The Familiar
"Then there's the dragon beneath Oz, in a hidden cavern (…)
The dragon who has dreamt the world, and who will burn it in flames when he awakes-"
Wicked, p. 57
Elphaba wasn't sure how she would feel seeing Nessarose again after a year's separation from her younger sister. It was impossible to surmise what was right to feel.
There were few things in this world as complicated as Elphaba's relationship with her family, and to say that her association with any of them was difficult would have been a colossal understatement. School had provided her with the first opportunity in her life to set out on her own; to distance herself from all of them while simultaneously discovering what else life had to offer her. Even if there had been a disproportionate amount of setbacks to successes during her time at University, she couldn't deny the fact that leaving every last Thropp behind her had been more than a little freeing.
Still, her family seemed to be the only unchanging variable in her increasingly unpredictable existence. Where confusion and anarchy were the unvarying order of student life at Shiz, she knew that she could depend on her relations for unfailing regularity in thought, manner, and disposition. Her father would always be ashamed of her. Nanny would always be insane for her. Shell would always be estranged from her. And Nessa… well. Nessa would always be in need of her. It was comforting at times, when it wasn't unbearable. All the same, it was the story of her life. Elphaba was the Thropp Third Descending: the greatest disappointment the line had ever seen and heir to a family legacy that was absolutely meaningless to her.
How unfortunate, then, that she loved them all so dearly.
When she requested to have Nanny take Ama Clutch's place as her and Glinda's new minder, she knew full well that it meant that Nessa would be coming a year earlier too. It had seemed like a manageable solution at the time, though Elphaba was forced to admit that thoughts of Glinda's welfare had heavily influenced her hasty decision. Truth be told, she was actually rather surprised that Madame Morrible had acquiesced to her suggestion with such little fuss. She wasn't prepared to allow that the vile old witch was growing soft in her years, or that she had had a sudden unbelievable change of heart, so she chose to regard the whole affair with the same suspicion and wariness that she was becoming famous for, if one chose to listen to Tibbett or Crope.
But the day of their arrival soon came, and Elphaba was pleased to find that she was genuinely happy to see them both again. Nanny was as rotund and spirited as she remembered, and Nessa was a picture of sanctimonious beauty. After a warm exchange of greetings and an unpleasant visit with the headmistress in her office, a few porters were summoned to carry Nanny and Nessa's luggage up to Crage Hall in what had formerly been Ama Clutch's room. As Elphaba expected, the process of unpacking and rearranging the place was a noisy, chaotic mess.
"Oh, this simply won't do!" cried Nessa as she squirmed on the cushion of an ancient looking chair. "One of the legs is shorter than the rest. Look! When I lean back, it tilts to the right just so."
"Maybe we can stick a book underneath it," said Elphaba as she knelt down for a closer look. "See if that will even it out."
"They're too thick for that, Elphie. And even then, I should be very distressed if I had to spend the rest of the school-year balanced precariously on a stack of books." Nessa motioned with the point of her toe that she wanted Nanny to help her up, and Nanny quickly obliged.
"That chair is old enough to get anyone bent out of shape," said Nanny, clucking her tongue. "I wouldn't doubt it if that Ama of yours was sent to the infirmary for a touch of scoliosis on top of her screwy musings. How cramped and rickety this room is! They might as well have stuffed us in a shoebox."
"I can manage well enough with the size, Nanny," said Nessa. "It's the chair that has me wary."
"Wary of the chair, you say? Well, don't you worry, poppet. Nanny's going to go down and see if that Morrible fiend would be willing to substitute some of the clumsier furniture in here for sturdier fittings. I'm sure there's a wingback in some webby niche not going to any use."
"If you go, tell her we also need to get these drapes replaced," said Elphaba as she stared at the curtains in disapproval. "These hardly allow for much privacy."
"Oh, she'll be hearing all of that and more," Nanny replied. "But don't you go skipping off while I'm out. Try and sort out the rest of our cases and keep Nessie away from the corners of that desk. Oh, and mind she doesn't trip over any of the luggage, either!"
Elphaba shooed Nanny out of the room with every assurance that she would look after her sister, and quickly shut the door behind her to prevent curious eyes from peeking in.
"There," said Nessa, "she's gone to complain, and now I have you all to myself." She smiled as she leaned her head against Elphaba, the closest she could manage to an embrace. "My wicked little Elphie, how I've missed you. What can you tell me? How have you been keeping yourself?"
"I'm as kept as a Quadling's kitchen," said Elphaba with a grin, and she wrapped her arms around Nessarose. "Full of rot and unfit for guests. But here you are, and I'm thrilled to have you. What of my Nessie these days?"
"The grace of the Unnamed God gives me strength as ever," her sister replied as if reciting it by heart. "But the carriage ride was horrible, especially once we crossed the Shiz Gate. Why ever haven't they made more of an effort to extend the railway south? So much for the glorious yellow brick road. I suspect I look as bruised as the apples on Miss Thrumptin's farm." The two of them chuckled at the thought.
