(Wicked, Elphaba/Galinda) A Question of Style
Another day, another fic. Bwahahaha. Yes. For fahye. <333
Title: A Question of Style
Author: crazylittleme @ vnilla
Fandom: Wicked
Pairing: Elphaba/Galinda
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Gregory Maguire wrote the book.
Author's Notes: For fahye, who is writing me Hamlet/Horatio in return. This is more based on the bookverse than the musical, however.
--
There was the issue of the dress, of course.
"Miss Elphie, if you'd please just try it on," Galinda wheedled, shaking the lovely off-white summer dress appealingly. "It's too long on me but will fit you just right, and anyway it has the most darling accents of apple green ribbon, I think that's what this paper says anyway, and you know it's a wretched shame that you never wear any pretty clothes!" She drew another breath, about to continue for several more paragraphs in this vein, but Elphaba cut her off with a gesture.
"It's your dress, not mine."
"So I can lend it to you if I like!" cried Galinda, whining now, and pouting for all she was worth, which was a great deal if you asked anyone who was anyone, at least in her opinion. "Elphie, you are behaving abominably, and I simply will not tolerate your refusal on grounds of basic human decency. You will wear this dress!"
"Isn't it peculiar," Elphaba mused, without taking the dress, "how the subtle bias against Animals exists even in common idioms? The 'basic human decency' one that you just used, for example. It implies that humans are the only beings capable of possessing decency of any sort."
"Well, you certainly haven't got any," Galinda sulked. "Prattling on and on about the same old things when you could have a wonderful new dress to try on instead. I don't think you love me at all!"
"Is your love so conditional? Miss Galinda, I am disappointed in you. Unsurprised, yes, but also disappointed."
"At least try the dress on! I promise you don't have to wear it around!"
"Stop stamping your foot like that, you'll break the heel off your shoe, which I happen to know is half of your favorite pair." Elphaba, conceding defeat for the sake of her sanity, accepted the frilly garment with some distaste. "Really, I think black is my color. Are these apple green ribbons meant to bring out the minty hues of my skin? Excuse me, I'm mixing my plant adjectives. But I do fear this will make me look like something to eat, all things considered."
"No one would want a dish so talkative," Galinda observed tartly, and Elphaba, pleased with the sudden bite to the conversation, began unbuttoning her shapeless dress.
"Oh my! Miss Elphie, your modesty!" Blushing, Galinda averted her eyes; though she knew other roommates undressed in front of each other, she had never done so in front of hers, and until now, Elphaba had returned the favor. Shouldn't she be concerned about revealing as little of that green skin as possible, anyway?
Said Elphaba, "I have no modesty. If I did, I'd hide myself behind a veil. Out of basic human decency, you might say. Fortunately, I have none of that, either, so I may frighten small children as I please."
"You have the ugliest underthings I have ever seen in my life," Galinda replied in horrified fascination, forgetting to look away.
"Yes, but I can move about in them, which is more than I can say for yours. Women's fashions are most peculiar, considering until recently Oz has been ruled by a line of women."
Galinda almost toppled over in her excitement, favorite shoes on or no. "Are you a feminist, Miss Elphie? You do hear peculiar things about the Quadlings but I never in a million years thought--"
"You never do think, that's the trouble," came the waspish retort. Elphaba yanked the dress over her head, looking annoyed. "Anyway, feminism flourished over a hundred years ago during the reign of Ozma the Sapphist, and the definition of that word I believe you are confusing with that of feminist. And it has nothing to do with Quadling Country, though I daresay that place has its own anomalies as well. Do you know anything about history?" She shoved her arms through the sleeves of the dress, though not violently enough to tear it, and then crossed them in front of her.
Disappointed at the lack of a good jolly scandal, Galinda nearly lost sight of the object of their previous contention. It was only after Elphaba adjusted the skirt and made a sniffy remark about looking like a marshmallow (minty and apple on top of that!) that she clapped her hands in delight and exclaimed, "Oh, the dress! How can you not say it isn't your color? You're a vision, a dream!"
"An illusion," Elphaba supplied, but she looked pleased nonetheless. "Well, do the ribbons bring out the apples in my cheeks? I'm dying to know."
"We must brush your hair," chirped Galinda, oblivious to any sarcasm; whenever she got excited about something Elphaba cared little for, they ended up having two entirely different conversations. A hairbrush was fetched and, sitting on the bed, Elphaba found herself the victim of sudden instant beautification.
"I envy your hair," Galinda confessed some moments later, voice all cotton candy clouds, with no substance of thought behind it. Her roommate sighed.
