The Dream
"Given a long enough time, of course, a wide enough frame, there is nothing said or done, ever, that isn't ironic in the end."
-Wicked, p.119
Firelight. Stretching up over the canopy of trees and past the rise of sinister mountains towering off in the distance.
There were bonfires spread apart in a wide clearing; each billowing a thick column of smoke that vanished up and into the clouds. They complemented the muted blue of the winter landscape in a brilliant blaze of reds and yellows, sparking and smoldering fiercely through the night. New-fallen snow blanketed the forest, softening the canvas of her dreaming.
She was standing at the outskirts of a glade, hidden between the bare and knotted branches of a low-hanging tree. Through tangled limbs, she could see the glow of the fires and the strange silhouettes that twisted and leaped before the roaring backdrop of flames. A lively tune carried over the assembly, woven on the strings of a player's violin. Galinda wasn't sure how she'd come to be here, or, more worryingly, where here even was. A cold wind rustled the silk of her nightdress, but her exposure to the elements seemed curiously irrelevant to her, so captivated she was by the light.
Without thought, she began walking towards the center of the clearing. Her feet sank through the snow with each and every step, leaving noticeable footprints in the wake of her path. It had occurred to her that the crowd might be unreceptive to strangers, or even pose a danger to her, but the night was cold, and the firelight was so beautiful and enticing.
She could see them now; the dancers who spun and laughed to the strange music. There were men and women of every shape and color; primitive, exotic, and otherworldly. Swirling silver paint decorated the curved topography of their naked bodies, and it caused them to shimmer and gleam in the firelight. She blushed as she watched them, hypnotized by the erotic manner in which they spun and moved; arching their backs and thrusting their arms towards the sky as if in primal supplication to the heavens. They made her feel childish and foreign, even as she timidly approached the wild celebration.
Someone grasped her hand. A young man suddenly appeared before her, fair of complexion, beautiful and robust.
"Have you come to join the dance?" he grinned.
Galinda was startled by his boldness. The light of the fire shone brilliantly off of his skin, making her feel inexplicably immodest. "I'm not sure what to do," she said, clasping the folds of her nightgown to her chest.
He laughed heartily at this, taking her other hand in his before swiftly pulling her close. "We don't move by design, my love... the music merely guides."
He lifted her up and twirled her around as the sounds of mirth and merriment continued. Galinda was stunned, and very close to mortified, even as she felt a thrill rush through her being lifted so high off the ground. The dancers moved and turned all about them, creating shapes and patterns in their display. Before Galinda realized what had happened, she was bowed and tipped into the arms of another. Rough hands from a dark-skinned nomad sought the delicate bend of her waist. The soft fingers of a red-lipped woman slid down the plane of her neck, causing Galinda to shiver. She felt dizzy... light-headed even. It became impossible to differentiate the faces and figures from one person to the next.
So when she caught sight of the creature that stood watching a far distance off in the woods, she wasn't entirely sure if it was real or a figment of her over-excited imagination. But the music slowed, as did the crowds, and the dark outline of the shadow-stranger still watched her with smoldering yellow eyes. Even when she moved between the revelers, its gaze never left her, and it was starting to make her nervous.
She was compelled to stop, to shift from the maddening caress of the dancers. The specter was closer now, but Galinda couldn't make out any distinguishable features. Only the eyes were visible; small stars that pierced her through the haze of smoke and flame. A couple passed before her, momentarily obstructing her view, and when she chanced to look again, the figure had vanished completely.
"Who was that?" said Galinda, turning briefly to a young girl behind her.
"Who do you mean?" the girl replied, her hand trailing suggestively down the back of Galinda's arm.
"I thought I saw someone in the distance," said Galinda nervously, her gaze fixed on the woods. "A shadow of something that kept to the dark."
"Beautiful creature, there is no one there. Unless, of course, you mean Her..."
Her?
She looked back over her shoulder, but the girl was no longer there. The party's games of wild flirtation continued, yet Galinda's thoughts were elsewhere. She felt compelled to seek it out, this apparition who dwelt in a maze of darkness. Where had it gone? Why was it watching her? Did it seek to hurt her, or to help?
Whatever the case, Galinda followed.
She slowly walked out of the clearing, finding a path that led up and into the woods. The sounds of celebration grew fainter, more muddled, as she strode through the columns of sycamore trees. A thick fog surfaced over the forest floor, pooling where the path would bend and diverge. Even the firelight grew dimmer as she wandered ever further, and the sharp sting of the cold pressed itself more keenly against her skin.