"You just need to get some of the stiffness out of you," said Elphaba as she assisted Nessa over to the bed. "I'll take you walking later tonight so long as you promise not to whine too much."
"Oh, but what should you do if I stopped all my whining? Mean old Elphie would be so distraught, left with nothing to complain about."
"No fear of that, Nessie- I'll always have cause to complain. And as to your previous query, I think there's a greater chance of the Wizard building a bridge to the moon before they run the railroad down to Quadling Country- ruby deposits or no."
"I don't suppose it really matters in the long run," Nessa remarked as she shifted unsteadily on the bed. "I don't think father will be staying there much longer. Things there haven't been going so well, and he took my leaving rather hard. Do you think you'll ever go back to the Kells again, after school is over?"
"I couldn't say," said Elphaba while she closed a suitcase and slid it under Nanny's bed. "I suppose it's home, though I never really felt as if I belonged there."
"Our deformities tend to make us outcasts in any arena," Nessa replied.
Our deformities.
Her sister spoke of it so casually, it nearly astonished her. Not that Nessarose was incapable of openly acknowledging either of their physical defects, but that she would choose to cast her lot in with her sister's was the incredible thing. It was another one of those rare moments when Nessa proved she was capable of looking beyond the confines of her own ill-fated and armless existence by acknowledging that, perhaps, Elphaba suffered as well.
She sat down on the bed next to Nessa, and pressed a green hand against her cheek. "Do you think you'll be happy here, then?" Elphaba said in a more serious tone. "I know we're used to being objects of ridicule, but we're much more visible here than we were in Quadling Country. The students here can be remarkably cruel, if you're inclined to pay any attention to what they're saying, and I can't promise you that the teachers will be any better."
"Then that is their failing, not ours," said Nessa firmly. "We must pity those with such narrow-minded vision, Elphaba, and strive to make the most of our lot. Besides, you seem to have done rather well for yourself in making friends. I trust they're the reason why you've neglected writing me all summer."
"That's another discussion altogether," Elphaba muttered, and she kissed Nessa on the forehead before standing again. "But the short of it is that I was knee-deep in a scientific and social campaign that occupied the whole of my summer, and I didn't make time for much else. The Goat I wrote to you about, Dr. Dillamond, took me in as a kind of apprentice in his studies on Animal theory and genetics. When I wasn't in the labs taking notes for him, I was holed up in the library for several hours at a time. A few friends were working with me, as they were equally as anxious to be involved in Dillamond's research as I was."
"Yes, I'm sure you were very inspiring," said Nessa wryly, watching as Elphaba stacked books on a nearby shelf. "That Munchkin boy… is he a paramour of yours?"
"Boq?" Elphaba snorted. "Gracious no. Whatever would have given you that idea?"
"Oh my, how quickly we are to forget," she said with a half-teasing, half-reproachful look. "I seem to recall a squat little Quadling boy romancing you three summers ago when we were still in the Ovvels. Doesn't this Boq of yours fit the type?"
"Pawing me up in a barn is hardly romance. And even if I did have a partiality for miniature-sized nitwits, Boq is too silly and love-sick over my roommate to be of any interest. He is a good friend, though, I should say, and has been my unwavering advocate in Dillamond's campaign." And as she said it, Elphaba suddenly realized just how true that statement was. A pang of something like shame or remorse filled her heart, and she tried to fight it back by fussing over a painting on the wall that was hanging slightly askew.
"Well, what of your roommate then? She's nothing at all like I was expecting."
"Glinda is many things," said Elphaba in frustration, either over the painting or Nessa's choice of subject. "And each layer is more complicated than the next."
"It's rare to find such quiet diffidence in one so flawlessly pretty," said Nessa thoughtfully. "For all of Morrible's talk on good-breeding, I think a little humility amongst the privileged classes says far more about their upbringing than fine jewelry or porcelain tea sets. I trust the two of you have overcome your initial differences?"
"We've overcome our desire to strangle the other, yes," said Elphaba. "As for the rest of it, I don't know what to tell you. Up until a month ago, we couldn't be more at odds with each other, and the humility you so highly regard in her was practically non-existent. Now she clings to me like a small frightened child, and suddenly I'm forced to play the unlikely role of comforter." She finally gave up on the painting, and merely stood staring at the canvas.
Nessa couldn't contain her laughter, which eventually drew Elphaba's attention. "Oh honestly dear, do you really expect me to believe you're forced to do anything? How transparent you are at times. The whole world obviously adores her, and you hate it because you're just as enamored as they are. You always did pride yourself on refusing to conform to popular opinion, for all of your gloom and general self-loathing. Yet behold- everyone has fallen for her, and you're no different than the rest."
"I'm not denying my affections for her, nor would I feel the need to," said Elphaba hotly. "What frustrates me is my inability to understand her- how she's transformed into this pensive, frightened creature that can hardly bear to look me in the eye anymore. Everyone seems convinced that it was Dillamond's death or her Ama's madness that's altered her so, but I don't see it. I'm telling you, Nessa, and I mean this sincerely, it's almost as if she's blaming herself for their misfortunes."
