The Living and the Dead
For who was in thrall to whom, really? And could it ever be known?
(…) And while you learn, the deadly icicle, formed by all opposing forces,
falls and drives its cold nail into penetrable flesh.
-Wicked, 326
When the day eventually began in the rustling of students, minders, and so forth, there was nothing to suggest that Glinda herself was unduly altered. She went about her morning routine with typical calm exactness, even though she couldn't put much enthusiasm into anything. Dressing and grooming for breakfast seemed to go by quicker than usual, possibly because Elphaba wasn't there, removing all distraction. Glinda of course had nothing of an appetite or any desire to leave, but she had promised Elphaba some weeks ago that she would make an effort to eat more regularly.
She made her way over to the campus dining area before half of Crage Hall was even awake. It was a dreary day, which suited her mood, but she was grateful at least that there wasn't any rain. It would have troubled her even more, knowing that Elphaba was caught in it somewhere on the road to Tarkington. As she settled near her window with a cup of tea in her lap, she looked out over the campus grounds and thought of her dream again.
What could it mean in the maddening spectrum of her already maddening life? Was it poison? Was it prophecy? How could she be certain? Such thoughts unsettled her mind. But she did her best to push them back, knowing that it was futile to dwell on the undefined.
After finishing her tea with a few bites of toast (neither with any eagerness) she returned to her rooms back at Crage Hall to call on Nanny and Nessarose. They were set to attend an early mass at the Unionist chapel in town, where attendance was generally rather sparse on cold Saturday mornings. Glinda wasn't up for much conversation on the way there, except to say that Elphaba was ill and didn't wish to be bothered by anyone. Nanny snorted in plain satisfaction, as if she thought it served Elphaba right for behaving so rudely the previous day. Nessa, on the other hand, looked skeptically at Glinda, but she chose to say nothing on the subject. In fact, she had chosen to say as little to Glinda as was respectfully possible.
They were favored that morning with a lifeless sermon on raising money for a new chapel roof. Their current covering had long been spoiled by rot and inclement weather. It wasn't very damning, or interesting for that matter, but Nessa still listened with rapt attention while Nanny sat snoring on the other side of her. Glinda, for her part, had become rather fixated on a pair sitting in front of them. It was an Ama and her charge leaning together in a tender, comfortable manner. A pretty young girl with a powder-blue frock; her little arm tucked in her Ama's. It was a portrait of simple and understated affection— beautiful for its sincerity. They created the most charming picture, if one felt so inclined to paint them. They whispered secrets, they tickled each other, and Glinda watched them until her heart nearly constricted from the pain.
When the meeting was over, the girls briefly separated to voice their respective prayers to the saints. Glinda found an ikon of the frail Saint Sonoma that was hidden away near the back. Her flame struck the wick of a slim charmwax candle, and in her heart she fervently prayed that Elphaba would be all right. She went to light a second candle for her Ama Clutch, but the match snuffed out in an unforeseen breeze, momentarily chilling her.
She didn't try to light it again.
They returned to Crage Hall sometime before eleven in a gust of wind and leaves. Nanny suggested that the girls freshen up before meeting in the buttery for tea. She escorted Nessa up to their room with Glinda following a few steps behind. But instead of accompanying them up to their rooms, Glinda turned right towards the lavatories.
Most of the students were up and about, essentially leaving the building deserted. Glinda nervously entered the room, not wholly sure if she actually preferred to be in there alone. This wasn't the same place that she had seen him, but the similarities were every bit as unsettling. She walked over to the sink to start the water running and did everything in her power to avoid her reflection.
But it wasn't Temen that she feared she might see, as strange as the thought might have been. He was merely a phantom; a shadow in her mind. Possibly a ghost…or a hallucination. Glinda, however, was entirely too real, and so were each of her sins.
Unable to fight the pull any longer, she finally looked up and stared at herself in the dirty glass of the mirror. Never in her life had she regarded her reflection with so much unguarded disgust. She had scrutinized her subtle imperfections before, but she'd never really examined the person staring back at her—the true countenance within.
Glinda the Good. Glinda the Evil. Which one was she, really?
The door to the room suddenly flew open, and a group of students trampled in. They were laughing and chattering with great animation, and among the group were Pfannee and Shenshen.
"Why look, Miss Pfannee!" exclaimed a Munchkin girl in a pert and saucy manner. "It's your dear and depraved Miss Glinda! Aren't you going to say hello?"
"Is it right that you're here by yourself, dear thing?" a hard-faced Glikkun girl asked. "After all, we don't want you doing yourself a harm—or pushing us out of the window."
Mocking laughter followed her remark as they all crowded around the mirrors to better examine themselves. Shenshen, however, remained standing near the doorway, hiding an embarrassed expression and unwilling to look at Glinda.