As she walked, it suddenly occurred to Galinda that the trees here were different somehow. Or maybe the air was thinner. It carried a fragrance that stirred something within her, like the jolt of feeling you experience when a fright takes hold of you; touching every nerve in your body. She had realized some time ago that she was no longer alone, but the soft footfalls behind her failed to jar her mind from its thoughts on such proverbial sensations. Wherever she had come from, or wherever she was going, this was a place that Galinda had seen before. This was a place she knew.
She stopped when she reached a small willow bent over the path in a loopy kind of arch. Her fingers reached out to caress the tips of its branches, and her eyes focused on the animal marks that twisted around its trunk.
"This place is familiar to me," she whispered, more to herself than the Other who followed.
"It should be," came the voice behind her, spoken as if it were carried on by the wind. "You have been here before."
She looked up at the sky, which was a cloudless midnight blue. Had she been here before? The place lingered on the edge of her memory, but the details were faint and indistinct- as if they had been painted over, or white-washed from her view.
Galinda turned around.
Standing before her was the crippled remains of an old woman. She was clad in tatty, moth-eaten skirts that looked as if they'd been clumsily sewn together. Her skin, which was a putrid yellow-grey, seemed to pucker and sag at the folds of her neck. Her cheeks were hollow, depressed into a jaw-line of broken teeth that imitated a skeletal grimace. Where her eyes had burned brightly before, they were nothing more than sockets now, sunken into the back of a head adorned with matted hair. The withered hands that clasped her shawl looked arthritic and useless, and her legs were bent at crooked angles. Galinda was awed by this picture of a living corpse, and felt her blood turn colder.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"A memory," the Woman replied. "But not necessarily yours." The hunched and cadaverous figure leaned over, and walked a few disjointed steps up the narrow trail. It was impossible for Galinda to see where her eyeless gaze was set, which unnerved her further still.
"It is almost time, I think," said the Woman, and the words came from somewhere besides her throat.
Galinda took a hesitant step towards her. "Time for what? What are you waiting for?"
"It's the Feast of Lurline this night, my curious, beautiful girl. The fools are out to celebrate until the Killing Moon waxes and wanes, and only blood will stay the floods as only blood ever does."
"Blood?" said Galinda, uneasy.
"A sacrifice," the Woman moaned. "It's why I'm here. I'm out to find it."
"But why am I here?" she asked fretfully. "Where is this place?"
The Woman's knobbed shoulders slumped forward, and the deep sockets in her head were inclined towards the ground. "Seems to me you're walking a path."
Galinda followed her sunken gaze beyond the arching willow and further into the shadows. Fear enveloped her, but so did curiosity.
"Where does it lead?"
"Depends," said the Woman. "Are you looking for the familiar, or are you looking for the unknown?"
"I'm... well. I'm looking for the truth." She had no idea what had prompted her to say that, much less what she had meant by it.
The Woman, however, seemed satisfied with this answer. She smiled at Galinda, though it looked to Galinda like she was merely gnashing her teeth together. "It's there, my lovely- waiting for you to find it. I think I should warn you, though, that the answer may not be to your liking." She uncurled a horned finger from her palm and pointed towards the darkness beyond the trees. "Truth is always a bit of both; a mixture of the Familiar and the Unknown. The greater question is, do you have the courage to seek it?"
Did she?
Galinda's fingers twisted into the folds of her gown. Would it be so awful to go further? To discover what lay hidden in the dark?
She took a step forward. Then another, and another.
The arching willow was above her, and then it was far behind. The trees became thicker as Galinda walked on, but with every step she took, it became evident that she knew full well where she was going. The memory unraveled like a spool of thread, taking her over snow-covered brush and through the sharp talons of trees. It was closer now, the feeling under her skin. She couldn't name it; couldn't even give shape to what it was. But she knew she had to keep walking, just as she knew the path was coming to an end.
A covering of mangled branches were all that stood before her when she reached the final bend. This was the place. It had happened here.
What had happened, or don't you remember?
Galinda raised a trembling hand up to the thorned curtain of branches, slowly pushing them aside.
