At Colwen Grounds
The day was balmy, as ever, at Colwen Grounds, and the extravagant gardens surrounding the Thropp Mansion were bursting with flowers that gleamed magenta, honey-colored, and scarlet. Elphaba, awash with sunlight, matched the emerald stems and looked as if she had been dug up from the earth. She walked with Nessarose along the marble path that curved through the topiaries, scanning the expanse of gaudy blooms. They reminded her somewhat of the lush yards around Crage Hall, in which her spoiled peers had flitted and socialized so many years ago. It unsettled her stomach, somewhat, to recall those girls–but she pushed aside the foggy memories to focus instead on the girl beside her.
Though Nessa had insisted she was now well-practiced at walking on her own in the glittering shoes, Elphaba–perhaps simply out of habit–kept a hand lightly on her sister's back, disguising the protective gesture as one of fondness. But Nessa was indeed so much more capable than she had been before. Her strides were confident, if careful, and in those shoes she looked as royal as any Ozma. Still, though, her balance was unnatural–it was difficult to tell when she was or wasn't steady, because she almost always looked ready to tip over. Her movements were flexuous and strange–but she was certainly walking on her own.
The two women had spent the past hour sharing tales of their adventures since parting at Shiz. Both had experienced more than they could possibly have recounted, even had they wanted to. The stories that were shared were the simple, acceptable skeletons of the truth, tailored for light conversation. Elphaba said simply that she had spent the last decade and a half making her living in the Emerald City, having spent some time in a mauntery due to illness, before moving west to explore the Vinkus and meet up with old friends. Nessa, meanwhile, said she had finished school, inherited the title of Eminent Thropp, and made a few important political decisions that had neatly severed Munchkinland—now a free state—from the rest of Oz. The meat of both stories was sliced off in an equally tidy way. Neither wished to tell, nor even really to hear, more than the basics.
The conversation dwindled after awhile, and now the only sounds in the garden were the wind through the maplefruit trees and the clicking of heels.
Elphaba's gaze fell from her sister's face to her glaring, dazzling footwear, and she watched transfixed as they carried Nessa across the marble. Her thoughts were eventually interrupted by her sister's precise, delicate voice.
"I still find it hard to believe, Elphie, that you lived with maunts," she said, with a light laugh. "You, who never claimed belief, or even a passing interest, in religion. Why a mauntery, of all places, to stay for so long?"
Elphaba shrugged faintly. "They were hospitable, doling out complimentary protection and medicine, " she said offhandedly. "I was sick and couldn't live on my own. Where else in the Emerald City could I have gone?"
"Well, you could have returned here, to Father and I," Nessa answered. "The fact that you chose a mauntery over your own family indicates there's still some hope for your soul." She smiled slightly, teasingly. "I maintain that there's a spark of faith hidden somewhere beneath that thick skin of yours, no matter how you protest."
"Yes, well, maintain that as long as you like. I don't expect you to ever relinquish that hope–you're just as stubborn as you claim I am." She teased her sister back, weakly. But arguing with Nessa, especially on religious topics, wearied her, and she was not looking to be exhausted so soon after arriving. She pursued another topic. "In the meantime, it seems you've crafted yourself a rather splendid garden. Well–I mean, I know you haven't tended it, per say, but your servants have. And they've done a good job of it. All the plants look...very healthy." She was no good at small talk. But she had effectively distracted Nessa, who was now gazing proudly at the blossoms.
"Agreed. It's always been lovely here in summertime, but I had the gardeners plant an even greater variety of flowers. It looks wilder that way—it makes the garden a more striking symbol of the Unnamed God's bounty."
Elphie nodded absentmindedly, pausing to examine a blood-red rose protruding from a bush on the side of the path. She plucked it, wincing slightly as a thorn bit unexpectedly into her skin, then tucked it gently behind Nessa's ear. The younger sister smiled, looking all the more radiant with the added decoration.