"Oh, don't be so rude," cried another girl's voice in a playful, cheerful manner. "If you upset the poor thing, she'll just try to hurt herself. Or worse, she'll sic her lover on you."
"Where is the vile green thing anyway?" said the Glikkun girl again. "I haven't seen hide or hair of the beast since she stormed out of Nikidik's lecture yesterday."
"But didn't you hear?" said Pfannee with a laugh as she strolled into one of the stalls. "Miss Elphie is sick today—and who could really blame her? If it isn't her skin that's making her nauseous, it's her highly psychotic roommate."
"How would you know if Miss Elphaba was sick? She's already green all over!"
They each of them laughed more loudly than before, gaining in sharp-tongued cruelty. Glinda stood motionless in front of the mirror, her face a mask of apathy.
"Would you all hurry up?" said Shenshen irately, still refusing to take part in their mirth. She hadn't said a word since they'd entered the room, though she did manage the occasional glance in Glinda's direction. "Milla is going to think we've abandoned her. We're late enough as it is."
"You're entirely too impatient," the Munchkin girl giggled while powdering her nose in the mirror. "Perhaps we should invite Miss Glinda to keep you company if you insist on being so queer."
"Well don't do that," someone cried at the back. "She'll drag along the pious chit who hasn't any arms!"
"Oh Lurline, don't even speak of her. The girl makes me shudder more violently than the green one. How can a single family breed so much horror? I think Dr. Nikidik should study them all—find out their genetic imbalance."
"I wonder if their mother is a coarse shade of emerald… or something close to jade."
"Either that or she had it with an Elf that was missing both of his legs."
The girls continued to laugh at their cleverness while trading lipsticks and compacts. Glinda remained standing at the sink, still regarding her reflection.
"I'm tired of waiting," said Shenshen with a sneer. "I'm going down to the gardens. You can meet me there with the others if you like, but we won't be waiting long."
"We're coming!" they cried in eager frustration as they began shuffling out. "They're still going to be there, you silly idiot! It's not like they'd leave without us."
The last of their protests and anxious squeals died down as the door swung closed. Glinda was as still as a statue. The water continued to run.
The sound of the commode was heard behind her, echoing across the room. Pfannee quickly exited the stall and stepped over to the sink beside her. She spared a glance in Glinda's direction, her look a mixture between arrogance and pity. She turned on the sink and began washing her hands while checking her reflection in the mirror.
"What a shame that we've come to this," she said with a labored sigh. She dried her hands on a nearby towel and began primping her curls. "After all the time we've spent together, it's really quite the tragedy. But I think I should tell you, at least as a friend, that this… act… this disease…whatever you've made up hasn't done you a bit of good. If you insist on ruining your reputation, well…that's entirely your own business. But try not to drag Miss Elphaba down with you. She's tragic enough as it is."
She gave Glinda a superior look, then made to head towards the door.
"I couldn't…" said Glinda, hardly above a whisper but loud enough for her to hear.
Pfannee turned. "I beg your pardon?"
"I couldn't drag her down," she replied, turning away from the mirror. "And neither could you, Miss Pfannee, no matter how hard we tried. We made every effort to mock and ridicule her, absurdly believing that it was in our power to tear Miss Elphaba down. But she wasn't so easily defeated, nor is she the vile monster that you'd like to imagine her to be."
Pfannee appeared stunned by her words, and as well she might considering that Glinda had not spoken to the girl in well over a month. Glinda regarded her with a look of resignation coupled with abject disgust
"You think yourself superior to me now, and I have no wish to contest that. I know perfectly well what I am, Miss Pfannee—a vain and foolish little creature with no more worth than a Quadling estate. I'm the simple daughter of a Pertha miller whose wealth was mostly inherited. What note or distinction my name even holds is entirely on my mother's side, and hardly that impressive to speak of. I am nothing of substance… beauty without meaning… and for you, Miss Pfannee, it's very much the same. For all that we have, and all we were given, we could never touch the remarkable character of a girl whose skin is green.
"Miss Elphaba is everything you'll never be, or could ever hope to become. Her heart is greater than any empire, and stronger than your words. Consider the boys—they're completely devoted to her. Elphaba is beauty with meaning. It's the only kind that has any worth, and it's taken me a lifetime to understand that."
She took a step towards Pfannee then, closing the space between them. Pfannee was literally pale with indignation, but she couldn't find the words to respond.
"She's better than you," said Glinda softly, "and she's better than me as well. Elphaba has captivated the world around us with little to no effort. And when you're married to a fool who showers you with diamonds and screaming children, Elphaba is going to be changing the world. Her name will become legend." Glinda smiled a little sadly, and leaned in closer still. "People like us only wish our lives mattered, or that our skin was half so green. Our stories will long be forgotten, Miss Pfannee— that is our only legacy."