There it was- the unspeakable dread. The remnants of an old Frottican wood mill; decrepit, abandoned, and rotted from years of neglect. The doorway was splintered, the roof was in shambles, and every open window was a dark, cavernous mouth that fed into a broken interior. It had been perfectly reassembled for her, piece by piece, even the small pink ribbon she had once tied to the rusty lock at the gate. Galinda had committed every detail to memory so many years ago, even if the last thing she remembered was watching it burn to the ground.
And now, here it stood, looming over her like a gaping nightmare; pressing, crushing, and accusing.
She took a step backwards, recoiling in horror.
"Are you afraid?" said the Woman, who stood suddenly behind her.
"I... I don't want to go in there," said Galinda, shaking her head and edging slowly backwards. "I won't go any further!"
A pair of gnarled hands clasped her by the arms, halting her retreating movement. "But you will, my dear. You will." The warm, fetid air of the Woman's breath singed Galinda's skin, and her palsied lips drew closer. "If you're searching for truth, you must open the door, and watch as history is rewritten."
"No!" Galinda pleaded, struggling to flee, to run. The mill seemed nearer now, full of black insinuations and the desperate, painful screams of a child. She couldn't escape them, nor could she escape the skeletal fingers that dug painfully into her flesh.
"Look," the Woman whispered. "It is only death..."
Galinda opened her eyes.
She could feel the soft weight of blankets on top of her, the shape of the pillow beneath her head. A cold sweat was covering her entire body, making the sheets cling uncomfortably to her skin. There was no light at all within the room. She was lying in total darkness. The frozen woods had vanished along with the horrid specter of the Woman and the mill.
A dream, then. It had all been just a dream. There were no pagan fires to taunt and tempt her; no endless forests suffused with memories and guilt. Galinda was in her bedroom, stretched out on her mattress, staring up into a black abyss. This was her room, she was sure of it.
So why did everything feel so hopelessly wrong?
She slowly sat up in bed. Her breathing was uneven, and her mind was racing. Even now she could feel the Woman's twisted fingers clawing into her, pushing her forward to face an impossible truth. She slid her hands up and down her arms, trying to dull the ache beneath her skin.
Galinda looked over to the other side of the room, hoping to find her roommate asleep in her bed. Shapes formed and reformed in her vision, but it was impossible to tell what was real and what was illusion.
"Elphaba?" she whispered. But Elphaba wasn't there.
Trembling, she reached out to the space where her nightstand was, searching for her candle and match box.
Thump...
Her fingers froze. The sound echoed through the darkness; a resounding thud that faintly jarred the door of the closet.
Galinda looked out past the foot of her bed, confused by what she'd heard. It had been impossible to tell if her eyes were playing tricks on her. Now she was starting to doubt her other senses as well.
Thump...
The door rattled again.
Someone was in the room.
Galinda pulled the blankets against her chest. She briefly entertained the possibility that Elphaba might have locked herself in the closet, however ridiculous that seemed. Then she remembered that the closet had no lock, no fixture that might have prevented an exit or entry.
"Galinda..."
Her heart stopped.
That was not Elphaba's voice. It was hardly a voice at all. Her name sounded like a whisper, child-like and remembered. Terror pulsed through her veins. She was surely losing her mind.
"Galinda..." it said again.
"No," she whispered, a pathetic refusal to the accusing darkness. This was a nightmare... just a horrible, sickening nightmare she was meant to keep reliving. She was five years old again, trapped in the mill in the woods. Trapped in there with him.
THUMP...
His small fist banged loudly on the door again. Galinda was white as a ghost. The thumping... the banging was becoming more frequent, more hurried, and more insistent. She covered her ears and closed her eyes, willing the sounds to stop.
This isnt real... she told herself. Wake yourself up, Galinda. WAKE YOURSELF UP.
The door was practically rattling off its hinges. The banging turned to screaming, and for the life of her, she couldnt drown it out. "GALINDA!" it yelled, a frightened and pleading moan that tore at her heart.
"No!" she sobbed, ready to tear her ears right out of her head.
A pair of hands clenched tightly around her wrists, and finally, she let out a scream.
"Galinda!" Elphaba hissed, pulling her near so that they were sitting face to face.
Galinda opened her eyes and stared, vaguely aware that it was Elphaba grasping a hold of her. The room was lighter now, bathed in moonlight that streamed through the nearby window. Her breath was harsh and ragged, and her heart continued to pound beneath her breast. How had the room changed so quickly? When had the noises stopped?