"You're a fool, then. Blondes are supposed to be the beauties."
"Yes, but if I had black hair I'd look mysterious."
"You would look washed out. You haven't the complexion for it."
"You're one to talk about complexions!"
Elphaba grinned, pushing Galinda away. "That's the spirit. I notice that whenever you begin to argue, your mind actually becomes engaged."
"I don't care to be made to think," Galinda said haughtily, pretty little nose in the air. "Anyway, there is an overemphasis on the process. Too much upsets one's inner balance and makes for poor digestion."
"Have you been sneaking philosophy again? You always seem to find the worst of the lot."
"That was my personal philosophy!" Offended, Galinda began to brush her own hair, agitated enough so she didn't realize she was in fact brushing all of the curls out of it. "Look at you, Miss Elphie. You think all the time and you're always desperately unhappy about something or other when you're not giving a lecture or making snide comments. If you stopped thinking and just acted like everybody else, you'd have a better time and certainly get more out of the university."
"Truly a novel approach to education. Life, however, will never be that easy for me. I'm sure I'll get over the tragedy of my existence at some point."
Galinda at last noticed her hair, now gone to frizzy golden waves. "Oh, damn it! And damn you! You don't even try to make life easier for yourself!"
"I'm wearing the dress," Elphaba observed mildly, "though I don't feel as though it has made my life any easier. I should think the opposite."
"Oh, take it off." Galinda felt disgusted with the universe, and turned to glare at Elphaba, who still looked amused about something. As if a nonexistent social life were something to be laughed at! Honestly, did the girl have any sort of plans for her future at all?
"I didn't realize you were a sapphist, Miss Galinda." Elphaba flopped onto her lap, arms outstretched, moved by humor into audacity. "Shall I kiss you?"
"Miss Elphaba!" the embarrassed victim of her joke shrieked, face burning. "I give you heartfelt advice and a dream of a dress and this is how you repay me and-- Yes, yes, do give me a kiss." Smug with the knowledge that no one would ever take up such a challenge, Galinda beamed down at the other girl. And even if she did try, she could always laugh over it with the others later. Or even use it as an excuse to switch to a private room! Madame Morrible would surely be concerned for her safety and moral fiber.
"All right," Elphaba answered, voice neutral, and she pulled Galinda down for a kiss, nearly getting her nose instead, as she had a lack of experience with this sort of thing. Galinda, who had plenty of experience, puckered up and sighed, waiting for the whole silly wet affair to be over with. Kisses were nothing to go into ecstasies over.
The kiss hung in pause for a few moments, neither party certain of the correct moment to start pulling away. Both sets of lips were soft and warm, though one was rather fuller than the other. Then both of them opened their mouths at the same time to say something--what she wanted to say Galinda never remembered, because suddenly there was a tongue in her mouth that didn't belong to her and the plan had gone all wrong--she couldn't laugh over this to her friends or report it to Madame Morrible because she was enjoying it, it was doing things to her. It was wonderful enough so that she almost didn't notice it was terrifying as well, and when Elphaba's hands strayed to the front of her dress she recoiled. A string of saliva trailed form her lip to Elphaba's, a fragile bridge. How ungenteel.
"I have concluded that I am not a sapphist," babbled Galinda, her voice high and strange. "Miss Elphaba, you may keep your dress on. You will in fact put another one over it! Basic human decency demands it. I demand it. Let's talk about philosophy now, or you can complain about society, or you can confuse me about good and evil and bore me with it at the same time. Let's do that, please, it sounds so entertaining right now. Let's do that, please."
"Galinda, you really are a fool." Elphaba's face was closed; she got off the bed and to her feet, already drawing up her ugly old dress, buttoning it over the pretty one as suggested. It was impossible to tell that another dress lurked underneath, all soft creamy color.
"I am wholly content to be a fool," Galinda agreed. Then, brightening: "My, that almost sounded like poetry! Not Poetry, though, because of course I haven't the brains or the talent." Her expression became wistful as Elphaba jammed her feet into her boots. "Elphie, do you think I'm awfully stupid? I'm sorry, really."
She looked so crestfallen that Elphaba had to say something. "You're not stupid. The trouble is you're a smart fool, Miss Galinda, and so you see mysteries and then upset them and then wonder why you've wound up with only smashed pieces. I'm going out. If I am gone tomorrow still, you may start making funeral arrangements and writing my biography. I'm sure you'll do a smashing job."
With that, Elphaba was gone, the door creaking shut after her. Galinda sat on the bed and persuaded herself out of bursting into tears. Then she set about re-curling her hair.