She placed a hand on Pfannee's cheek with cold, invented tenderness. "We are not friends, if ever we were. You wouldn't know the meaning of it."
She let her hand fall and turned out of the room, not waiting for Pfannee to respond.
Glinda was calm, if not deeply troubled, as she slowly walked over to Nessa's room. Just as she was about to knock, she paused in contemplation. Nanny and Nessa would be waiting for her, or might even have left if they thought Glinda was already downstairs.
But there was still something she had yet to do, and she couldn't avoid it any longer.
With a deep breath and a glance down the hall, she made up her mind in silent resignation. After descending the stairs and stepping out of the building, she turned into the wind and headed in the direction of the Sibelius Felque Infirmary.
Miss Glinda Arduenna was a girl of many accomplishments, which typically came as a shock to no one. She was extraordinarily beautiful and respectfully wealthy, which seemed to qualify as something of an accomplishment to her fondest, stupidest admirers. But beneath it all there was depth to her character, and a great deal of courage to be found. Glinda, of course, would be the last person to say that she was brave in any situation, but everything in her life contradicted this modesty with startling affirmation.
It had taken courage to board the train that would carry her to Shiz from Frottica. She was the first girl there to accomplish such a feat, and the town had celebrated her for it.
It had taken courage to explore academic accomplishment when most young women of her age and standing had chosen to marry early. With wealth and affluence, education was unnecessary, but Glinda knew that school was important. It wasn't enough for her to marry a viscount of some wealthy, gigantic estate. She wanted to prove that she could do anything, and she wanted her parents to be proud of her.
It had taken courage to befriend Elphaba, as complicated as the process had been for them. Elphaba had startled her. Upset her. Even frightened her. And now the most frightening thing was the thought of losing her forever.
But as she stood standing in the middle of Ama Clutch's room inside of the infirmary, Glinda was forced to summon every ounce of courage that she still had left in her.
There wasn't much to draw from.
Ama Clutch was stretched on the mattress in a catatonic state, possibly drugged with heavy medications or in a demented stupor. Glinda nervously took the seat beside her, feeling as shy and timid as if she were five years old again. She reached for her hand, which was cold and clammy, and slowly wrapped her fingers around it.
"I neglected to finish my breakfast this morning," she said with a soft smile. "Are you very angry with me?"
Ama Clutch was completely unresponsive, but Glinda continued undeterred.
"I think you could hardly blame me, dearest. Their selection today was dreadful. The toast was all burnt, the persimmons were bruised, and the tea was… far too weak." She stopped when she caught the tremble in her voice, and took a breath to regain her composure. "It's not quite as rich as you used to make it, and never nearly as sweet."
A single tear trickled down her cheek, but Glinda chose to ignore it as she leaned in slightly closer. "Winter is nearly on its way here, and mother wants us to return home for Lurlinemas. She's quite concerned that you haven't recovered, and is threatening to come up and fetch you herself. We both know that she would, dear Ama, so you'd better prepare yourself."
The smile that Glinda favored her with was sad and painfully cheerless. She smoothed a strand of sweaty hair away from her Ama's brow.
"Elphie thinks that we might find a cure for you," she said in a quieter voice. "She believes that we're victims of some terrible plot, but I'm not so sure, my darling. I'm not sure of anything at all."
Tears had formed at the corner of her eyes, and she was starting to lose her composure. Her lip began quivering, and she bowed her head— in shameful, horrible guilt.
"You always told me what a good girl I was, even if it wasn't true," she whimpered. "Everyone believed I was something I wasn't. Nobody ever knew."
Her voice caught on the last word she spoke, and she laid her head down on the mattress. "Oh darling," she whispered, "just what am I? What wickedness is there within me? I don't want to be evil. I don't want to hurt anyone! I just want so desperately to be good."
She pressed her cheek against Ama Clutch's hand, moistening her skin with her tears. The hand was lifeless, and thin to the touch, but it comforted Glinda just the same. She breathed in deeply, trying to calm down, and her gaze suddenly grew distant.
"I think of Temen," she quietly continued, "and of all that I lost when he died. I picture his laugh, and his beautiful face, and I wonder, Ama... I wonder what might have been… if I had died instead."
She lightly traced her Ama's arm with cool, pale fingertips. "If I could take it all back, would I be able do it? Is anyone truly that strong? I see you suffering in this cursed bed, and I wish with every ounce of my heart that I could right this somehow. But I don't think that I'm strong enough, Ama. I'm not… I'm…"
The words finally died in her throat as Glinda collapsed in anguish. Her tears had drained all of the strength from her, but she refused to hold them back. She pressed her face into the bed-linen and helplessly, soundlessly wept.