Nessa seemed to absorb this information in her usual, thoughtful manner. "And what of her spirituality? Does she pray regularly? Does she attend mass?"
Elphaba gave her a withering sort of look. "I'm hardly the person to ask about that."
"Well clearly that's it then. The only way for Glinda to purge these experiences from her soul is by recommitting herself to the Unnamed God. Throw off the shackles of all of her guilt and seek His blessed forgiveness. How else can she expect to find solace during these troubled times if her faith remains in doubt?"
"On behalf of the faithless, I don't doubt she could."
Nessa glared at her. "Don't start with me, Elphie. Don't. I do my best to tolerate your pretty little blasphemies, but we're talking about Glinda here, and I'm being perfectly serious."
"Be as serious as you like," said Elphaba. "But Glinda's spirituality, whatever it is, has nothing to do with her current fractured state of mind. I've seen her praying often enough, but the Unnamed Deity of Magic and Wonder has yet to bless her with calmer dreams during the night. Your intentions are good, as they always are, but I don't see how angry sermons of hellfire and damnation would be of any relief to her, much less to anyone else."
"Oh, and have you helped her, Elphaba?" her sister retorted. "Show me your success. You mock my faith with so much derision, yet for all of your superior know-how, your efforts, whatever they are, have proven to be every bit as useless. Perhaps you could stand to adopt some of Glinda's humility yourself. A little penitence might do you some good, if nothing else will."
Elphaba shut the top drawer of the dresser, trying her best to stay calm. "We've been over this Nessa," she said in a patient tone. "Your ways were never mine. And if I truly am a twisted little punishment from the Unnamed God for sins unforgivable, as father so often reminds me, what difference does it make whether I'm penitent or not? Seems a hopeless business, I think."
It was obviously the wrong thing to say; however, as Nessa's jaw set itself in the cruel and magnificent way it did when she became upset. "You're mocking me," she said slowly, angrily. "But then, why should I be surprised? It's really nothing new, after all. You always did have a talent for cruelty."
Elphaba sighed. "Nessa…"
"Maybe father was right," she continued, her head tilted as if in contemplation. "Maybe I was wrong to have come here a year early. I had my reservations- he seemed so distraught at losing me. But no, I thought my duty here was to my sister. Was I wrong, Elphaba? Have I judged you prematurely? Or have you disappointed us all again, like you have such a talent for doing?"
Well. There it was. Whether they were college students or small children, Nessa always knew the words to wound her, and she cut into Elphaba with all the skill of a surgeon.
The two stared at each other, all camaraderie now vanished. It never failed to amaze Elphaba how quickly their amity could turn into the same tired conflicts, but that seemed to be the hallmark of their relationship.
Nessa turned away from her, choosing to look at the wall instead. "I'm tired," she said curtly. "I want to take a nap. You and Nanny can finish rearranging the room later, but for now, I'd like to rest."
Elphaba hesitated, unsure if it was wise to leave Nessa alone like this. She certainly knew Nanny would be cross with her for completely disobeying her instructions, never mind getting Nessa upset. "I should stay," she said quietly.
"No, Elphaba. Thank you, but no. We've had enough of each other for today, I think, and as only one of us can open the door and leave, you should really take the hint."
Cruel words, but they weren't unexpected. The familiar sting of disappointment hung heavily between them, reminding Elphaba of home more than anything. She wasn't happy to leave things as they were, but it seemed to be the end of the conversation, at least as far as Nessa was concerned. So, like the dutiful sister she'd always been, Elphaba took the hint.
She knelt down to help Nessa out of her shoes and stockings, but Nessa insisted that she was fine napping just the way she was. Lying down on the bed, she permitted Elphaba to place a small blanket on top of her, but rolled over to prevent further apologies or placations being made.
Elphaba sighed deeply once again, and quietly made her way over to the door. She stopped as her fingers touched the brass surface of the doorknob, willing herself to find something to say to her sister.
"I'm sorry the ride was so uncomfortable getting here," she said softly. "I hope at least you'll be comfortable with the room."
She waited a moment, letting the usual silence sink between them. Nessa made no response.
Elphaba quit the room shortly thereafter, making sure once again that the door was secured.
The unchanging variable, she thought wearily, and headed for her own room in silent resignation.
The market at Railway Square was uncommonly crowded for a cool Thursday afternoon when Glinda eventually arrived. The stalls and kiosks were set up in large colorful displays, and every merchant was trying to draw her attention to their assortment of mismatched goods for sale. Jewelry nestled between hand-woven baskets. Postcards and bottles of inexpensive perfume. She looked at them all with mild interest, as coming here had been more of an excuse to get outside of the campus grounds for maybe an hour or two.