Title: A Question of Style
Author: crazylittleme @ vnilla
Fandom: Wicked
Pairing: Elphaba/Galinda
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Gregory Maguire wrote the book.
Author's Notes: For fahye, who is writing me Hamlet/Horatio in return. This is more based on the bookverse than the musical, however.
--
There was the issue of the dress, of course.
"Miss Elphie, if you'd please just try it on," Galinda wheedled, shaking the lovely off-white summer dress appealingly. "It's too long on me but will fit you just right, and anyway it has the most darling accents of apple green ribbon, I think that's what this paper says anyway, and you know it's a wretched shame that you never wear any pretty clothes!" She drew another breath, about to continue for several more paragraphs in this vein, but Elphaba cut her off with a gesture.
"It's your dress, not mine."
"So I can lend it to you if I like!" cried Galinda, whining now, and pouting for all she was worth, which was a great deal if you asked anyone who was anyone, at least in her opinion. "Elphie, you are behaving abominably, and I simply will not tolerate your refusal on grounds of basic human decency. You will wear this dress!"
"Isn't it peculiar," Elphaba mused, without taking the dress, "how the subtle bias against Animals exists even in common idioms? The 'basic human decency' one that you just used, for example. It implies that humans are the only beings capable of possessing decency of any sort."
"Well, you certainly haven't got any," Galinda sulked. "Prattling on and on about the same old things when you could have a wonderful new dress to try on instead. I don't think you love me at all!"
"Is your love so conditional? Miss Galinda, I am disappointed in you. Unsurprised, yes, but also disappointed."
"At least try the dress on! I promise you don't have to wear it around!"
"Stop stamping your foot like that, you'll break the heel off your shoe, which I happen to know is half of your favorite pair." Elphaba, conceding defeat for the sake of her sanity, accepted the frilly garment with some distaste. "Really, I think black is my color. Are these apple green ribbons meant to bring out the minty hues of my skin? Excuse me, I'm mixing my plant adjectives. But I do fear this will make me look like something to eat, all things considered."
"No one would want a dish so talkative," Galinda observed tartly, and Elphaba, pleased with the sudden bite to the conversation, began unbuttoning her shapeless dress.
"Oh my! Miss Elphie, your modesty!" Blushing, Galinda averted her eyes; though she knew other roommates undressed in front of each other, she had never done so in front of hers, and until now, Elphaba had returned the favor. Shouldn't she be concerned about revealing as little of that green skin as possible, anyway?
Said Elphaba, "I have no modesty. If I did, I'd hide myself behind a veil. Out of basic human decency, you might say. Fortunately, I have none of that, either, so I may frighten small children as I please."
"You have the ugliest underthings I have ever seen in my life," Galinda replied in horrified fascination, forgetting to look away.
"Yes, but I can move about in them, which is more than I can say for yours. Women's fashions are most peculiar, considering until recently Oz has been ruled by a line of women."
Galinda almost toppled over in her excitement, favorite shoes on or no. "Are you a feminist, Miss Elphie? You do hear peculiar things about the Quadlings but I never in a million years thought--"
"You never do think, that's the trouble," came the waspish retort. Elphaba yanked the dress over her head, looking annoyed. "Anyway, feminism flourished over a hundred years ago during the reign of Ozma the Sapphist, and the definition of that word I believe you are confusing with that of feminist. And it has nothing to do with Quadling Country, though I daresay that place has its own anomalies as well. Do you know anything about history?" She shoved her arms through the sleeves of the dress, though not violently enough to tear it, and then crossed them in front of her.
Disappointed at the lack of a good jolly scandal, Galinda nearly lost sight of the object of their previous contention. It was only after Elphaba adjusted the skirt and made a sniffy remark about looking like a marshmallow (minty and apple on top of that!) that she clapped her hands in delight and exclaimed, "Oh, the dress! How can you not say it isn't your color? You're a vision, a dream!"
"An illusion," Elphaba supplied, but she looked pleased nonetheless. "Well, do the ribbons bring out the apples in my cheeks? I'm dying to know."
"We must brush your hair," chirped Galinda, oblivious to any sarcasm; whenever she got excited about something Elphaba cared little for, they ended up having two entirely different conversations. A hairbrush was fetched and, sitting on the bed, Elphaba found herself the victim of sudden instant beautification.
"I envy your hair," Galinda confessed some moments later, voice all cotton candy clouds, with no substance of thought behind it. Her roommate sighed.