"Forgive me," she said in a small, sorrowed voice. "Forgive me for failing you, Ama."
There was nothing but silence left to disturb them, except for the sounds of shuffling staff members entering and exiting the room. Glinda remained resting beside her Ama's bedside, knowing it did no good to remain but heartsick at the thought of leaving. Her chest rose and fell with every shallow breath, and her heart was beating heavily.
The slender hand beneath her cheek slowly stirred to life. Glinda quickly looked up to see her Ama gazing down at her with warm and honest affection. She gently touched Glinda's face with cold and trembling fingers, running over the moistened streaks left by Glinda's tears.
"My little one," her Ama murmured. "My cherished little Galinda."
Her eyes were wide and perfectly clear as the madness briefly parted. She beckoned Glinda closer to her, and Glinda anxiously obeyed.
"When day turns to night," she quietly whispered, "and the tower rises before you, remember to carry the lamp by your side and take nothing with you. I love you always. Stay close to the wind until the time is right. The hour hastens for good and for evil. Watch for her when she comes."
Tarkington was the last of the major industrial cities near Shiz, located just off the eastern side of the great Gillikin River. The majority of Oz's nickel refineries were housed in the city center, and lent the place a disagreeable stench that Elphaba didn't especially care for. Though the city itself was a monochromatic scheme of hard metallic bronzes, she managed to blend in well with her surroundings in spite of her conspicuous skin. Pulling her scarf up high over her face, she turned down another cobbled street crowded with merchants and factory workers. Few people paid any notice to the tall figure lost in the throng of the mid-day commute, which Elphaba might have appreciated had she not been quite so lost herself.
She had been given an address from a local peddler, who luckily seemed more interested in the coins she offered than the motives behind her inquiries. Unfortunately, the directions he gave weren't expressly detailed so much as they were vague instructions on how to locate a non-descript hovel within the city proper. It was almost impossible to discern which direction she was meant to be traveling in. The streets were built on an impractical (and unbearably frustrating) grid. Elphaba was convinced that she'd circled the same set of buildings half a dozen times. Would it have killed these people to put some sort of distinguishable feature on anything?
A horse and cart pulled up to the main thoroughfare, and the driver called out to the passengers within that they had reached Khen Street. Elphaba quickly looked down at the paper in her hand where KHEN STREET was scribbled above a list of instructions.
Praise for the miracle, she muttered under her breath while pocketing the note once again. She quickly turned left and headed up the street, avoiding a troupe of rowdy children that scuttled past in the opposite direction. At least she was making progress.
The weather thankfully had also been fine, if not unseasonably chill. Elphaba was worried that she might be forced to contend with rain, but the sky above was bright and cloudless. Weak sunlight shimmered across the windows of every building, lending them a subtle beauty that was otherwise non-existent. Every structure was purely functional, holding nothing in the way of interesting design or remarkable aesthetic value.
Glinda would be horrified, she thought with a smirk, then quickly shut that out of her mind. She couldn't think of her roommate right now. That wouldn't do at all. Of course, it was every bit as ridiculous to tell herself not to think of Glinda when that's all that Elphaba could think about. Thoughts of her safety were constantly distracting her, which was as annoying as it was inevitable. Was Glinda with Nessarose? Was she out of harms way? What was she doing at the moment?
Elphaba crashed into a squat Glikkun tradesman who swore at her for her clumsiness. She pulled her hood down and quickly shuffled past him, not in the least bit concerned about whatever damage she'd caused. By the Unnamed God, she thought to herself, I'm turning into Boq. It was a very humiliating thing to consider, so she pushed that thought out as well.
Granted, there were far worse things that Elphaba had fallen victim to than the beguiling charms of her friend. Her current obsession with dear Miss Glinda was the least of her problems in comparison to the very serious dangers they faced. What would they do once Glinda was cured? What if the cure didn't work at all? Elphaba was confident that Madame Morrible was still ignorant of their game, and yet there was a curious sense of unease that plagued her every step.
It wasn't just the thought of having to leave Glinda behind. It was the frightened look she had seen that morning in her roommate's startled eyes. There was something in that forget-me-not blue that spoke of horrors beyond the veil of nightmares, poison, or murder. Glinda's anxiety for both her and Elphaba was something entirely different. And while it wasn't in Elphaba's nature to second-guess her actions, she couldn't help but silently wonder if she'd made the right decision.