A lecture had been scheduled for the students at Crage Hall earlier that morning, but Glinda opted out of attending as the idea of confinement in a cramped building made her intensely ill. It wasn't generally in her nature to blatantly go about breaking the rules, but her sense of propriety had left long ago, and in all honesty, Glinda had more pressing concerns to worry about than incurring the wrath of the headmistress.
Furthermore, she couldn't bear all of the looks and sideways glances that others were starting to direct at her. Her strange and hysterical behavior of late had not gone unnoticed, despite her best efforts to remain unobserved. But however withdrawn or silent she'd been, Glinda nevertheless found herself as the latest object of gossip and speculation amongst her Crage Hall peers.
Let them think what they will, she thought jadedly. What did it even matter, anyway? Her life had been spiraling out of control for weeks now, and there wasn't much else she could do when simply waking up in the morning was too much for her to bear.
A wrinkled old Munchkinlander bid her over to a small display of scarves, telling Glinda how beautiful she was and how this-or-that would look lovely with her complexion. She stared in appreciation at all of the different colors, fingering a beautiful cashmere wrap that was a rich shade of burgundy.
It would look so lovely on Elphaba, she thought, and smiled to think of her roommate wearing it. She had considered inviting Elphaba to come with her, thinking that it might give them an opportunity to talk. She had sensed Elphaba's frustration with her, or with Glinda's unwillingness to confide her recent sorrows with her roommate. Perhaps that was the cruelest kind of irony about their relationship, though it had its fair share of cruelties. The more Glinda grew to admire and appreciate Elphaba, the more hesitant she was to let her in.
But there was so much that Elphaba didn't know about her, and so much Glinda wanted to stay hidden. How could she consider losing Elphie's respect and approval now, just when she finally had it?
Glinda sighed. She supposed that made no difference either. Elphaba had her sister to worry about, so reckless behavior during school hours was completely out of the question. But she purchased the scarf for her, in any case, certain that Elphie would like it.
"Out without a chaperone, Miss Glinda?" said a distinctly male voice behind her. "How naughty."
She let out a small breath of frustration, and turned to Avaric with a winsome smile. "Master Avaric," she said as prettily as she could. "What will I do? It seems you've found me out."
He smiled devilishly at her, and lifted both of her hands in his to bestow a kiss on the tips of her fingers in proper Gilikin custom. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to encourage a little rule-breaking now and then. Capital to see you here, Miss Glinda. And may I say how beautiful you're looking?"
"If you must," she replied, willing herself to be charming but failing all the same. The Margreave's son was dressed in fit trousers and a jacket with silver trim, making him look as dashing as ever. She was almost annoyed with him for it. "What brings you here today?"
"Oh, a little mischief… a little menace," he said, and they began walking together. "Boq wanted to meet up with his Three Queens admirers for an afternoon of flirting, and I left them to acquire a pack of cigarettes." He produced a silver case from his pocket and took one out, not bothering to ask if she approved of him smoking near her. "Now what about you, Miss Arduenna of the Uplands? Trying to escape the poisonous clutches of your unsightly venus fly trap?"
She stopped walking, and turned to Avaric with a glare. "Miss Elphaba is escorting her sister Nessarose to the seasonal lecture on campus," she said haughtily, "and I'll thank you not to refer to her as some vile, poisonous plant."
Avaric raised his eyebrows a little, then quickly started laughing. It made him all the handsomer, which only irritated her more.
"Lending a hand, eh?" he said as he struck a match to light his cigarette. "Or a pair of arms in her sister's case. Ah well. It's nice to see you wandering off without much of a care. Very bold of you. Have you been here long?"
"I have," she said pointedly, wrapping her shawl around her. "And I was just leaving, as a matter of fact."
"Oh, stay a while," he said, pressing a hand to the small of her back and moving her in the opposite direction. "Come say 'hi' to the boys at least, or Boq will never forgive me. He's madly in love with you, you know."
"Really," she sighed. "I hadn't noticed." Her sense of propriety was starting to resurface as Avaric shoved her gently in the direction of the café.
"Not interested in the half-pints, eh? I can understand. The Munchkins can be a bit of a handful, and I mean that both in good ways and bad. Boq's really not a bad fellow, though, once you get to know him. It's just that he looks ridiculous."
Glinda couldn't suppress a smile, though she mentally chided herself for it. It was next to impossible not to be a little charmed by Avaric's shameless manners, as boorish as he was. She suspected that was why Boq was such good friends with him, and why Elphaba relished every opportunity she had to argue with the brute.
Upon entering the café, Glinda found herself scanning the room with a wary eye, lest any of her social acquaintance were present to see her alone in the company of a gentleman. She could see Crope and Tibbett laughing at a table in the far corner, and what could only have been Boq sitting with his back to her, studiously writing. As they approached, the Three Queens boys looked up in pleasant surprise, ready to offer them cheerful greetings. Avaric motioned for them to be silent, and knelt down next to his roommate.
"Miss me, dear?" he smirked, and placed a hand on Boq's shoulder. "I have a surprise for you."