"You're a fool, then. Blondes are supposed to be the beauties."
"Yes, but if I had black hair I'd look mysterious."
"You would look washed out. You haven't the complexion for it."
"You're one to talk about complexions!"
Elphaba grinned, pushing Galinda away. "That's the spirit. I notice that whenever you begin to argue, your mind actually becomes engaged."
"I don't care to be made to think," Galinda said haughtily, pretty little nose in the air. "Anyway, there is an overemphasis on the process. Too much upsets one's inner balance and makes for poor digestion."
"Have you been sneaking philosophy again? You always seem to find the worst of the lot."
"That was my personal philosophy!" Offended, Galinda began to brush her own hair, agitated enough so she didn't realize she was in fact brushing all of the curls out of it. "Look at you, Miss Elphie. You think all the time and you're always desperately unhappy about something or other when you're not giving a lecture or making snide comments. If you stopped thinking and just acted like everybody else, you'd have a better time and certainly get more out of the university."
"Truly a novel approach to education. Life, however, will never be that easy for me. I'm sure I'll get over the tragedy of my existence at some point."
Galinda at last noticed her hair, now gone to frizzy golden waves. "Oh, damn it! And damn you! You don't even try to make life easier for yourself!"
"I'm wearing the dress," Elphaba observed mildly, "though I don't feel as though it has made my life any easier. I should think the opposite."
"Oh, take it off." Galinda felt disgusted with the universe, and turned to glare at Elphaba, who still looked amused about something. As if a nonexistent social life were something to be laughed at! Honestly, did the girl have any sort of plans for her future at all?
"I didn't realize you were a sapphist, Miss Galinda." Elphaba flopped onto her lap, arms outstretched, moved by humor into audacity. "Shall I kiss you?"
"Miss Elphaba!" the embarrassed victim of her joke shrieked, face burning. "I give you heartfelt advice and a dream of a dress and this is how you repay me and-- Yes, yes, do give me a kiss." Smug with the knowledge that no one would ever take up such a challenge, Galinda beamed down at the other girl. And even if she did try, she could always laugh over it with the others later. Or even use it as an excuse to switch to a private room! Madame Morrible would surely be concerned for her safety and moral fiber.
"All right," Elphaba answered, voice neutral, and she pulled Galinda down for a kiss, nearly getting her nose instead, as she had a lack of experience with this sort of thing. Galinda, who had plenty of experience, puckered up and sighed, waiting for the whole silly wet affair to be over with. Kisses were nothing to go into ecstasies over.
The kiss hung in pause for a few moments, neither party certain of the correct moment to start pulling away. Both sets of lips were soft and warm, though one was rather fuller than the other. Then both of them opened their mouths at the same time to say something--what she wanted to say Galinda never remembered, because suddenly there was a tongue in her mouth that didn't belong to her and the plan had gone all wrong--she couldn't laugh over this to her friends or report it to Madame Morrible because she was enjoying it, it was doing things to her. It was wonderful enough so that she almost didn't notice it was terrifying as well, and when Elphaba's hands strayed to the front of her dress she recoiled. A string of saliva trailed form her lip to Elphaba's, a fragile bridge. How ungenteel.
"I have concluded that I am not a sapphist," babbled Galinda, her voice high and strange. "Miss Elphaba, you may keep your dress on. You will in fact put another one over it! Basic human decency demands it. I demand it. Let's talk about philosophy now, or you can complain about society, or you can confuse me about good and evil and bore me with it at the same time. Let's do that, please, it sounds so entertaining right now. Let's do that, please."
"Galinda, you really are a fool." Elphaba's face was closed; she got off the bed and to her feet, already drawing up her ugly old dress, buttoning it over the pretty one as suggested. It was impossible to tell that another dress lurked underneath, all soft creamy color.
"I am wholly content to be a fool," Galinda agreed. Then, brightening: "My, that almost sounded like poetry! Not Poetry, though, because of course I haven't the brains or the talent." Her expression became wistful as Elphaba jammed her feet into her boots. "Elphie, do you think I'm awfully stupid? I'm sorry, really."
She looked so crestfallen that Elphaba had to say something. "You're not stupid. The trouble is you're a smart fool, Miss Galinda, and so you see mysteries and then upset them and then wonder why you've wound up with only smashed pieces. I'm going out. If I am gone tomorrow still, you may start making funeral arrangements and writing my biography. I'm sure you'll do a smashing job."
With that, Elphaba was gone, the door creaking shut after her. Galinda sat on the bed and persuaded herself out of bursting into tears. Then she set about re-curling her hair.