Was this a trap she had willingly walked into? Had she been right in leaving? She'd spent the entire night mulling it over, weighing every decision carefully while Glinda slept in her arms. She could have asked Fiyero to go in her stead; he would have been more than willing to do it. But at some point within the past month or so, she had made this a personal matter between her and Madame Morrible. This was her victory—her triumph to be wrought for Glinda, Dillamond, and Ama Clutch. Besides, she wasn't sure if she trusted Fiyero to find precisely what she needed. This business of cures and chemical drafts was much more complicated than she'd thought. There was no way of telling how far along the toxin had advanced, or if the damage was even reparable.
Get that out of your mind, she hissed. It wouldn't do any good to dwell on that either.
From out of the blue and amidst the noise of the bustling crowds, a door slammed open several shops in front of her and startled the commuters nearby. A Badger dressed in a tattered pin-suit was tossed roughly out onto the pavement. He landed awkwardly on his front right paw, possibly even breaking it. The proprietor of the establishment followed him out, dangerously wielding a large metal bar in his hand.
"Clear off you sodding fleabag!" he snarled with violent intent. "You take your kind to the dumps out back where the rest a' you beasts belong. I oughta split your mangy hide and feed it to the rats!"
A large group of people had gathered around to witness the hostile exchange. The Badger was crumpled at the foot of the stairs, nursing his bleeding paw like an animal. A few people laughed, though most of them watched with a look of perfect disgust. The proprietor kicked him squarely in the chest, and the Badger shrieked in pain.
Elphaba stepped forward with wide-eyed horror, but barely managed to stop herself. You can't… she seethed in heated anger while forcing herself back into the crowd. You'll just draw unwanted attention to yourself. Remember—you're here for Glinda…
But her steely nerve was quickly smoldering into searing, blinding rage. She watched with fury as a group of policeman broke through the crowds and roughly dragged the wounded Badger away. Why weren't they even questioning him? What was the offense? The injustice of the situation sickened her beyond reason, but hell and Oz, what was she to do about it? This was neither the time nor the place.
When is it the time? she said to herself. Or have you given up on everything that once had any meaning to you at all?
Elphaba's eyes narrowed at the thought, and her hands clenched into fists. Damn Madame Morrible. Damn this whole cursed city.
But more importantly, damn herself.
With quiet and careful malevolence, she strode towards the open shop that the Badger had been thrown out of. But just as the cries of anarchy tore through her, a whisper of a beautiful voice slipped quietly into her senses.
Will you always be there to save me, Elphaba?
Always, Elphaba had replied. More than that, she'd meant it.
She slowly looked down at her gloved fist and the directions held within it. Glinda was poisoned. Glinda was waiting. She needed Elphaba now. Her righteous indignation would just have to be saved for another day and time. So she passed by the shop and hurried along, unable to regret her decision.
After wandering the cobbled streets of the city for another half an hour, Elphaba finally caught sight of a narrow alley that housed a variety of smoke shops. She looked down at the note in her hand and nodded with grim success. Supposedly this was where she would find her capable (if crooked) alchemist. At least that was her hope. She ambled between the shadows of the buildings, avoiding the blind cigarette sellers and prostitutes for hire. The place reeked of sex and urine and cheap foreign tobacco. It wasn't the worst place Elphaba had ever been, but she was properly disgusted nontheless.
Some ways down and lost in the muck, a shack rose up that had no windows or signs of any kind. It was a boxed up hovel, sad and indiscreet on the opposite side of a Munchkin ale house. Elphaba hesitantly stepped towards the entrance with more than a little apprehension. Either she would find her healer, or a band of rogues that would anxiously take turns murdering, beating, or violating her. Possibly in that order. She knocked on the door then took a step back, unsure of what might greet her.
A window slid back on the oakhair entry, and the haggard face of a spindly old crone peered out from behind it. She was a miserable sight with a long crooked nose and more gums than teeth.
"Who is this that comes a-knocking so early at my door?" she hooted. One of her eyes was spoiled by cataracts, forcing her to squint up at Elphaba.
"A traveler in need of your notable services," was Elphaba's diffident reply. She didn't know what was more unsavory—the hovel or the creature within it.
"Well bless me!" the crone said in a high, gravely voice. "What an unusual find. Here's a stealthy Quadling character mucking about our Gillikin grime. And yet there's a hint of Munchkinlander on that tongue of yours. Tell me, deary, what you're abouts and what I'm fixed to do for you."
Elphaba shifted nervously to the side, but held her chin up higher. "A curative draft for a case of poisoning—specifically an organic compound."
The spindled gypsy clicked her tongue and turned her head at an angle. "Chemical curses? That's quite the riot. But this is indeed the right place. We've all sorts of mixtures and medicinal drafts here to cure the cruelest of ills. But nothing comes cheap, my dear little duck. It'll cost you something pretty." Her smile grew wider, and it chilled the blood beneath Elphaba's skin.