Boq was still engrossed with his writing, and didn't bother looking up. "If it's more of those nudie cards from that pervert's stall at the corner, I'm sure we've seen enough of them- particularly if it's the same lop-sided blonde."
Avaric grinned even wider, and Tibbett let out an indelicate cough while Crope covered his mouth with his hand.
"Well she is blonde, dear fellow, but hardly lop-sided as you suggest. Miss Glinda?"
"Hello Boq," said Glinda, too diverted to be properly offended. "Crope… Tibbett… how nice to see you all."
Crope and Tibbett broke out into boisterous laughter, and Glinda had the privilege of seeing Boq turn fifteen different shades of red. Avaric clapped him roughly on the shoulder, and told the group he was going to order more tea for everyone. "Save me a seat, in any case," he yelled. "There's a new server up front, and she's hotter than anything."
"Glinda-" Boq finally managed, stumbling out of his chair and taking his hat in his hands. "I didn't… we weren't expecting…"
"Have a seat, Miss Glinda," said Tibbett gallantly, as he slid a chair out for her to sit in. "It's not often that we're treated to the company of Crage Hall this early in the day, so you'll forgive Boq here for wetting himself at this most unexpected visit."
Glinda sat down at their table, momentarily forgetting her excuse to leave early. "I wasn't feeling up to the lecture today," she said diffidently. "I hope you'll forgive the indiscretion. Avaric cornered me in the market before I could escape."
"Splendid!" said Crope, saving Boq from the embarrassment of having to try and speak again. "The handsome villain has brought us a damsel in distress. We're having our own lectures of-a-sorts, if you'd care to join in, though the pornography is sadly lacking."
"Oh I don't know," said Tibbett with a grin. "If we dig through some of these pleasure-faith illustrations, I'm sure we can find Miss Glinda something raunchy. Would you care to see a stencil of Princess Sonoma and the wild Bull she took as her lover?"
"Manners, you rake," said Boq, finally recovering from his earlier humiliation. "And really, Glinda, we're thrilled to have you here. It's been a long afternoon, as you might have guessed. I think the boys here are about ready to give up on me."
Glinda had noticed the piles of books and papers stacked all over the table. "Arjikian princesses and their Animal consorts- dare I ask what it is you're working on?"
"This, my love, is an entire summer's worth of insurrection and ennui," said Tibbett, gesturing towards the pile of notes in front of him. "All of the theories, conjectures, and implausible speculations we made while Elphie had us bustling about for the great Dr. Dillamond."
"Every absurdity we ever committed to paper," added Crope, lifting a book from the pile nearest Boq. "Lurline above, did we honestly do this much work over the summer? How utterly remarkable."
"Is work what you'd call it?" said Boq with a leer, snatching the book back from him. "That's a fair word for falling asleep behind the bookcases and leaving suggestive drawings on mine and Elphie's papers."
"I think you were fortunate to get that much out of us," Tibbett smirked.
"Oh, yes," said Glinda, looking back at the notes with sudden interest. "You were all working with Elphie and Dr. Dillamond, weren't you?"
"Were is the correct term, yes," said Boq sullenly. "We dedicated most of our summer to it; the cause for Animals and animals alike. These," he said, pointing to the different piles, "are what little we've scraped together ourselves, but it's mostly all mythological supposition and nonsense. Elphie's the one who saved the critical information— the last of Dillamond's research. Now she's refused to let us help her make use of it. I've tried my best to convince her otherwise, but you know how stubborn she can be when she sets her mind to something."
Glinda reached for the papers in front of her, and began turning the pages one by one. "I knew she was fond of Dillamond," she said softly, "that his work was important to her. But we never talked about it much. It's one more thing I never really understood about her."
"Well, to own the truth, we were just as indifferent about it all," said Crope. "That is, me and Tibbett at least. In the beginning, it was just something to do; a way to kill a little time between the evil we so often love getting up to."
"Things changed pretty quickly, though, once we started spending time with Elphaba," Tibbett continued. "Everything was an adventure then; a mystery waiting to be solved. Crope and I were pouring over books like The Regent's Compendium instead of trashy romance novels, much to our mutual astonishment. How many days did we spend in this very café, drinking piss-awful tea while arguing over Lurlinism and other mythological twaddle?"
"They really were exciting times," said Boq wistfully, placing his hand on the back of Glinda's chair. "It was a shame you couldn't have been there with us, Glinda. I know we would have cherished your company."
She read along the lines of the paper. There were sketches and quotes from the Oziad and a few other sources she was unfamiliar with, all written in Boq's tiny handwriting. "But what encouraged all of this?" she said. "How did Dr. Dillamond come to inspire you so?"
"Oh, it wasn't the Goat that inspired us," said Crope. "It was our darling, our dear Miss Elphaba."
Glinda blinked. "Elphaba?"
They all nodded. She stared at each of them, unsure if they were playing around with her, but the steadiness of their respective gazes convinced her that Crope was being perfectly sincere. All of this, and all for Elphaba?