Her gaze swiftly shot over to the closet, now silent and dark. It had been left open an inch or two, revealing a vacant interior.
She looked back at Elphaba, who continued to regard her with something resembling alarm. Up close, her features were even more hawkish than usual, painted at various angles with the white light of the moon.
Galinda let out a deep breath, bowing her head to avoid her roommate's gaze.
"I'm..." she stammered. "I think I was-"
"Dreaming?" Elphaba finished for her, slowly letting go of her wrists. "I should say its a relief that I don't, then."
Mortification set in, and Galinda held a shaky hand to her temple. "There was just... I had heard something... I thought I was awake, and..." She noticed that Elphaba was dressed in her nightgown, and quickly looked over to her roommate's bed where the sheets and blankets lay in a crumpled heap. "When did- how long have you been here?"
Elphaba stared. "It's three in the morning, Galinda. You were asleep when I returned, and that was several hours ago."
Galinda was confused. The clock on her nightstand showed eight or nine minutes past the hour. It didn't seem possible. Nothing was making sense.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," she said quietly, talking more to herself than Elphaba. "I could have sworn..."
What? That you were listening to him die all over again? That he was actually here?
Elphaba waited for her to finish her thought, but Galinda wasn't sure what else she could say. She felt foolish, like a child frightened by their own shadow. Ama Clutch had clearly nettled her more than Galinda realized; even her dreams were haunting her, visiting dark places she longed to forget.
Exhaling slowly, she wiped at her eyes, still moist with tears. "I'm sorry, Elphaba," she said, feeling it more keenly than she had before.
"Well, I have grown used to you occasionally spouting nonsense in your sleep, but nothing that was quite so violent." They both winced as she said the last word, and purposefully avoided looking at each other. "What exactly where you dreaming of?"
"I..." Galinda hesitated. What was she to do- tell Elphaba the truth? That was unthinkable. "I don't remember."
Elphaba's eyes narrowed at her, but Galinda turned away. She leaned back on the bed again, pulling the covers close to her body while refusing to look at her roommate. She could feel Elphaba's gaze upon her, skeptical and mistrusting, but Elphaba made no reply. Her weight shifted off of Galinda's bed, and Galinda had to stop herself from pulling Elphaba back. However irrational it seemed, she feared that her roommate would disappear again- that Galinda would close her eyes and be lost in the darkness forever, never to wake up. Never to return.
A wool blanket was placed over the top of her. It was one of Elphaba's.
"You're not nearly warm enough, I can see it," Elphaba muttered. "We'll have to get more wood for the fire. Winter is coming early this year."
Galinda didnt reply. Her jaw was tightly clenched, and her pulse was racing.
She listened intently as Elphaba stalked back to her bed, quietly rearranging the covers on top of herself and slumping down without a 'good night.' The faint sounds of heavy breathing soon followed, indicating that Elphaba had almost instantly fallen asleep.
Galinda, however, did not sleep for the rest of the night. Curled beneath her covers, she looked out of the window, anxiously waiting for the coming dawn, and fearing she would never see it.
The grassy mounds near the suicide canal were packed with students, all enjoying the most of the weather before the heavy mists of autumn set in. It had been a stressful week for the entire school, students and faculty alike, so few things were as welcome as a laid-back Friday afternoon.
Galinda had abandoned Milla and Shenshen at the arts building an hour earlier where they'd gone to see a local exhibition. They'd reproached her for her sullen and disagreeable mood, so Galinda decided to tour the campus grounds instead, feeling too out-of-sorts to care if she had offended them. It didnt seem to matter to them that one of their professors was dead, or that Ama Clutch was terribly ill. There was a time for tears and grieving, certainly, but Galinda's depression was becoming "bothersome."
It had been several days since the nightmare she'd had, and consequently, several days of quiet distress. The more time Galinda had to mull over the things she'd seen and heard, the more uneasy she felt. Reliving a childhood trauma was hardly new to her, but the intensity of it... the surety she had felt that the room, the noises, and the fires were real...
She simply couldnt fathom what any of it really meant. The pictures she drew in her mind were too awful to consider, yet how could she doubt their significance?
She pulled her scarf more tightly around her, even though the afternoon was warm.
"Galinda? Miss Galinda?"
She winced.
Boq was sprinting up from the banks of the canal, looking as anxious as ever to attract her attention. Galinda could see Elphaba sitting down on a nearby slope with two of his companions; a pair she had met before on a handful of previous occasions. Crope and... Tibbett?