Elphaba rubbed her thumb against the tender spot on her finger, wiping away a dark drop of blood before it slithered down her skin. "You're aptly named, Nessie," she commented, nodding at the rose. "Nessarose. You are as pretty as that little flower." And equally inclined to attract things that buzz and sting, she thought. Like these restless Munchkinlanders.
Nessa smiled. "You are sweet to me, Elphie. But looks are not the only important thing, as we know. You're a fine example of that, with your ambition and your perseverance, et cetera." It was a sour compliment. Elphaba said nothing. She reflected bitterly, You're as pretty as a rose, dear sister, and you prick like one.
Elphie cleared her throat, nodding curtly. A strained silence hung between them. Left with nothing else to say, she found herself blurting out, "You know, Nessa, I'm a bit worried about you." She glanced over at her sister, who was gazing straight into the distance ahead–chin up, confident. Elphaba sighed. Now that she had begun, she would say to Nessa what Frex had said to her hours before–her own version of it.
Continuing, she said, "You're smart, Nessa, and strong, and have some impressive accomplishments. After all, you've led the separation of Munchkinland from the rest of Oz almost singlehan—ah, that is, on your own. And that's something." She looked once more at her sister, who nodded slowly in acceptance of the praise, before continuing. "And yet, I worry that you might...underestimate your subjects. Their ignorance, I mean, and their inability to grasp what is happening in Oz beyond the drought that keeps food off their tables. And I worry, Nessa, that they're looking for a scapegoat–and you know how that's likely to turn out." She paused. She was beginning to sound far too much like Frex. She conceded that his fears were, for the most part, justifiable: Nessa was setting herself up for trouble. But–and she glanced down once again at those brilliant shoes–Elphaba believed that her sister had finally been infused with the independence she required to handle this situation on her own. She could get herself out of the trouble she'd caused. Hadn't Elphaba dedicated enough of her life to keeping Nessa safe?
And yet, it still lingered, like the ache of chafed wrists after the shackles have been removed: that profound sense of eternal responsibility, pushing her on, urging her to finish the speech taken straight from her father's mouth. The woman next to her, no matter how full-grown and capable of independent strides, was still Nessie, the armless baby she'd held as a young girl. The one who had first given her a sense of purpose—a sense of humanity, even. That was how it had been in the beginning, when sisterly responsibility was a new and exciting idea. And now that responsibility remained.
"I am confident of my control of this state," replied Nessarose in her faintly haughty way. "Once I'd outlined the Wizard's opressive political agenda to the citizens of Munchkinland, they realized the urgency of the matter and voted unanimously to secede—there wasn't a single dissonant voice. They understand the situation, Elphaba. They only needed a little coaxing. They're not about to forget it all and bite the figurative hand that fed them." She seemed to believe it. But Elphie suspected the Munchkinlanders had indeed had a change of heart in the past months. Perhaps they thought that the iron fist with which Nessa ruled was as insubstantial as the flesh-and-blood ones she lacked.
Tiredly, Elphaba replied, "Truthfully, I don't have much evidence of widespread dissatisfaction; but I do get the feeling there's trouble ahead. Call it a hunch. A storm is brewing, I think, and sooner or later it could spiral out of control and rip apart everything you've worked so hard to build."
She looked up at her sister, finally, hoping for a hint of understanding. But she was met only with a smile, a maddeningly condescending one.
"Thank you, sister, for your advice. Promise I'll take care." Nessa leaned forward to kiss her sister's cheek, but Elphaba only let her hand drop from Nessa's back. She began to walk back towards the house.
"I'm getting tired, Nessarose. I think I'll lie down for awhile." Her frustration was intense, almost tangible—she could practically feel it bubbling beneath her own skin. It wasn't until she reached the door that she could glance back.
Nessa stood there, straight and tall, even without Elphaba's hand at her waist. The pretty girl smiled, calm and self-assured. "Rest up, Elphie—I've so much more to show you later." Her back was remarkably straight. Unnaturally straight. Her legs, unnaturally steady. The shoes glittered defiantly. Elphaba could hardly look away.