"But… why?" she asked, unable to stop the words from spilling out of her mouth.
"Why? What do you mean why?" Crope howled in exasperation. "What's there not to love about her?"
"She's headstrong…"
"Temperamental…"
"Argumentative…"
"Irritable…"
"Don't forget excessively insulting when drunk…"
"Or how tetchy she gets when you contradict her…"
"And we wouldn't have her any other way," Tibbett finished, and they all nodded again, each sporting a different kind of grin.
Glinda was dumfounded. Every last word her friends had related was a complete revelation to her, and she wasn't quite sure what to make of it. She knew that they all got on with Elphaba; that they endured her abuse and sarcasm better than anyone. But that they had expended so much time and effort just to work with her—to be with her—toiling away for a cause that only Elphie or Boq seemed to genuinely care about—well, it was incredible. She was touched by their loyalty, even if she felt something in her heart that was strangely close to jealousy.
To have spent every week here with her… to know and love her as well as they did… better than even her roommate knew her, after all of the time they'd shared…
"I had no idea she meant so much to you all," she said, humbled.
"She's a revolutionary, Glinda," said Boq, boldly. "She moves and inspires like nothing else on the Unnamed God's green earth is capable of. Don't you feel it when you're near her? How her very presence stirs you with some unfathomable, exciting emotion?"
Glinda suddenly became very warm. "She is intense, I suppose."
"Intense nothing," said Tibbett. "I've never met anyone who was capable of inspiring me to give a toss about anything in my life. Just ask my father. And yet, here is Elphie, infecting each of us with her all-consuming fervor over the polarizing theories of a miserable old Goat. Now she's turned me into something of a socially conscious scoundrel. Who would ever have imagined it?"
"She could take down the whole of Oz herself, if she wanted to" said Boq. "I myself have always admired Dillamond, but I never would have come this far or learned so much were it not for Elphaba."
"Indeed," said Crope. "We've each of us become rather fond of that wickedly green skin of hers, as sinful as it is. Mark my words, children, she's going to bring change to this place, even if she has to set this whole blessed country on fire to do it. There isn't a single thing our Elphie does that she doesn't do with passion."
Glinda's was now as warm as ever. "But why has she chosen to exclude you all, then? Why now, when preserving Dr. Dillamond's research is as important as ever?"
"Because Elphie is also a romantic," said Tibbett, making a resigned gesture with his hand. "She can't abide the thought of any of us coming to harm; not after what happened with the Goat. She'd rather carry on as the noble martyr, freeing herself of any guilt as she continues to chase her righteous cause."
"Her plans for the future probably involve tying herself to the gates of the Emerald City, or flinging herself in front of enemy fire while sparing us all an ignoble death," added Boq. "It's unbearably insulting when you think about it. We're practically adults now, and we're capable of making the decision for ourselves. Elphaba shouldn't get to choose for us."
Glinda absorbed their words carefully. "Well…" she said thoughtfully, "do you think she might listen to me? I mean, do you think she'd relent if I were to get involved?"
The whole table burst into laughter, though Glinda didn't understand their mirth.
"Oh my lovely Glinda," said Crope with a sigh. "You of all people would only make her convictions that much stronger. I think it's safe to say that the girl would abandon Shiz altogether before she'd see you come to harm."
Glinda frowned, and stared at Crope in confusion. "What does that- "
But she stopped.
A picture or painting fell out of the papers in her hand, lying on the cream-colored skirts of her lap. It had obviously been hidden between the pages of Boq's scrawling notes, though its inclusion in them was momentarily baffling.
It was the portrait of a woman, dressed in an unremarkable gown with a pair of ridiculously ornate shoes. She was nursing a wretched dog-like animal from her breast, cradling the thing over a watery ravine. Her expression was unreadable, either from wear or purposefully rendered thus for effect. The hand that grasped the sick little animal looked curiously and frighteningly familiar, holding the thing in a way that was as tender as it was painful. Neither old nor young, neither kept nor coarse, she was the essence of something from Glinda's nightmares; an unspoiled variation on a theme.
"What is this?" she whispered, the blood slowly draining from her face.
"That?" Boq asked, puzzled by her expression. "Oh. It's an old painting I found in the Three Queens library about a month ago—hidden away in an old codex. I guess I forgot to return it. Fascinating though, isn't it, Glinda? You're one of the few people that's looked at the thing in centuries."
The eyes on the figure were blurred beneath the thick oil paints, so dark as to appear practically nonexistent. Glinda's breathing grew shallow. "No. I mean, who is she?"
"Well, depending on who you listen to, it could either be the Kumbric Witch or Lurline after an unforgiving day at the salon," he chuckled. "See, we'd been reading early folklore on the supposed birth of the Animals, including myths about Lurline and the role of the Kumbric Witches during the time of the floods. When I saw it, I thought it might have been one of them, if not Kumbricia herself. Elphie seemed to think it was a lot of drivel, of course, and I suppose I can't blame her for thinking it."
