Only a few short hours had passed before Elphaba's eyes snapped open, immediately taking on a look of suspicion. There were several things wrong with this picture. One, she was sleeping with her gravely ill lover. Two, something was just off, and she couldn't put her finger on it.
Suddenly feeling afraid for one of the few times in her life, Elphaba swiftly sat up, and took Fiyero's hand in her own. Pressing two fingers to his wrist, she closed her eyes in concentration as she felt for a pulse. And couldn't find one.
Cursing loudly, she bent over Fiyero, so her cheek was right over his lips. She didn't move until she felt his breath on her cheek. Thank Oz. She turned her head, and kissed him lightly on the lips, before getting off from the bed.
Now standing, her eyes narrowed to slits as she scanned the room to see what was off. Within seconds, her dark eyes spotted a scrunched up blanket in the corner of the room. She walked quickly over to the corner, picking it up as though it was rank.
It hadn't been here before, and judging from the blood on it, it had been brought in with Fiyero. The emerald woman would NOT risk a single thing when it came to saving her lover.
Setting the blanket on the balcony, Elphaba walked back over to her love, pulling the comforter up over his body and covering his mouth. The last thing she needed was for him to inhale any smoke.
Moving quickly back to the balcony, she pulled out a matchbox out of her skirts, something she had seen and swiped while on her way through the house. Striking it, a small flame instantly appeared. Elphaba let a grin appear on her face; she had always been entranced by fire.
But she dropped it. Directly on the blanket.
Instantly, a small flame appeared. She waited patiently, and it steadily began to grow. Too many conspirathy theories had jumped into her mind upon seeing the blanket for her to do anything less.
At least she knew she was insane. Crossed over that bridge long ago, by the looks of it.