Rifiuto: Non Miriena
A/N: Written: 2012. Rewritten: 2014. Found: 2018.- Licia
Her eyes widened in shock.
The word was clumsy; it was obvious the girl had no true grasp of the language, but she was trying.
And it was followed by a second word, said just as clumsily, just as hesitantly.
"M... Mama."
But no less poignant or heartbreaking.
Fresh tears filled Melena's eyes, coursing down her cheeks faster than before, and she pulled away from the girl, burying her face in her hands as she doubled over in heartbreaking sobs. Footsteps were soon heard in the hall, and the door swung open quickly. Long hair pulled back in braids that swung against her neck and back as she hurried into the room, Nessa stopped, startled to see her mother in sobs on the hope chest, her sister sitting beside her, as bare as the day she'd been born into the world. "Mama? What's wrong? Mama!"
After several minutes, Melena looked up at her youngest; Shell stood behind his sister, black mop of hair a mess, worry in his eyes as their mother shook her head. Nessa, unable to fully comprehend the scene before her, glanced at her brother, before calling out, "Papa! Papa!"
Two more pairs of footsteps were soon heard before Frex and Tibbett appeared behind Shell and Nessa. "Nessarose? What is it, what's wrong?"
But the teenager simply shook her head, turning back to her mother and sister. Elphaba, perhaps ignoring the others, perhaps unaware of their presence, focused only on Melena; she reached up, brushing a thumb against the woman's cheek, once more clumsily choking out, "H... hu...sh... m... m... Mam...a..."
"Did... did she just..." Shell choked out, as his sister turned to meet his gaze, shrugging. "E... El... she... she knows our... our language... she spoke, right?" The boy's voice cracked, but none of them noticed. Tears sprang to Nessa's eyes, and Tibbett released a soft sigh as Frex gently rested a hand on his son's shoulder.
"I don't know, Shell." Frex whispered softly, even as Tibbett spoke, gaze never leaving Elphaba or Melena.
"She recognizes the pain in your wife's eyes, in her heart, Mr. Thropp. She recognizes it, because it is the same pain she bears, now being apart from her children and husband."
"This... this is good, right?" Shell asked, turning to the interpreter. "This... this means she'll... she'll come back to us? Elia will come back now that she can speak our language, won't she? She'll no longer be a savage."
Tibbett's gaze darkened for the briefest of moments. "What you call savage, we call peaceful. Your people are more savage than the Arjiki will ever consider becoming. Just because she has spoken your language does not mean she will become white again. Arjiki is in her very soul. It will not be killed that easily." The boy swallowed thickly, turning back to his mother and older sister.
Nessa meanwhile, watched in silence, as her mother allowed her older sister to gently brush the tears away. Had it truly been Mama's pain, her breaking heart, that had brought about Elphaba's clumsily spoken first words? Was what Tibbett said true, that she recognized the pain in Mama's heart because it mirrored the pain in her own- that of having been torn from her children? Or was it something else? Was she slowly starting to remember her life before her abduction, before she became a... a savage princess, before she bore savage children?
No, not savage. Love. A child is not savage, no matter what seed it comes from or what egg resides within its mother's womb. A child is only made from love, only and always love. She is in love... Tears slid down Nessa's cheeks as she hurriedly fled from the room, down the stairs and out of the house, into the wheat fields, her realization from earlier coming back to her full force now. Elia is in love, with a savage prince, an Indian. And her children... they were made from love. She lay with that Indian out of love, not force. She was not forced, she did so willingly. She lay and let him take her with love, and he... he...
She stumbled, skidding on her hands and knees among the wheat, before wrapping her arms around herself. An ache pulsed within her, a desire to be touched and loved as her sister had, to lay with a man like her sister had, and feel... feel what, exactly? Desire? Completion? Absolute ecstasy? To feel a man firm and thick within her most secret of places, as her sister had, with the man she called her husband?
You're seventeen, what do you know or understand of desires of the flesh? Of the secret moments between a man and woman? Those that are stolen in the night, beneath heated glances and frantic touches? Nothing. You know nothing of such things, and yet, you desire them as much as your sister did! You're a child, as innocent and pure as the winter snows, and yet you desire to experience what she experienced- the tantalizing brushes of a man's firmness between your thighs, of his mouth on your skin, his hands in your hair, the weight of him covering you as it once covered her, the thickness of him inside your most forbidden of places- is that what you desire? To be taken by a savage, like your sister was? To... to make love... with a savage who knows not what love is?
She shook head, covering her ears with her hands, as thought it would block out the voice in her head. "No!"
Yes! Yes, I desire it! I do! I want to experience what she did! I want to lay with a savage like she did! Be desired like she was! I want it, so very, very much-
But the part of her that had been raised in the faith, the part of her that had sat in the small church in Nest Hardings for the last seven years and listened to Pastor Yackle preach against the sins of fornication and desire, roared louder than the small, traitorous voice in her heart. You lie! You bear the sin of false witness, before the Unnamed God Himself! Do you truly believe you will allowed entrance into the world after for such traitorous, vile thoughts? You are a mere child, who knows nothing of the ways of the world, or the sins your sister has wallowed in by laying with a dirty, disgusting savage! The bastard savages she has born, created from her deepest sins-
"No! A child is made from love! Not sin! Love!"
And you wish to follow in her footsteps! To lay with a savage and bear his children! You vile, filthy little girl! No respectable man would take you for a wife if he knew of the sins you wish to commit-
A gentle hand on her shoulder caused her to jump. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked up, to see Tibbett kneeling beside her. It was evident to him, the turmoil swirling in the young girl's heart and mind was more than just because of her sister's return. It ran much, much deeper than perhaps she herself even knew.
"T... Tibbett." She grabbed his wrist, her grip tightening with every frantic breath.
Or, perhaps she did know.
"Something eats at your heart and mind, your very soul, young Nessarose. The Great Mother herself can sense it in you."
He moved to stand and help her too her feet, but she tugged on his wrist, forcing him to return to kneeling beside her. "Please. Tell me."
"What do you wish to hear?"
She took a breath, tongue darting out to wet her lips as her heart continued to pound and her thoughts warred within her mind. "How do I find the Arjiki?"