Kumbricia.
A chill went down Glinda's spine. The words of the Woman from her nightmare became clearer in her mind, ripped straight from that awful dream.
Only blood will stay the floods as only blood ever does.
She gripped the painting more tightly in her hands. "Kumbricia?" she said, her voice flat and emotionless. "You think this is the Witch?"
Boq shrugged his shoulders and rubbed at the back of his neck. "It seemed plausible enough at the time, but doesn't it make a kind of sense? It could have been a baptism of sorts, or some kind of blood sacrifice. Who would know?"
A fair question, and yet—Glinda did.
Are you afraid?
She flung the paper back on the table. "I can't…" she stammered. "No."
"Glinda?" said Crope, unsure of what had alarmed her. "Are you alright?"
The Woman, the Witch was still in front of her, hiding behind her youthful mask of malevolent reds and browns. "No," she faltered. "Or yes- I mean yes, I'm fine." She quickly slid her chair back. "Forgive me, gentleman. I have to leave." With that, she turned to head for the door, failing to notice that her shawl had caught on the back of her chair.
"But Glinda!" said, Boq as he grabbed her shawl and hurried after her. "Glinda, wait!"
"I can't," she whispered in a frantic voice, refusing to look back at him. "I can't do this… I can't do this anymore… By the Unnamed God in heaven, why? Why is this even happening?"
She had reached the café entrance and was nearly out the door when Boq finally caught up with her. "Glinda," he breathed as he grabbed her arm, trying to get her to face him. "Please look at me! What's-"
"Don't touch me!" she shrieked, pulling her arm away so forcefully that Boq staggered backwards into a server before crashing down to the floor.
Everything suddenly came to a halting, screeching standstill as the entire room lapsed into silence. All eyes from every table were upon her, observing the scene with pure and complete astonishment.
Glinda looked out at the sea of faces surrounding her, watching them all through the fogged lenses of someone who might have been dreaming. Crope and Tibbett were standing at the back. An older couple were staring, slack-jawed, at the table right in front of them. Avaric was still at the counter beside the pretty server, and both were staring at her in utter disbelief.
Finally, her eyes fell on Boq where he sat sprawled on the floor, covered in tea and broken glass. He stared up at her in horror, clearly too stunned to move or speak.
"Boq," she whimpered, taking a hesitant step forward. "Boq I…"
He slid back, almost involuntarily. There was blood running down his left hand, and a small tear was glistening on his cheek.
Glinda choked back a sob. She couldn't take any more of it. It was tearing her apart.
She pushed open the doors and escaped into the city streets, trying to put as much distance between her friends and herself as possible. A cold northern wind had picked up by then, rustling the skirts of her dress and stinging every exposed inch of her flesh. It was as welcoming as it was unforgiving.
As she watched the storm clouds gathering overhead, Glinda realized that Crage Hall was no longer the hell she imagined it to be. The whole world had suddenly become her prison.
Who was Glinda Arduenna of the Uplands, and how had she fallen to this awful state of misery? Was she the unhappy victim of a series of tragic circumstances, or the unlikeliest of villains in a gruesome, horrific fairytale?
It was impossible to tell. All sense of self had clearly abandoned her. Fear was all she seemed to understand anymore, as all rational thought was replaced with uncertainty. Death was waiting for her at every turn; taking the guise of Goats and loved ones and witches alike. Every night was filled with terror, and every day was a grim reminder that even her sins could bleed into the light.
Glinda didn't know how she'd made it back to Crage Hall that day, or how she had managed the endless flight of stairs to her room. She only recalled the door slamming shut behind her, and pressing her back firmly against its surface. Thank Lurline she was finally alone. No one, not even Elphaba could save her now.
Slowly, steadily, she slid to the ground.
Tears came unbidden to her eyes, though she didn't fully understand why she was crying. Was it the incredulous look on Boq's face when she turned on him? The look on her friends' faces as she fled? Or was it the greater truth that Glinda hadn't allowed herself to consider; the very possibility that there was darkness within her that was beyond her understanding? She dug the flat of her palms against her forehead, and allowed her sobs to rack through her body.
So this is what her life had become. This was the fitting retribution for every transgression – every sin she'd ever committed. To be tortured by thoughts of a perverse and sickening nature; all for reasons she couldn't even begin to explain.
Couldn't it just be coincidence? A colorful caricature of a woman that was only vaguely reminiscent of the cadaverous creature in her dreams? Why did anything have to have meaning? The world was built up of cruel and unjust imperfections; she knew this as well as anyone. Ama Clutch could only be suffering a short and passing illness, and Dr. Dillamond could be a victim of his own clumsy negligence. Paintings were only paintings, then. None of them bruised or frightened her.
And Temen… dear, dear Temen…
Her hands fell limply to her sides.
No. She couldn't do it. There was no pretending that all things were simply a matter of chance. Evil had discovered her; had somehow become her, without her permission or consent.
