Lurlinemas was stupid, really. For who wanted to celebrate Lurline, the late Queen of the Fairies? All she had been was a traitor, anyways; leaving Princess Ozma all alone to go off and rule with King Pastoria. And look what happened to Ozma.
So what was a better way to 'celebrate' than to kill a traitor? It was a celebration in Elphaba's mind.
Elphaba clutched her cloak closer to her body. She wasn't really all that cold, but her apprehension and the fear of her upcoming duty caused a cold chill to run down her spine. Her hand slipped between her cloak and her fingers ran over the handle of her knife. She took a long, deep breath of the icy air. She felt sick.
It wasn't like the green woman to feel so nervous. She hadn't felt so nervous since that first night with Fiyero….Fiyero. She hoped Fiyero was alright. She hoped he had done what she had told him to do. Elphaba doubted it, though. Fiyero seemed determined in his ways to keep her safe, even though he would be the one to get hurt if he wasn't careful. She could take care of herself.
Her eyes darted around the icy streets, making sure that no one had noticed her, the 'slightly' off-colored woman. She didn't want to be an assailant, but she would do what she must to kill her target.
The building was nearing closer, she realized, her stomach and her heart dropping. The old theatre building loomed ahead, casting an eerie shadow over the street. Elphaba gulped; ever since she had joined the cause, under the assumed name of 'Fae', her work had been terrorism. She had never actually killed a person, however. She was too green, she would have been noticed. This, this Morrible notion had been one on her own accord. Elphaba was risking her life to get back at her manipulator, she knew.
Elphaba darted around into an alley next to the old theatre, laying low until Morrible arrived to meet her fate, her green fate.
When a carriage stopped in front of the theatre, Elphaba immediately knewit was the one she was waiting for. As Elphaba stared malevolently, Morrible stepped out in a swirl of behemoth skirts and a perfume of lilacs so strong, Elphaba could smell it from where she crouched. It was then, as Morrible's feet touched the icy roads of the Emerald City, that all of Elphaba's trepidation disintegrated.
She moved swiftly, her eyes never moving from Morrible's extravagantly body as she quickly drew her knife out of its satchel. It was then that something obstructed her vision. Not something; someone. Children to be specific.
"No!" Elphaba whispered, a pathetic attempt to make the children disappear, to melt into the background. She couldn't murder someone in cold-blood (even if she deserved it) in front of a bunch of schoolchildren! It didn't matter, though, she realized as the group of children massed into the streets, Morrible escaping into the theatre as they barricaded Elphaba's path.
She pushed her way the crowd that was beginning to form around her, turning back into the alley where she had been hiding. She had failed. She threw her knife at the iced brick wall, taking satisfaction in the dull clink it made as it connected with walk, and then the street.
She began to walk away, trying to look inconspicuous. She pulled the cloak's hood farther down over face, looking down at the ground. I'm a failure, that's all I am, and that's all I'll ever be.
Elphaba sucked in another shaky breath; the cold air contracting her lungs. "Damn it, Morrible. You will not always be safe from me, I'll get you one day," vowed Elphaba as she walked the complicated route from the location of her fruitless attempt at assassination to her (occasionally) lonely corn exchange.
"That's peculiar," Elphaba murmured as she neared the door to her 'home', which was slightly ajar. She smiled smugly despite herself; maybe Fiyero had broken in and was waiting for her inside. She hoped so, even though he would ofdisobeyed her. She needed him.
The green woman pressed her fingers lightly to the door, opening it a little farther, letting in the cold gray light. Why was it so dark? Elphaba reached her right hand out, trying to discern her way up the stairs. Waiting a few seconds, so her eyes could adjust to the musty darkness, she hoisted herself onto the first step. "Fiyero….?" She called into the darkness; hoping, wishing, waiting.
There was no answer. "Fine, be like that," she muttered under her breath. If Fiyero wanted to play like that, she would let him. But she was positive she would have her way by the end of the night.
At the top of the stairs, her breath caught in her throat. Malky, her white housecat, had been hung at by one of the rotting rafters, her eyes bulging out of her scull, her neck snapped in two. Elphaba put her hand to her mouth, holding back the urge to vomit. Her heart seemed to skip a beat when she saw a shadowed form laying on the other side of the room. "No…."
She ran to the heap, hoping that her paranoid beliefs were not true. They were. She threw herself atop of the nonmoving form of Fiyero Tiggular: her prince, her Winkie, her lover. "Fiyero," she cried. It was no use, he was already gone. Elphaba took his head in her hands, barely noticing the acidic tears as they ran down her face, "Fiyero, why? No..You can't be dead."
He was. Sobbing uncontrollably, and out of character, she slathered her wrists in his blood, and grabbed a knife from her table. Letting it gently hover above her wrists for moment, she pressed gently into her tender green flesh, causing her to whimper in pain as it brought a small flow of blood, mixing with Fiyero's.
A coruscation of lightning that illuminated Fiyero's paling body brought her out of her reverie. She couldn't kill herself, she realized. More streaks of lightning illuminated the sky as Elphaba watched in awe out the slanted window.
Elphaba gently kissed Fiyero's face and smoothed his soft dark hair out of his face, for this was to be his final resting place. "I'm sorry, Yero my hero," Elphaba whispered as she slipped out of her apartment and onto the street. Closing her eyes against the pain of the water and of her dully throbbing wrist, she walked down the sidewalk her head down. Her feet seemed to know where they were going, although her head and her heart did not.
"Lurlinemas is stupid," she whispered before collapsing, exhausted, in the arms of a maunt. Maybe this was to be her final resting place. She hoped it so.
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Li