Elphaba reached into her coin purse and held up a gold sovereign. "I pay with gold of Gillikin quality, which I'm sure will suit you well. If you're after something of a sordid nature, then I'll skin you a Munchkin to decorate your door."
The gypsy let out a ferocious cackle and slammed the window shut. A few seconds later, the multiple locks on the side clicked open, and the door was pulled inward. Elphaba peered into the deep, dank entrance and saw the crone standing before her in a swathe of tattered cloaks. One hand rested on a hornwood cane, the other was tucked neatly in the pocket of her skirts.
"A little gold is a pleasant thing, and will get you a long ways yet," she grinned. "As to the skinning, I have no sordid needs beyond preserving this body for another season. Well, well, lovey, come on in… don't stand there looking so shy. Pull up a chair, tell me your troubles, and let's see what old Yackle will do for you."
As daylight faded to early evening in the swirling mists of twilight, Glinda tucked herself into bed, but she refused to sleep that night.
If her body had felt even the slightest trace of exhaustion, her mind would never permit her to drift anywhere near unconsciousness. The tangle of emotions that had plagued her all day preyed heavily upon her senses. It made it impossible to feel any semblance of calm, or quiet her restless nerves. Morning was still a far ways off, and the night was only beginning.
She pulled Elphaba's blankets more tightly around her, hoping against hope that something of her roommate still lingered within them. It wasn't that Glinda was solely afraid of the demons that bled at the edge of her consciousness. The threat of physical violence, however prevalent it remained, was a distant concern in light of the warnings her Ama and the Woman had given her. What was there in the substance of dreams to be taken as omen or prophecy? Who wanted her dead? Who would be coming after her?
Who is the author of your tragedy?
The hollow moan of a northern breeze broke through the stillness of the room. She turned her face into Elphaba's pillow, wanting nothing more than to be smothered by it.
In spite of every intention to be restrained, her mind took her to horrifying places strewn with the cold, corrupted ashes of gruesome memories past. If she closed her eyes, if she silenced her thoughts, she could still the tide of these painful images for a few blessed seconds. All of her nightmares would cease to exist, and nothing would be real. The burning fires... the blackened stain… the quiet laughter of a child. Everything would fade into perfect numbness, finally dulling the incessant ache of her long-tormented spirit.
But even then, even then… the faces were still there, grinning at her with hideous smiles devoid of light or feeling. They would gnash their teeth and cruelly accuse her while carving her sins in her flesh. She would cry and pull back, but they always remained, these twisted faces of guilt. She tried to shut them out of her mind, just as she struggled to drown out the maddening sounds of her room. The wind that shuddered through the desolate trees… the horrible ticking of the clock…
But the Other was there at the edge of the woods, waiting for her… waiting…
But for what?
A drop of poison. A violent spell. A room consumed by fire. Death or life; what remained to be bled from her mind, her body, and her soul.
Glinda's fingers carefully gripped the thin edge of the blankets. The voices she heard were equally as cruel as the claws that raked her skin. You are evil… they would softly hiss, grinding their horrible teeth together. She shut her eyes tightly, willing them away, and it brought on the presence of tears.
If only she could find oblivion. If only she were good.
The world is evil, my darling young thing, and we are its finest creations.
Glinda twisted beneath the covers while shivering in agony. She was frightened, conflicted, and full of darkness. The pain was blinding and horrible.
A hand suddenly pressed against her shoulder, causing her body to freeze.
"Glinda?"
It was just a simple word, barely above a whisper, but it was all that she'd longed to hear.
The covers were thrown back almost immediately before Glinda's arms were around Elphaba's neck in a clinging, forceful hold. Joy and elation flooded her heart and nearly came close to stopping it. Glinda whispered a prayer of thanks to every deity she could think of. That Elphaba was here— right here with her now— was too much for her to take in. She couldn't hold back the tiny sob that was muffled in Elphaba's cloak, nor could she stop her body from trembling regardless of how tightly Elphaba held her.
"You're here," Glinda sobbed, wanting to say so many things yet unsure of where to begin. She was desperately trying to keep her tears from falling, lest they burn the skin that had become so precious to her. "You weren't to return till morning…"
"Hush," Elphaba whispered, holding her more tightly. "Come… hush, my pretty. Are you going to let me catch my breath, or do you intend to strangle me?" But Elphaba made no effort to be free of her, nor did she think to let go of Glinda herself. They embraced each other as if they had been separated for years, much less a single day. For Glinda, it may as well have been one and the same as she clung so fiercely to Elphaba. Poisoned or cursed…good or evil… she was never going to let this girl out of her sight again.
It was only after some considerable time that Elphaba managed to briefly pull back to better examine Glinda.
"Has anything happened?" she asked a bit anxiously while cupping her face in her hands.
