AN: I thought Nessa's shoes turned red from Elphaba's spell? Meep... well, I'm not mentioning the colour again, so I'll leave it for now.
This chapter also contains spoilers.
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"Alone and loveless here, just the girl in the mirror..."
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The shoes squeeze tighter and tighter as Nessa frantically tries to pull them off. She can feel the pressure on the very bones of her feet. Tiny fingers of pain shoot up her legs from the force on her ankles.
Finally, with a low moan, Nessa gives in to the pain and presses her hands over her face, trying to ride it out. Strangely enough, the moment she stops struggling to get the shoes off, they stop squeezing. Nessa lies on her back in the grass, her breathing ragged, her feet throbbing. She closes her eyes, dizzy with the aftermath of panic. Minutes pass, then half an hour, as she wills her feet to stop hurting, her heart to slow down, her breathing to even out.
"Okay." She pants, staring at the sky. "I can't take off my shoes." The sheer absurdity of the sentence makes her giggle, and she can feel a small, bright bubble of hysteria forming in her chest. She gives herself over to helpless laughter for a moment, her emotions playing havoc with her body as she realizes her escape from a dire situation. Finally, gradually, her calm composure returns and she climbs shakily to her feet. She limps carefully back down the garden path to the house, her feet protesting each step with sharp needles of pain.
Ignoring curious looks from the servants, Nessa limps to her bedroom, and into the adjoining bath. As she turns her gaze on the wall mirror, she has to bite her lip to keep from breaking out into giggles again. Her face is flushed and sweaty, with tear stains running down her cheeks. Her hair is coming loose from its elegant bun, and here and there are pieces of grass, green threads in her dark hair.
Nessa runs warm water into the sink and begins to wash her face. The soft washcloth is soothing, and does much to calm her down. Drying herself, she pulls the pins from her hair and picks up her hairbrush. As she raises the brush to her hair, however, realization falls like a stone into her stomach.
Boq was always the one who brushed her hair.
Suddenly feeling heavier, Nessa backs up from the mirror and sits in the chair in the corner of the room. When she couldn't do things for herself, she could always count on Boq to be at her side, willingly or not. Now that she is independant, she is alone.
Nessa stands, and moves into the bedroom, still holding the brush. Her footsteps echo through the big empty room, and she thinks of the big, empty house full of servants who didn't talk to her and memories of everyone who had gone and left her... Boq, Elphaba, her father.
Nessa throws herself face down on the bed, like an adolescent, and cries.
She is alone. Horribly, frighteningly, brutally alone.
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The image will burn behind Glinda's eyelids for a long time to come. Fiyero and Elphaba. Together. She can still feel the muzzle of his gun poking her in the back. His gun! Fiyero had held a gun to her back. The thoughts jumble up in her mind, she can't even begin to sort out what had happened. One moment she is at the middle of a wonderful social circle, engaged to the captain of the guard, and the next moment he runs off... with Elphaba.
The feelings inside her froth and pitch. She leans against the wall, trying to sort out her mind. Maybe she can return to the party. A corner of her awareness records Madame Morrible and the Wizard conversing in hushed tones. About how to catch Elphaba. Her friend, who had first stolen herself away, and now she has stolen Fiyero away, too. The two most important people in Glinda's world, though she may rarely show it.
A hint of anger rises out of the jumbled mix of emotions in her chest, quickening her breathing. She has to find where Elphaba is hiding. If she can find Elphaba, she can find Fiyero. She can talk some sense into that brainless head of his. How deeply will Elphaba hide away? So deeply that no one will know where to find her? Glinda knows of one person that Elphaba would not be able to bear leaving without company.
"How can we force her to show herself?" The Wizard's voice seems to float over to Glinda from a great distance. The anger pulls itself back into the tight ball in her chest, and a numb feeling settles over her.
"Her sister." Glinda hardly feels the words that are coming from her mouth. Dimly, she is aware of the Wizard and Madame Morrible, silent now, their greedy eyes boring into her.
"Use her sister. Spread a rumor. Make her think her sister is in trouble. Then she'll fly to her side, and you'll have her." The throne room seems dark and forbidding. Glinda feels like the words are coming from somewhere else. The Wizard and Morrible start conversing again, and Glinda, attempting a gracious wave, steps away from the wall.
"Now your Ozness, if you'll excuse me, I have a slight headache. I think I'll lie down." She says to the pair as she exits, but it is not her head that aches.
It is her whole being.
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AN: I do not own Wicked, Boq, or Nessa. I'm really liking this chance to explore her character, though. :-)
I just had to revisit Glinda for a bit in this chapter. -sigh- I miss her!
Thank you for your feedback and reviews! They are greatly appreciated.
Thanks for reading,
Love,
B