"Hello, Master Boq," she said, trying to affect an air of friendliness.
He looked momentarily pained. "Is the honorific so very necessary between us anymore?"
Galinda blushed as she realized what he was alluding to. Lake Chorge. Caprice-in-the-Pines. An exasperating afternoon spent idling about on a porch. She suspected that she was going to spend the rest of her natural life regretting her decision to let Boq kiss her.
She sighed. "Forgive me, Boq. I'm afraid I'm a bit out of sorts today- names and titles are the last thing on my mind. But I trust you're faring well?"
He nodded, looking as if he was every bit as worn down. "No need for apologies, least of all to me. Everyone's been a little off since... well. Would you like to come and join us, anyhow?" he smiled. "We've been nursing a bottle of wine and talking nonsense for the last half hour. Your company would be so appreciated. We're in desperate need of someone to save us from our awful state."
Her first instinct was to immediately decline, feeling particularly unsocial as well as the inappropriateness of meeting with them without her Ama Clutch. But that just brought fresher, more painful thoughts to the surface, leaving her more distraught than she was before. Boq used her hesitancy as an invitation to take her arm, and as she couldn't find a suitable means of escape, there was no other alternative than to walk with him towards the canal.
"Miss Galinda," said Crope, standing as they approached. "How very good of you to join us." He offered her a glass of wine, and she thanked him for his kindness.
"Enjoy them now while you can, Galinda," said Elphaba. "They're never usually this well-behaved."
"I know. You'd hardly recognize them," said Boq, good-naturedly.
"It's not every day we're burdened with sorrows too grievous to comprehend," said Tibbett. "Who knew the loss of a Goat would be as heartrending as the loss of a beloved friend?"
"They're talking about merging the students together now," said Crope, sitting back down and grabbing the wine bottle. "Co-education at Shiz, who would have thought it?"
"I'd say its about time, considering the archaic limitations that have undermined a woman's education for centuries," said Elphaba, taking another sip of her wine. "A pity that it should come at the price of a mutilated Animal, but I suppose that's what they call progress." She was clearly more bitter than normal today.
"So what does that say- another end that we justify by hideous means?" Tibbett remarked.
"Or a small consolation to remind us that everything in this world, whether it's good or evil, happens for a reason," said Crope thoughtfully.
Elphaba snorted with derision. "Oh, please. Spare me your altruistic impressions of the universe. Assuming one could even define evil in its simplest form, let alone comprehend its purpose, that's a paltry explanation for why someone felt it necessary to slit Dr. Dillamond's throat."
"Must we continue to discuss it?" said Boq, lifting up his spectacles and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I would prefer it if we talked of something else."
"Oh, well, what would you like to talk about then?" said Elphaba. "The weather? Fashion trends? Beautiful rainbows and soft, speckled kittens? Pick a subject, Boq, and let's have at it. Heaven knows we shouldn't be wasting our valuable time with bothersome moral dilemmas."
"There's no need to be so tart," Boq replied. "I think we need to cut you off, Elphie. Wine does nothing but make you cantankerous."
"I don't need wine to be cantankerous. And I don't feel like curbing my anger so you can simper and moon at my roommate all afternoon."
"Oh really, Elphie," said Tibbett, leaning over and resting his head in her lap. "You're making him blush, and not in the most flattering way." Elphaba looked like she wanted nothing more than to dump the rest of her wine on his head.
Boq was getting annoyed. "Make your jokes then, or vex at me all you want. But don't pretend like he didn't mean as much to me as he did to you, Elphie. And if I would rather devote my afternoon to dwelling on anything other than his death for a change, I think the old Goat would forgive me. Galinda's presence has nothing to do with it."
"Glinda."
Everyone stopped and looked at her. She stared at them all a bit nervously, fingering the stem on her wine glass as she quietly cleared her throat.
"He... that is, Dr. Dillamond... had a problem saying my name. The Gillikenese pronunciation was difficult for him. Something in the vowel sounds, I suppose."
She was speaking so awkwardly, but somehow managed to stammer on. "I remember him calling me Glinda on the train to Shiz. I was so annoyed, having to sit with him, or even talk to him. He was horribly dressed, and I thought rather ill of him for it. We could barely stand to be in the same cabin together. I was arrogant, shy, and foolish, and.. and I think I might even have offended him."