She wiped the tears away from her eyes, too disgusted with herself to indulge her grief.
Without realizing it, her gaze had wandered over to Elphaba's bookshelf. Volume-after-volume of colorful bindings swam into her vision; the only true colors that Elphie really allowed herself. A word or two caught Glinda's eye, as blurred as they were by her tears.
She picked herself up from off the ground and hesitantly approached Elphaba's side of the room. A few little trinkets and tiny bottles lined the dusty shelf; a testament to her roommate's stark and uncluttered nature. Books were the only indulgence that Elphie seemed to allow herself, and she appeared to have a little of everything. Some were on the sciences. Many were on Animal theory. A few popular works of fiction were even scattered in the bunch, and of course, there were books on Ozian mythology. The worn red copy of the book she'd spotted came into view, as well as its title in gold printed letters: The Kumbric Verses of Oz. Glinda noted the loose binding, and was careful not to tear it as she pulled it down from the shelf.
It was an ancient volume that must have been printed nearly a century ago, as evident in the hard end-boards and crude, yellowing paper. There weren't any library markings that were visible, suggesting that Elphaba had most likely purchased it at one of the filthy bookstores crammed in Railway Square. She slid her hands along the cover, and turned to sit on Elphaba's bed.
Grey blankets were gathered in a frumpled mess where Elphie had left them that morning, either in too much of a hurry or too disinclined to fix them. Pulling back the sheet and bedspread, Glinda sat next to her roommate's pillow, momentarily comforted by the faint scent of Elphaba that lingered there. Then, placing the book on her lap, she gently turned back the cover and began thumbing through the different pages.
They were versus of poetry, all detailing the legends and myths that spoke of the Kumbric Witches. Glinda suspected that Elphie had made use of this during the summer months when she and the others were studying relationships between different versions of Ozian folklore. She could see the places where Elphaba had made indentations, or scribbled a few notes into the margins. 'Mentions of Animal transformation prior to flooding' one note read. 'A parallel for the pleasure-faithers?' read another. Glinda traced them all with her fingers, wholly fascinated by the idea of her roommate's thoughts laid bare before her. There was something so personal about it; so intimate even- like she was reading Elphaba's diary, or watching her undress. The thought made Glinda blush unexpectedly, and she quickly turned the page.
More writing. More notes. The poems occasionally included an archaic looking drawing of their subjects, even Kumbricia herself. Nothing was as fully rendered as the painting Boq had shown her, though, and no two likenesses were the same. They all looked so different from each other, yet underneath, there was a hint of recognition… a sense of familiarity. There was truth in all of them.
Voices could be heard outside in the hall, filtering through the door. As if awakened from a spell, Glinda looked up at the clock and noticed that it was nearly a quarter to six. Elphaba, Nanny, and Nessarose would probably be heading to supper, and she had promised Elphie that she would meet them in the dining hall. Wiping her face once again, she was just about to close the book when she suddenly noticed the page before her, one that she'd unconsciously flipped to.
There was a girl in stark profile, drawn with minimal features that lacked any value or contrast. On the opposite side of her was a large snakelike dragon, curled towards her in a mirror-like image of her own emotionless figure. They looked as if they were about to kiss, or were merely contemplating each other. Together they formed a single face, and their bodies were joined just beneath the torso. It was so unlike any drawing that Glinda had ever seen before; so fantastic and grossly bizarre. When she read the poem's title, she was equally, if not more, bewildered.
'The Familiar of Kumbricia.'
Afore the eve of winter's slumber,
Resting under brilliant flame,
Lies the maid of whisper'd wonder,
Soft and sleeping; heart unclaimed.
Tho' the dragon rents asunder
Flesh for feasting: Lurline's shame.
Do waking dreams of earthly slaughter
Haunt the Kumbric's treasured daughter?
Burned in heart, or scorch'd by water?
Yet within the dragon's dreaming,
All things bend to silent will.
Skin is burnt, a voice is screaming;
Love's forsaken sorrow'd kill.
There we learn the deeper meaning-
What becomes is thus fulfilled.
Glinda sat perfectly still; a picture of immobility. Even her breathing couldn't betray her, nor the blood pulsing just beneath her skin.
She read the poem over and over until her vision became blurred and unfocused again. A small voice in the back of her mind was calling to her; willing Glinda to recall the words that were spoken in a darker, distant place.
Are you looking for the Familiar, or are you looking for the Unknown?
She slowly closed the book.
Strangely enough, there was a kind of pattern in the rough and scattered cracks along its covered binding. Perhaps it could be said that day that Glinda saw the patterns of her own life coming together in the tears and bends that rent its surface. For one who had never been fond of introspection, it was somehow fitting that she was now consumed by it.
In the hours that followed, even until the sun descended behind the far horizon, Glinda sat fixed by the window, staring out into the empty void that had suddenly become her fate. After folding herself within a soft blanket and leaning her head against the cold windowpane, the last of her tears dried with a promise that she would never sleep again.