"Nothing," said Glinda, shaking her head. "Nothing happened at all. Oh Elphie, how were you able to return? I wasn't expecting you till tomorrow!"
"By another stroke of remarkably good luck, I was able to catch the last coach out before the midday rush. Are you disappointed? Because if I had known, I'd have delayed my return and taken in a play; something cheap and scandalous."
But Glinda ignored her good-natured sarcasm and tightly embraced her again. "Just promise me that you're perfectly all right and you'll never leave me again."
Elphaba smiled into her neck and held her even tighter. "I'm right here, you foolish thing, and I'll never leave you again."
The moment was as close to bliss as Glinda had ever felt. She buried her face in Elphaba's neck and breathed in the scent of a cold, autumn evening. Elphaba's fingers slid through her hair, causing her heart to flutter. For a very long while the two simply held each other, reveling in the perfect sensation of being together once more.
Unfortunately, Elphaba was forced to disentangle when it had suddenly occurred to her why she had left in the first place. She pressed Glinda back and reached into the folds of her thick traveling cloak. What she produced was a small blue vial that looked practically antiquated.
"Drink this," said Elphaba firmly as she uncapped the bottle and placed it in Glinda's hand.
Glinda looked down at the strange milky substance, then glanced back up at her companion. "The cure?"
"There's only one way to find out."
Glinda nodded in quiet affirmation and took a calming breath. She didn't know why she should feel nervous; it was only a medicinal draft, after all. Even if Morrible hadn't poisoned her, it couldn't do any harm. She brought the vial cautiously to her lips, then quickly drained it down.
The contents had a curious flavor that Glinda wasn't expecting. The liquid was sweeter than saffron cream, and it warmed her blood exquisitely. A tingling sensation began in her ears and spread quickly down to her toes. It was soothing, enlivening, and almost overpowering. She felt as if she were floating.
Glinda fell back, practically in a faint, but Elphaba quickly caught her.
"Glinda?" said Elphaba nervously, swiftly pulling her closer. "Are you alright? Does it feel like it's working?"
"I feel…" she began while lost in the fog of the heady, sweetened drug. How did she feel? How could she describe it? All of her senses were wonderfully alive. Her body was lighter than Gillikinese silk; her heart was a steady thrum. The warm tangle of pleasant sensations had an almost dizzying effect on her, but she wasn't confused, or out of senses. Her mind was perfectly clear.
She looked over at Elphaba, half-hidden in the dark, a sculpture of green precision. She seemed more substantial than any dream or nightmare that Glinda had ever encountered. She felt the pressure of her friend's hands upon her, clutching Glinda as if she might fall. Little did Elphaba realize that Glinda had fallen a long time ago.
Her gaze met and held her companion's beneath the veil of darkness. And that's when she knew— or completely understood the immensity of what she felt.
"Clarity…" she whispered in candid sincerity while straightening in Elphaba's arms. She gently leaned forward and pressed their heads together, bringing them only inches apart. Was there such a thing as being too close to another human being? Glinda didn't think she could get close enough. Her hand slid down the plane of Elphaba's neck and stopped over a racing pulse-point. The blood was thrumming, pounding in her veins. Elphaba was so alive. Her journey continued a little further, sliding cautiously over bone and collar before rounding the curve of a breast.
Here was the center of all creation. Here was Elphaba's heart.
Her roommate sat there still as a statue, seemingly unable to breathe or move. But life was in her— surrounding her— becoming her; a celestial wonder hidden beneath Glinda's trembling hand.
"Do you know who you are?" she whispered softly, studying the form beneath Elphaba's cloak. "Do you know what you are… to me… to my heart? How every inch of me longs to know you… and to have you with me... always…"
She moved her hand back up Elphaba's neck, sliding along a firm jaw-line and slowly over her lips. She pressed the tips of her fingers against them, marveling at their softness.
"My beautiful Elphaba," Glinda whispered with the faintest smile.
Elphaba looked lost. Scared. Uncertain. Her breath was warm beneath Glinda's fingertips. Glinda moved closer, her gaze never wavering, wanting to feel that warmth—that life— as completely as she could. Neither could fully grasp what was happening, and perhaps they didn't want to. The only sounds to penetrate the darkness were the whispers of labored breathing. Up close, Elphaba looked wild and gorgeous, more extraordinary than any creature in the Unnamed God's creation.
Glinda placed the ghost of a kiss where her fingers had left. Her lips touched Elphaba's with the slightest pressure and warmly in their intent. It was only a moment, too delicate to be realized, but its intensity was enough to burn her. She was unprepared for the temperate contact, and it stole the breath right out of her.
It had been strange. Intimate. Frighteningly perfect.
Glinda wanted more.
