{COMPLETE} When the world makes you feel so small...
WHO: Elphaba {greenified_life}, and the fallen Glinda {verypopular}
WHAT: Discovery, and burial of a best friend
WHERE: Alley, then Churchyard
WHEN:
A pretty pink flower, wilted and trampled in the dark night. Glinda hadn't come home yet, and though Elphaba knew that Glinda could take care of herself, the dark-haired witch began to worry when the sun fell beneath the horizon, especially with all of the snakes and other nonsense that seemed to happen in Rivelata. So Elphaba took her broom, and sailed low enough that she cleared the buildings and could see into the nooks and crannies of the streets. Dead serpents lay strewn about, some trod on nonchalantly like common litter.
A flash of candy pink and blonde caught her eye. Glinda.
The brief flare of relief was soon overshadowed by panic. Glinda?
Elphaba urged her broom down to the alley. A crumpled form; a snapped high heel. Spilled cotton-candy-colored baubles to hang around a sitting room. Blood mixing with pretty blonde curls.
"Glinda!" Elphaba screamed, leaping off of her broom and dropping beside the fallen witch.
Taking her into her grip, Elphaba's sap-green skin was soon coated with blood. She dropped Glinda in horror, surveying the damage done to her best friend. Deep puncture wounds on the neck seeping blood. Scratches and gashes from a feeble struggle, and the worst; chews and gnaws as the winged snakes found a victim to chew on. Glinda was still, her face a mask of shock, blue eyes empty.
"Glinda! Glinda, wake up! Stop that!" She patted her face, hoping to stir her, only to find her skin cold, like touching paper.
Elphaba sat back onto her heels, running a cautious hand along her hair in disbelief. Gentle fingers brushed her marble-like eyes closed.
After what felt like eternity, she slipped off her cloak and wrapped Glinda snugly inside. The blonde was small, and easily lifted in Elphaba's arms. So she carried her home, dragging her broom behind her in defeat.
The apartment was pink. Everything was pink. She could hear Glinda now, fussing about the cute pink curtains and the new shoes she had acquired from Kuja. Elphaba carefully slid off her wronged heels, and set the broken shoes on her worktable by her experiments. She selected a new pair, also pink, one of Glinda's favorites, and a bright, cheery flower pin. It was morbid and gross, but... Elphaba knew Glinda would've wanted to look beautiful, no matter her condition. Soon sparkling pink shoes were back on her feet; and Elphaba carefully pinned the pink blossom in her hair and wrapped a pink cardigan around her shoulders to cover the bites. Glinda deserved this.
The churchyard was a short walk. Though the parishioners mightn't have approved, Elphaba saw no other choice. She knew that bodies vanished if they were left alone; and it seemed like the only proper thing to do.
The ground was split into a neat grave; or as neat as a grave could be. The bundle of Elphaba's fine black cloak wrapped around Rivelata's pink princess was laid inside. Before she could think too hard about it, she pushed the mound of dirt atop the little form.
She stood at the sad little mound, with no marker in her memory. Nothing that said how she could laugh and be catty and be adorably silly or stupid. How she could sparkle or light up a room. Just a small plot of dirt to rest in.
Elphaba knelt beside the turned-up earth, brushing the soil lightly. She focused all of her magic into the ground. She couldn't save her; but she could honor her, couldn't she?
Please, Rivelata. Let me at least do this. She prayed, though Elphaba didn't know to who.
Soft, new shoots brushed Elphaba's palm. Beautiful, sunny pink daisies sprung to life, a little bed of happily nodding pink flowers. They bobbed their heads up and down the same way Glinda did when she sang.
The barest chuckle, ragged and broken, came to her throat.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
The night cold bit into her skin without her cloak. But she hoped somehow, Glinda was keeping warm with it. She stuffed her dirt-covered hands in her pockets, and brisked off home, leaving the bright blossoms to nod and bounce along, just as Elphaba hoped Glinda was doing at home, or wherever she had gone off to. In the meantime, she would live, she would thrive.
