Incommunicable Emotions
Chapter six
"An Unexpected Arrival"
She escaped into the blessed cool night air, tearing her shoes off and running to the inn she and Elphie shared.
Glinda ran on, despite the white-hot stitch in her side, expelling her breath raggedly. She flung open the doors, racing up the stairs to the room and wrenching the door open.
Elphie sat on the bed, book in her hand, one eyebrow cocked nearly into her hairline. "I don't recall ordering any crazy this evening, perhaps you have the wrong room."
Glinda threw herself onto Elphie, sobbing into the scratchy material of her shirt. "It's...Morrible...she...ball...knew..." Glinda continued to gasp for breath.
"Slow down, my sweet, I daresay the words will still be there once you've breathed properly." Elphaba said soothingly, stroking Glinda's hair.
"Chuffrey! He found me, and took me to a ball, and Madame Morrible was there, and she looked like she KNEW, and I ran all the way here--"
Elphie's eyebrows shot up, and she shushed Glinda mid-ramble. "Morrible was at the ball? Would she have any way of knowing you would be there beforehand?"
"Yes, yes, there's always a list of guests posted, all you have to do is look. But, I swear she KNEW--"
With a splintery crack and groan, the thin door of their room burst open, and Grommetik wheeled in, lights sparkling.
Elphaba lurched up from the bed, panic-stricken. She seized a blocky lamp, the first thing she could get her hands on, and lunged forward.
Bits of machinery and glass flew as Elphaba brought the lamp on Grommetik again and again, until each and every tick and whirl had ceased. She stood there, gasping in lungful after lungful of dank inn air, hands shaking as they dropped the lamp.
------
Madame Morrible led Chuffrey to a secluded corner, smirk spreading on her pasty, doughy face.
"You know, Chuffrey, I'd expect a man of your intelligence to be able to see through dear Glinda."
Chuffrey's brow furrowed. "Whatever do you mean, Madame?"
Eyes rolling, Morrible replied. "I mean, her being unfaithful and all. With a WOMAN, no less. It's a shame, really. Such potential wasted on such a cry for help of a person."
His formerly furrowed brow darkened like a stormy sky. "And just whom are you referring to, Madame?" He spat the words out like bits of ice.
Morrible batted her eyelashes innocently. "Why, Elphaba Thropp, of course. The Wicked Witch of the West."
A/N: Okay, just to clear things up, in this version, Morrible never died. Obviously. That'd attract a little unwanted attention on her behalf...