~Chapter 2~
About a week or so later, the burns on my arms were still smarting some, but most all other pain had dissipated. I was moving around on my own again and deeply immersed in the pages of the Grimmerie. The spell I was poring over was very advanced magic, something that I would never have dreamed of attempting the day before my encounter with Dorothy Gale.
As I read, thoughts of why she was dispatched to kill me in the first place swam to the front of my mind. It was the Wizard who was the brains behind Dorothy Gale. If it wasn't for the Wizard I could've been spared many long years of pain and heartbreak many times over. He was responsible for the deaths of huge numbers of Quadlings shortly after I was born; Madam Morrible's attempts to manipulate me, Glinda and Nessarose back at Crage Hall in Shiz; the murders of Doctor Dillamond, my mentor and friend, and Fiyero, my lover; the laws causing the Animals to lose their rights; the murders of Sarima and her family, and so many more. I didn't just want simple revenge anymore; I wanted the Wizard dead.
I unconsciously reached my hand to the windowsill to stroke the fur of my pet monkey, Chistery, but it met only air and cold stone. I supposed with a heavy heart that Dorothy and her traveling companions had either killed him or scared him away, and if he was alive the first person to see him would probably kill him.
:Every living creature that has the misfortune to come into my life is ultimately destroyed!: I mentally shouted, pinning the blame on the Wizard. I could only wonder what my life would've been like if he hadn't chosen me to torture for my differences. Just the thought that without the Wizard I could've lived my life in some semblance of happiness instead of eternal heartbreak made me smolder with hate and rage not only for what he had done to me but to everyone and everything I've ever loved. Was I really so harmful to Oz that I was to be considered too dangerous to live? I thought back to the numerous times I had asked myself that after Fiyero's death, and contemplated just giving them what they wanted by putting myself out of my misery. I'll admit that there were many times when it would've been so much easier just to slit my wrists and join those that had been taken from me, but every time I picked up the knife I lost my nerve.
:If only I had been braver I could've saved myself so much unnecessary agony. . . :
But no. I was alive for a reason, and I was determined to fulfill what my life had been mapped to do, however pivotal or insignificant it may be. I had a sinking feeling that I was to be pivotal in one way or another, and gods help whoever I was up against, be I faithless or not.
After a while longer of unsuccessfully trying to make head or tale of the spell, I began to stare unseeing at the Grimmerie, its glimmering pages gazing back up at me, my frustration building.
:Glinda would've been able to do this. If only . . . : But of course that would never happen. She was too loftily placed on the social ladder being the "good witch" and was too high in favor with the Wizard. Even if she would consider to consent to forgive me for everything I've done in the years since we were close to each other she would never agree to help me with this particular endeavor. Murder was never her cup of tea, so to speak, even if the death would in the end improve Oz and fix whatever damage the Wizard had caused that was still salvageable. She was never the brave one, my old friend, if I could even call Glinda "friend" anymore. We had taken such vastly different paths from each other and our lives had progressed so differently that the rift that had grown between us was more than likely impossible to bridge.
:In a twisted little way, I miss her. The old Glinda, anyway. The girl she was after Doctor Dillamond's death, not the materialistic airhead she was in the beginning of our Crage Hall days.: I laughed a little. I wondered how life turned out for her. Was she happy with the way her life had progressed? Had she married and had children?
:Does she miss me at all?:
I shook my head, a bitter little smile on my face.
:Why would she miss me, after all I've done? She's probably forgotten how close we were all those years ago. I can't blame her. I'm someone most people would rather forget. Even so, she's kind of helped to make me who I am today with all she did for me so long ago. We stuck up for and believed in each other, if nothing else. At one point in time we were united against the Wizard. Now I've got to go it alone.:
I shuddered at the memory of our first encounter with the Wizard. I had lost it in his audience chamber when he was speaking to us, I had shouted at him in my recklessness and ridiculed the way he ran Oz, and in doing so it was probably the sealing of my fate.
:Elphaba, you bring these things upon yourself. The Wizard would have left you alone if you didn't make him believe you were a threat! You, headstrong, idealistic idiot!: I shouted at myself. Even so, I really didn't care at the time. I was single-mindedly set on getting my vengeance one way or another, even if that meant attempting a spell that, were I in my right mind, I would never have dreamed of performing. Suddenly the old, dog-eared page of the Grimmerie with the nearly-incomprehensible curse written on it began to make a little more sense to me. I scribbled what little I could make out into terms I understood and little by little, it began to come together. I hissed as I put too much strain on my still-healing arms by writing so furiously, and swore colorfully at Dorothy Gale and her treacherous Wizardly counterpart for reducing me to such a level of existence.