When their lips met again for the second time, the kiss was more substantial—less reserved. Her hands slid back behind Elphaba's neck and gently pulled her forward. Elphaba hesitated for a fraction of a second, but a second was all she could spare. She gradually melted into Glinda's embrace while drawing her even closer. They experienced this intimacy with captive appreciation; the touch, the taste, the feel of the other. It was all too quickly becoming a craving, and green hands slid along Glinda's arms before lightly pushing them back.
"Glinda…" she stammered in the thick haze of passion while fighting for strength or control. But her words were silenced by another searing kiss as Glinda enveloped her once more. They were captured within the marvel of each other, dangling at the edge of restraint. Driven with need for closer contact, Glinda slid into Elphaba's lap and wrapped a leg around her waist.
"Say you could love me," she frantically whispered between their fevered kisses. "Tell me that I'm worth loving, Elphaba. Tell me you think I'm good."
Had Elphaba been in a right frame of thinking, it's highly possible she could have responded with a sound and sensible reply. But with Glinda's body pressed wantonly against hers, there was little chance that Miss Elphaba Thropp was capable of thinking at all. She was a wispy fern struggling against the current of a raging river, but Glinda was far more dangerous than water, and far more persistent as well.
It may have been the first time in her life that Elphaba wanted to drown.
"You…" she panted with heaving effort when Glinda allowed her some air. "You… Glinda… I…"
But she couldn't finish the thought. Not when Glinda's mouth was tasting the heated skin at her neck.
They kissed again with reckless abandon, seemingly unable to stop. Lips and fingers grew bolder as they continued their feverish exploration of each other. Elphaba's hands drifted dangerously over the curves of Glinda's nightgown. Glinda's kisses became more suggestive—more urgent in their devotion. Of all of the lackluster intimacies she had known in her brief and amateur lifetime, nothing could compare to the beauty and mystery that was here in Elphaba's arms. Every touch sent her heart racing. Every kiss was devouring her.
But it wasn't enough. It wasn't everything. Glinda still thirsted for more.
Her fingers quickly reached for the buttons at the front of Elphaba's dress. That, if anything, was enough to rouse Elphaba and bring her back to her senses. She took Glinda's face none-too-gently in her hands and roughly forced them apart. It left only enough space between them to allow Elphaba a mouthful of air.
"Don't ask me for this…" she violently hissed, her eyes blazing with desire. "If we start this now, we can never go back. All is changed forever."
Glinda was breathing in shallow gasps and her gaze burned into Elphaba's. Whether in defiance or perfect acceptance, she pulled Elphaba forward and kissed her more deeply than she'd ever kissed her before. If this was madness, or a dark oblivion, Glinda never wanted to be free of it.
"Never," she breathed with heated fervor. "We're never going back."
The words were more potent than any binding spell; more real than any specter. The force of their meaning tore through each of them, startling them both in a moment of wonder. Whether they lived a hundred years or died at that very moment, nothing between them could ever be the same. All had changed forever.
Was this existence? The nativity of the soul? Where did it begin or end? Something powerful had awakened in them both; older than time or the story itself. It was frightening. It was beautiful. It was an experience unlike anything that either had ever known. If Elphaba or Glinda had truly lived before then, it was only a half-life serving to stir the mortal clay they had been fashioned from.
But here in this room, in the clearness of gazes that looked beyond what was mortal, there was vibrancy. Truth. A revelation.
Life… in its purist, most unfathomable form.
Elphaba's thumb brushed over Glinda's lips. The gesture was tender. Reverent.
Glinda's eyes closed at the touch, and she prepared herself for oblivion.
Fate was decided from that moment on; completely and utterly changed.
Elphaba and Glinda had found each other.
They were never going back again.
All that was left was lost to the darkness in the endless hours that followed. They came together with passionate violence, moving as one as silks and scarves were scattered carelessly over the floor. There was no hesitation; no modesty or shyness—only a yearning to possess the other before want consumed them both.
Glinda sought every inch of green that moved and pressed against her, and Elphaba was equally as impassioned to savor Glinda's body in turn. Words were abandoned in the muted poetry of lips, hands, and tongues; symphonies woven and perfected upon the planes of the other's skin. Their youthful inexperience failed to hinder them, but drove each maddening discovery. Frustration only enlivened their ardor: torture of an exquisite variety.
The light of the moon warmly embraced them amidst the surrounding darkness. They were learning, devouring, and slowly becoming… but what, it was uncertain. The bed was the canvas they painted on with an array of pinks and greens; sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, and always with constant need. They rose and fell again and again, surrendering everything that remained of themselves to the night and to each other. And with every breath and trembling shudder, there came the thought that they could go on holding each other forever.
But the hands that touched and adored Glinda were the most startling revelation of all. They felt nothing like fear, or pain, or death… and everything like love.