She looked up at Elphaba and found a cool pair of russet eyes staring back at her. Galinda swallowed, attempting to find her last nerve.
"Do you think," Galinda started, "I mean- that is to say, I think Glinda is a nice name. I might like to be called it as well, if that wasn't too improper."
For a moment, no one said anything. Then, Crope leaned forward and gave Galinda his deepest, most charming smile.
"Miss Glinda of the Arduennas," he said, raising the bottle of wine in the air. "You are nowhere near as wicked as Miss Elphie here would have us believe. Indeed, I'd say you're the best of all of us."
Galinda felt Boq take hold of her hand and press it between his. Her gaze, however, was focused on Elphaba, who continued to scrutinize her more closely than she'd ever done before.
"Here here," said Tibbett, clinking his glass against Crope's bottle. "A fine tribute to a great Animal. Here's hoping that his country and kinsmen will write up an epitaph half so grand as yours."
"Do you really think me wicked?"
Galinda was walking with Elphaba towards the girls' dining hall, where many of the students were already gathering for supper. Elphaba, as usual, was only half-paying attention, and the wine she'd had didn't help the situation either.
"What?"
"Crope alleged that I wasn't nearly as wicked as you'd led him to believe," said Galinda, regarding Elphaba a bit strangely. "Do you really think I am?"
"Oh yes, Crope's incessant prattle," said Elphaba derisively. "As if any of those fools knew the first thing about morality, let alone life and death. Always looking for the answers to life's little abnormalities in the strangest, stupidest places. If they ever bothered to exercise one whit of common sense when it actually mattered..." Elphaba paused and turned, suddenly realizing that Galinda had stopped.
"I'm serious," said Galinda with that same humorless expression she'd worn all week. "Do you think that I'm a wicked person?"
"No. You are the essence of goodness and light itself; a blessing to all who know you. Now come on, I don't want to be stuck eating the poached trout again."
Galinda didn't move.
Elphaba let out an exasperated sigh. "Since when have you ever cared what I think of you, Galinda? We've spent the better part of a year together, barely managing to tolerate the other's existence when necessity required us to actually interact with each other. And though you are foolish more often than wise, I never claimed to be your moral superior. Your silliness and eccentricities are of little interest to me, just as mine are to you. We're bonded by our complete indifference to each other, and I don't see why that would change just because Crope made a stupid remark to you while he was drunk. Is that a satisfactory answer for you?"
Galinda looked like a vase set precariously on the edge of a dresser, ready to fall and shatter at any moment. "I've been terrible to you, havent I?" she said quietly.
It wasn't the response that Elphaba had been expecting. She stared at Galinda in mild shock, watching her roommate fight off tears that she wouldn't- no- that she refused to cry.
"Be honest, Elphaba. I won't shy away from it now. You've never seen me do a single decent thing in your entire life, have you?"
They stood there in silence, one unsure of what this conversation meant; the other convinced that it meant everything. A thousand different sarcastic remarks were on the tip of her tongue, but Elphaba couldn't bring herself to say any of them. Galinda had been so raw lately- so weak-spirited and unnerved. It made her appear quite fragile at times, like Galinda was literally carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. The past few days had been hard on them both, but Galinda's misery was harder to define. It wasn't just that she had been humbled by past events. Galinda was unquestionably disturbed.
And even if Elphaba wasn't used to coddling anyone, other than her sister perhaps, there was something in the way that Galinda looked at her- spoke to her- that made Elphaba just want to... reach out.
Comfort her.
Hold her.
She hated Galinda for it, even as a part of her longed for the courage to do it.
"You've put up with me for over a year, now," said Elphaba without a trace of sarcasm. "I think that's rather decent of you."
Galinda turned her head in shame. "No, it wasn't."
"Well, buy me dinner then. Whether it's decent or not will depend on what they're still serving." She smiled as she said this, a gesture that Galinda only half-heartedly returned. It was clear that there was something more going unsaid, but Galinda obviously wasn't ready to say it. Elphaba offered her an arm, regardless, and was glad when her roommate accepted it.
"Lead the way then, Elphie," said Galinda, as cheerfully as she could manage.
And so Elphaba did.
She never noticed that Galinda had used her name in the familiar term that night. She was fare more preoccupied, and troubled, by the strange purple bruises that trailed down the backs of her roommate's arms.