They said Pride was the worst sin, but Elphaba disagreed. Envy was worse. Even if Pride created Envy, Envy was what caused bad things to happen. All anyone had to do was look at her life story. Not a day went by where it was not controlled by Envy.
Elphaba's father, jealous of anyone who outranked him in the clergy.
The Unnamed God that he worshipped, cited as a jealous god within his own Holy Book.
Elphaba's mother, jealous of the clergy for stealing her husband from her.
Elphaba's sister, jealous of anyone who had something that she did not.
Elphaba herself, jealous of those with happy and normal lives.
And in fact, both Elphaba and her sister had been born out of envy, born out of adultery.
And that was just Elphaba's childhood. The next major section in her life was spent at Shiz University.
Glinda and her girl gang, jealous of those with more power, status and influence.
Boq, jealous of anyone who managed to steal Glinda's much-coveted attention.
Fiyero, jealous of his fairer-skinned students and how easily they bonded with each other.
Avaric, likewise jealous of those with more wealth and luxury.
Dr. Dillamond, jealous of the human teachers who never had to suffer the type of discrimination he did.
Madam Morrible, jealous of anyone who could threaten her position or power.
Their country, itself, was nothing but Envy incarnate. Their primary color was green. Their capital was green. Their leader was green. His innermost circle was green. All the citizens who lived in that capital were green. All of them were built upon jealousy, even if they didn't know it. Whether Elphaba looked inward/at a mirror, or outward/at anyone else, it did not matter. All she saw was green.
And even in a place as far away as the Vinkus, the green remained.
Sarima, jealous of Elphaba's past affair with Fiyero.
Sarima's sisters, jealous of both Elphaba and Sarima.
The children, jealous that they were not yet adults, and that their father had been taken from them.
And Elphaba, again, jealous of all of them, that they should seem so content with their lives while she did nothing but suffer.
"I would simply like some peace," Elphaba told Sarima one night. Although the two were still very much at odds, spending so many years under the same roof meant that their unadulterated loathing was bound to at least decrease eventually.
"I don't think such a thing exists," Sarima replied dryly. For once, she was not trying to be Elphaba's anthesis by remaining impossibly optimistic. For once, a flash of real cynicism came through and she seemed to take a sadistic pleasure in watching Elphaba's shoulders slump.
Elphaba, herself, held the same belief that peace did not exist (at least not anymore than the concept of sin, or the Unnamed God), but to hear even Sarima agree was disheartening.
"But must even a home be so full of venom, hatred, animosity and resentment?" the green witch demanded unhappily.
"Well, that's exactly what makes it a home," Sarima replied. "There is no place like it. No place so terrible and yet so wonderful. No place that could cause so much pain and yet still keep its inhabitants always coming back for more."
And for once, Elphaba had to agree with her. There really was no place in all of Oz quite like a home. No place so strange, complex and paradoxical. No place so contradictory and complicated. After all, like Sarima had said, no other place could inflict so much pain and yet still keep its inhabitants there. No place could be so full of both love and hatred, sometimes even at the same time. No place could hold so much emotion, memory, connection or power. No place in all of Oz, except a home. No place could attract and repel with such intensity. No place managed to feel so safe, universal and familiar, yet also so distant, isolated and impossible to comprehend.
It reminded the pair of an old quote they'd once heard. Although they no longer remembered the speaker, they remembered the words: "Maybe the definition of home is the place where you are never forgiven, so you may always belong there, bound by guilt. And maybe the cost of belonging is worth it."
"I think it is worth it," Sarima said at last. "If true happiness does not truly exist, then this is the next best thing. We stay because we are bound by hatred and guilt just as much as we are by joy and acceptance. Or, we are simply bound by the strongest of emotions, all of which are typically negative. After all, why else would so many of us find the past so hard to forget, even if it was an unpleasant one? And perhaps the very act of feeling guilty is proof enough that the place must have meaning to you, or else you would not have any guilt to begin with. If forgiveness is freedom, you are not bound by anything. It is quite a lonely existence. At least guilt gives you a reason to stay…"
The conversation ended there, Elphaba having no desire to continue it further. The pair spent the rest of the evening in silence until Sarima finally went up to bed. Elphaba remained in the parlor, alone, for about an hour more. She was jealous of Sarima. Sometimes, there were moments when they behaved so similarly. But that only served to worsen Elphaba's feelings for Sarima. It was like insult to injury. On top of disliking the woman, she also felt subservient to her, not just because of her debt, but because Sarima seemed like a slightly more adjusted version of her.
"And yet, why I can't I have her life as well as her home?" Elphaba sighed tiredly. "To spend my life under the same roof, but in an entirely different world. Always on the outside, looking in. Even if her life is far from perfect, it's closer than mine. She has sisters and children. I have no one. She has moments where she does truly belong. But do I? Or am I bound to only ever be a side character in someone else's story? But perhaps I deserve it. I took someone else's life, so it is only fair that I lose mine in return. God himself could not have crafted a finer punishment."
But at last, Elphaba followed in Sarima's footsteps and went to bed. The quote still rung in her head.
"Hmmm. Maybe to some, the cost of belonging is worth it, but not to me," she grumbled. "I am tired of feeling guilty and jealous. I am tired of being unforgiven and bound. I want to be forgiven so that I can fly free again. I hate it here."
But that was exactly what made this place a home. Only Kiamo Ko could evoke such strong feelings from the green witch. So in a way, she was proving the quote correct. Even if she was tired of being guilty and unforgiven, it was out of her hands and she was still a resident of the castle. Bound in body and "soul", this place was her home, meant to act as both punishment and reward. And that was exactly what made it a home and that was exactly why there was no place (in or out of Oz) like it.
AN: Random drabble I spontaneously wrote in like half an hour because I love that quote so much.