No One Mourns the Wicked
Characters: Elphaba, Spin
Content: Following the Seymour incident. The Witch of the West has lost control and is devoured by grief. Spin brings her back.
Location: the streets of southwestern Manhattan
Time of day: Nightfall
Warnings: ANGST!, magic, singing, Tri attempting to come up with lyrics
Elphaba flew through the streets of Manhattan, occasional streetlights flickering out or exploding as she passed them, trees snapping in two and mailboxes warping, now only twisted pieces of metal on the ground. Her magic had ceased being a tool and become a physical manifestation of everything she felt, forced upon her surroundings. Never in her life had the witch lost control so badly, but she scarcely noticed any of it.
Isn't it nice to know
That good will conquer evil?
The truth we all believe'll by and by
Outlive a lie
It was a liiiiiiiiie!
"And I believed it." Every word, every note, that fell from her lips was tainted with anger and bitterness.
Do you think I want to be this way
That I wanted to care this much?
Do you know how much easier my life would be
if my feelings were never touched?
I cannot turn myself to tin,
Though I once made it occur
So I never will be heartless
No matter what I might prefer!
As her voice shook on the final note of that verse, the spell on her broom failed, and she crashed to the ground, tumbling in a few warped somersaults before coming to rest with a gasp of pain. Blood fell in slow, tiny drops from scrapes on her arms and hands, her dress torn in several places.
"SEYMOOOOOOOOOOOUR!" she half-screamed, half-sang, her voice raw and agonized.
A ten or fifteen foot circumference around the witch was entirely bare, any debris flung beyond its boundaries by loss-driven power. In the center, she sprawled, lacking the motivation to take to the sky once more or even shift herself upright.
Content: Following the Seymour incident. The Witch of the West has lost control and is devoured by grief. Spin brings her back.
Location: the streets of southwestern Manhattan
Time of day: Nightfall
Warnings: ANGST!, magic, singing, Tri attempting to come up with lyrics
Elphaba flew through the streets of Manhattan, occasional streetlights flickering out or exploding as she passed them, trees snapping in two and mailboxes warping, now only twisted pieces of metal on the ground. Her magic had ceased being a tool and become a physical manifestation of everything she felt, forced upon her surroundings. Never in her life had the witch lost control so badly, but she scarcely noticed any of it.
Isn't it nice to know
That good will conquer evil?
The truth we all believe'll by and by
Outlive a lie
It was a liiiiiiiiie!
"And I believed it." Every word, every note, that fell from her lips was tainted with anger and bitterness.
Do you think I want to be this way
That I wanted to care this much?
Do you know how much easier my life would be
if my feelings were never touched?
I cannot turn myself to tin,
Though I once made it occur
So I never will be heartless
No matter what I might prefer!
As her voice shook on the final note of that verse, the spell on her broom failed, and she crashed to the ground, tumbling in a few warped somersaults before coming to rest with a gasp of pain. Blood fell in slow, tiny drops from scrapes on her arms and hands, her dress torn in several places.
"SEYMOOOOOOOOOOOUR!" she half-screamed, half-sang, her voice raw and agonized.
A ten or fifteen foot circumference around the witch was entirely bare, any debris flung beyond its boundaries by loss-driven power. In the center, she sprawled, lacking the motivation to take to the sky once more or even shift herself upright.