Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Written: 2012. Rewritten: 2014. Found: 2018.- Licia

Melena had pulled Elphaba asked that morning after breakfast, determined to help her relearn their language; Papa had slipped out of the house to work in the fields, and Shell sat watching his oldest sister and mother, leaving Nessa to her own devices. She took this opportunity to follow Tibbett out onto the porch; the young translator sat on the step, watching the wheat sway gently in the morning breeze. "She doesn't look good."

Without preamble, the teenager gathered her skirt around her as she took a seat beside him. He sipped silently from the cup of coffee Melena had poured that morning, not necessarily refusing the acknowledge the teen, but hoping she would take the hint that he was not only older, but not interested, and scram. Nessa did neither. "What happened to her?"

Silence, before he couldn't take it any longer.

"She walked between the worlds last night."

Nessa furrowed a brow. "What? What does that mean?"

Tibbett set the cup down on the step below them, meeting her gaze briefly. "Old shaman ritual, to contact loved ones. She was trying to contact her husband."

"Did she find him?"

He nodded briefly. "Not whom she was expecting."

Nessa's brow deepened. "What does that mean?"

Tibbett glanced at the girl, unsure of what to say. Elphaba had not been the only one to walk between worlds last night. The young princess seemed to possess a natural gift for walking, as they called it- the ability to move between the worlds of the past, present and future- and, if the haunted look in her eye was anything to go by, she had walked not within the present or past as one would expect, but had found herself caught within a moment of the future, and it had terrified her. If not terrified her, then shaken her badly. As badly as his experience had shaken him.

The young translator had awoken about the same time Elphaba had, the smell of a cooking fire strong within his nose, but not alone. Copper had also awoken him; the smell was so strong, he feared he'd bitten clean through his tongue and that had caused the smell, but had soon found that wasn't the case. Flashes of bloody hands and legs assaulted his vision, an echoing scream filled his ears- one of pain, of fear; animalistic and primal and strong. A flash of skin, milky white and taut, and smooth in its rounded form, a sun dawning over parted legs, over a soft patch of curls that sat just below, nearly hidden by the growth.

"Tibbett?"

Her soft voice jarred him, and he cleared his throat, bring the cup to his lips to avoid speaking or even looking at the teenage girl.

Long dark hair, pulled back in thick braids, that smelled of sunshine and honey. The sound of something ripping assaulted his ears, and winced slightly, trying to shrug it off as a chill from the breeze. The obvious sound of liquid dripping into the dirt, followed by another scream, louder, stronger. Nails dug into skin, a body arched and slowly, something began to appear.

Slowly, Nessa reached out, gently, cautiously, sliding her hand down his arm and over his wrist, before moving to tuck her fingers within his. She scooted closer slightly, until her hip brushed lightly against his.

"Tibbett? What is it?"

A push, another scream; a head, now rested between parted legs. Heavy breathing, a whimper that morphed into a cry that rose into a scream. Copper was strong within the air, the colour red bright and jarring against soft, milky white thighs. Another scream, a grunt, but nothing for several minutes. Another scream, this one more akin to a plea, followed by another push. He glanced down at Nessa as she gently squeezed their joined hands.

"What's wrong? Tibbett? What is it? Please?"

Strong arms, helping to keep the woman steady, for clearly she was having a difficult time. A kiss, a whispered vow, another scream. The white chord that connected mother and child appearing, with slight appearance of the babe, for it was evident the woman was in the throes of childbirth. Thick, long braids brushed off shoulders, away from sensitive breasts, familiar braids.

Nessa, now fully worried about the man, squeezed his hand harder, in attempt to get him to talk to her. But he set the cup down and got up, hastily breaking the contact with her. "Tibbett?" She watched as he strode down the steps and out into the wheat, ignoring her. "Tibbett!"

The young translator ran a hand through his hair, certain that what he had gotten glimpses of had been the future- not the same one Elphaba had walked within, but one involving her no less. One he could not discern to be good or bad, for the glimpses had been fast, quick film cuts unlike any he'd ever witnessed before. Though it was evident that in this future the young woman in question was in the throes of childbirth, but there was no glimpse of her husband, other than strong hands on her shoulders, supporting her, no voice heard. Whether it meant that Elphaba returned to the tribe or not, he couldn't say. But he knew that these were not glimpses of a white birth- the whites were notorious for trying to control a woman's body, even up until the moment a child burst forth into the world; they viewed the mother has having no real part in the process- something so foreign a concept than that of the tribes, who viewed all women as the bearers of the earth, the ones who kept the lines going, for it was their bodies new life grew within, and from their most precious of places that new life was borne from.

"Tibbett!" He turned as Nessa hurried up to him, reaching out and taking his hand in hers, wrapping both her hands around the one she'd grabbed. Her eyes filled with worry, and she studied him briefly before asking, "What's the matter?"

The young man bit his lip. How did he possibly go about explaining that when he'd walked between the worlds, he'd witnessed a future far removed from the one here? That he did not foresee her staying in the white man's world, but returning to their tribe? How did he even begin to explain that he'd witnessed her older sister giving birth?