About a week or so later, the burns on my arms were still smarting some, but most all other pain had dissipated. I was moving around on my own again and deeply immersed in the pages of the Grimmerie. The spell I was poring over was very advanced magic, something that I would never have dreamed of attempting the day before my encounter with Dorothy Gale.
As I read, thoughts of why she was dispatched to kill me in the first place swam to the front of my mind. It was the Wizard who was the brains behind Dorothy Gale. If it wasn't for the Wizard I could've been spared many long years of pain and heartbreak many times over. He was responsible for the deaths of huge numbers of Quadlings shortly after I was born; Madam Morrible's attempts to manipulate me, Glinda and Nessarose back at Crage Hall in Shiz; the murders of Doctor Dillamond, my mentor and friend, and Fiyero, my lover; the laws causing the Animals to lose their rights; the murders of Sarima and her family, and so many more. I didn't just want simple revenge anymore; I wanted the Wizard dead.
I unconsciously reached my hand to the windowsill to stroke the fur of my pet monkey, Chistery, but it met only air and cold stone. I supposed with a heavy heart that Dorothy and her traveling companions had either killed him or scared him away, and if he was alive the first person to see him would probably kill him.
:Every living creature that has the misfortune to come into my life is ultimately destroyed!: I mentally shouted, pinning the blame on the Wizard. I could only wonder what my life would've been like if he hadn't chosen me to torture for my differences. Just the thought that without the Wizard I could've lived my life in some semblance of happiness instead of eternal heartbreak made me smolder with hate and rage not only for what he had done to me but to everyone and everything I've ever loved. Was I really so harmful to Oz that I was to be considered too dangerous to live? I thought back to the numerous times I had asked myself that after Fiyero's death, and contemplated just giving them what they wanted by putting myself out of my misery. I'll admit that there were many times when it would've been so much easier just to slit my wrists and join those that had been taken from me, but every time I picked up the knife I lost my nerve.
:If only I had been braver I could've saved myself so much unnecessary agony. . . :
But no. I was alive for a reason, and I was determined to fulfill what my life had been mapped to do, however pivotal or insignificant it may be. I had a sinking feeling that I was to be pivotal in one way or another, and gods help whoever I was up against, be I faithless or not.
After a while longer of unsuccessfully trying to make head or tale of the spell, I began to stare unseeing at the Grimmerie, its glimmering pages gazing back up at me, my frustration building.
:Glinda would've been able to do this. If only . . . : But of course that would never happen. She was too loftily placed on the social ladder being the "good witch" and was too high in favor with the Wizard. Even if she would consider to consent to forgive me for everything I've done in the years since we were close to each other she would never agree to help me with this particular endeavor. Murder was never her cup of tea, so to speak, even if the death would in the end improve Oz and fix whatever damage the Wizard had caused that was still salvageable. She was never the brave one, my old friend, if I could even call Glinda "friend" anymore. We had taken such vastly different paths from each other and our lives had progressed so differently that the rift that had grown between us was more than likely impossible to bridge.
:In a twisted little way, I miss her. The old Glinda, anyway. The girl she was after Doctor Dillamond's death, not the materialistic airhead she was in the beginning of our Crage Hall days.: I laughed a little. I wondered how life turned out for her. Was she happy with the way her life had progressed? Had she married and had children?
:Does she miss me at all?:
I shook my head, a bitter little smile on my face.
:Why would she miss me, after all I've done? She's probably forgotten how close we were all those years ago. I can't blame her. I'm someone most people would rather forget. Even so, she's kind of helped to make me who I am today with all she did for me so long ago. We stuck up for and believed in each other, if nothing else. At one point in time we were united against the Wizard. Now I've got to go it alone.:
I shuddered at the memory of our first encounter with the Wizard. I had lost it in his audience chamber when he was speaking to us, I had shouted at him in my recklessness and ridiculed the way he ran Oz, and in doing so it was probably the sealing of my fate.
:Elphaba, you bring these things upon yourself. The Wizard would have left you alone if you didn't make him believe you were a threat! You, headstrong, idealistic idiot!: I shouted at myself. Even so, I really didn't care at the time. I was single-mindedly set on getting my vengeance one way or another, even if that meant attempting a spell that, were I in my right mind, I would never have dreamed of performing. Suddenly the old, dog-eared page of the Grimmerie with the nearly-incomprehensible curse written on it began to make a little more sense to me. I scribbled what little I could make out into terms I understood and little by little, it began to come together. I hissed as I put too much strain on my still-healing arms by writing so furiously, and swore colorfully at Dorothy Gale and her treacherous Wizardly counterpart for reducing me to such a level of existence.