For Glinda.
For herself.
WHAT: Discovery, and burial of a best friend
WHERE: Alley, then Churchyard
WHEN:
A pretty pink flower, wilted and trampled in the dark night. Glinda hadn't come home yet, and though Elphaba knew that Glinda could take care of herself, the dark-haired witch began to worry when the sun fell beneath the horizon, especially with all of the snakes and other nonsense that seemed to happen in Rivelata. So Elphaba took her broom, and sailed low enough that she cleared the buildings and could see into the nooks and crannies of the streets. Dead serpents lay strewn about, some trod on nonchalantly like common litter.
A flash of candy pink and blonde caught her eye. Glinda.
The brief flare of relief was soon overshadowed by panic. Glinda?
Elphaba urged her broom down to the alley. A crumpled form; a snapped high heel. Spilled cotton-candy-colored baubles to hang around a sitting room. Blood mixing with pretty blonde curls.
"Glinda!" Elphaba screamed, leaping off of her broom and dropping beside the fallen witch.
Taking her into her grip, Elphaba's sap-green skin was soon coated with blood. She dropped Glinda in horror, surveying the damage done to her best friend. Deep puncture wounds on the neck seeping blood. Scratches and gashes from a feeble struggle, and the worst; chews and gnaws as the winged snakes found a victim to chew on. Glinda was still, her face a mask of shock, blue eyes empty.
"Glinda! Glinda, wake up! Stop that!" She patted her face, hoping to stir her, only to find her skin cold, like touching paper.
Elphaba sat back onto her heels, running a cautious hand along her hair in disbelief. Gentle fingers brushed her marble-like eyes closed.
After what felt like eternity, she slipped off her cloak and wrapped Glinda snugly inside. The blonde was small, and easily lifted in Elphaba's arms. So she carried her home, dragging her broom behind her in defeat.
The apartment was pink. Everything was pink. She could hear Glinda now, fussing about the cute pink curtains and the new shoes she had acquired from Kuja. Elphaba carefully slid off her wronged heels, and set the broken shoes on her worktable by her experiments. She selected a new pair, also pink, one of Glinda's favorites, and a bright, cheery flower pin. It was morbid and gross, but... Elphaba knew Glinda would've wanted to look beautiful, no matter her condition. Soon sparkling pink shoes were back on her feet; and Elphaba carefully pinned the pink blossom in her hair and wrapped a pink cardigan around her shoulders to cover the bites. Glinda deserved this.
The churchyard was a short walk. Though the parishioners mightn't have approved, Elphaba saw no other choice. She knew that bodies vanished if they were left alone; and it seemed like the only proper thing to do.
The ground was split into a neat grave; or as neat as a grave could be. The bundle of Elphaba's fine black cloak wrapped around Rivelata's pink princess was laid inside. Before she could think too hard about it, she pushed the mound of dirt atop the little form.
She stood at the sad little mound, with no marker in her memory. Nothing that said how she could laugh and be catty and be adorably silly or stupid. How she could sparkle or light up a room. Just a small plot of dirt to rest in.
Elphaba knelt beside the turned-up earth, brushing the soil lightly. She focused all of her magic into the ground. She couldn't save her; but she could honor her, couldn't she?
Please, Rivelata. Let me at least do this. She prayed, though Elphaba didn't know to who.
Soft, new shoots brushed Elphaba's palm. Beautiful, sunny pink daisies sprung to life, a little bed of happily nodding pink flowers. They bobbed their heads up and down the same way Glinda did when she sang.
The barest chuckle, ragged and broken, came to her throat.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
The night cold bit into her skin without her cloak. But she hoped somehow, Glinda was keeping warm with it. She stuffed her dirt-covered hands in her pockets, and brisked off home, leaving the bright blossoms to nod and bounce along, just as Elphaba hoped Glinda was doing at home, or wherever she had gone off to. In the meantime, she would live, she would thrive.
For Glinda.
For herself.