? She hadn't known anyone in her long travels who'd ever spoken ill of Glinda. If people didn't love her, they at least respected her, and that was extremely rare in a ruler.
"What? Why would you want her dead, everyone loves her!" Moira said, her hurriedly constructed mask starting to crumble again. She fought to keep the conflicting emotions under control. It was Locasta's turn to laugh now, and her's was much more frightening then Moira's had been.
"Maybe the rest of Oz is deluded by her, 'I'm just so good!' routine, but I know the real her. I know how she can betray people without even trying. And she deserves to die! She… She…." but Locasta trailed off, apparently trying to fight back her own emotions. Moira stared at the woman in front of her, and for an instant she thought she saw the ice blue eyes flash a rich brown, but she never could tell because as soon as it was there it was gone again. Locasta inhaled a rough breath and stood.
"We have nothing more to talk of. Your orders stand, you will kill Glinda Upland in a fortnight unless I tell you otherwise. Good day, Moira." Locasta said coldly. As she turned to walk out the aura that had seemed to have gone cold began to reconstruct itself around Locasta, and the warmth again threatened to take over Moira, but then Locasta was out the door, stepping over an unconscious guard, and gone. Moira watched the door close, and sat shuddering, as the painful tendrils of the curse began to clutch at her heart, muscles, and brain. Burning white hot stabs rocked through her as she tried to resist, but little by little the tattooed mark on her back began to glow a horrible white until the entire thing was shining through the back of her black shirt. She blacked out just before the last tendril turned white.
I'm actually planning to draw out that tattoo sometime, so if you want to see it I'll post a link to a picture on my profile when I finish it. And when I finish it I'll tell you so. Anyways, dun dun dun, and stuff. If you don't know who Locasta is by now, I'm doing a lot btetter then I thought at conceling it while still dropping hints. But it should be fairly obvious by now. Anyways, thanks for reading this if you are :D
Reviews make my day.