Exodus 6/?
Fandom: Wicked (Book)
Characters: General Cast
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Implied non-con, captivity, physical abuse.
Summary: Based off of the Gregory Maguire Wicked Years, AU. The Philosophy Club is everything it's rumored to be; disgusting and filthy with unspeakable acts happening in every corner. What Fiyero Tigelaar didn't expect was to find an enchanting emerald woman locked away in the basement, a slave to the club's mysterious owners. Warnings for non-con, captivity, physical abuse, and language.
Elphaba held her breath, the shadows of the tunnel eclipsing her body. Through the darkness, she could make out the figure- a male, but would not speak until she knew it was Fiyero for sure. The man stopped, looked around cautiously, advanced a few steps and then his search seemed more frantic.
“Elphaba,” he hissed through the darkness.
His name was a sigh of relief from her lips, “Fiyero. Over here.”
When she stepped forward, Fiyero couldn’t help but admire the way the shadows highlighted her features. The sharp angle of her cheekbones, the long limbs, her tresses no matter how tangled. She was beautiful and he would never understand how somebody could see her as anything but.
It was a question he’d have to ponder later. For now, he had to find a way to get her through a rather rough and tumble populous.
“Take these,” he offered, holding out a cloak and pair of gloves, “There are people ahead. We’re going to have to cover as much as we can. Try to blend in. We stick to the outsides, keep moving north.”
“How do you know?” She was still doubtful of his plan, and even more doubtful that they’d make it out of the place alive.
“I paid for the information,” Fiyero answered, reaching out to pull the hood of the cloak over her hair, “Just, look down and hold onto me. We’re going to try to get through here as quickly as possible. I don’t know what the odds are that somebody here would recognize you, but I don’t want to take my chances finding out.”
“What happens if someone stops us?”
“We’ll deal with it when we have to. Right now, we just have to get moving. Keep your eyes down. It’s bright out there.”
Elphaba nodded, took Fiyero’s hand when he offered it and couldn’t help but feel like a lamb being led to slaughter.
xx
Keeping her eyes fixed upon the ground was more difficult than she could have imagined. The cold and darkened passageways that she’d become accustomed to gave way to a large bizzare, filled with people selling secondhand items.
Occasionally, she would glance upward and take in the environment around her. The population was hardly what she’d call diverse. There were humans, filthy and disgruntled. Many of them appeared as if they were up to no good, the type of men that would take advantage of her captivity at the Philosophy Club.
For a fleeting moment, she thought she recognized one and it made her stomach churn.
Her eyes darted around to some of the other humans, standing on the outskirts, emaciated with dark and sullen eyes. They didn’t fit in, looking as if they’d been cast into the abyss by mistake. She felt much like them, alone and left to die.
Overwhelmingly, though, there were Animals. Some looked like their human counterparts, as if they may strike out in a murderous rage at any moment. Most seemed docile though, living as though they’d chosen their surroundings. She did not know a lot of Southstairs, but she knew enough to know that nobody chose to live in the Southstairs.
It was a life sentence.
“What are you looking at?” The voice was unfamiliar and threatening.
Elphaba felt Fiyero’s grip tighten on her hand and she closed her eyes. This was it. This would be their end. They’d barely made it into the bizarre and already they were caught.
“I apologize but I am not looking at anything,” Fiyero’s voice was unwavering, “I am simply passing through.”
“I don’t like your tone,” the voice replied. Clearly he was looking for a fight, “Where are you from anyway, pretty boy. And what is this you’ve got tagging along.”
Fiyero grasped the man’s hand before he could pull the hood away from Elphaba’s cloak, “You do not want to do that.”
Elphaba stumbled backwards when Fiyero’s hand was lurched from hers and without thinking, she looked up, searching frantically for where he had gone. A crowd was beginning to surround them in the wake of the forming scuffle, the passerby intrigued by the activity.
“Fiyero!” She called out frantically, holding tightly to her hood, “Fiyero, where are you?”
“Oh, you’ve got a girlie with you, huh?” The man sneered and turned in the direction of the cloaked woman. He reached out and grabbed hold of Elphaba, ripping away her hood, “Let’s see what we’ve-“ The man paused and grinned, “Oh, you’ve got a pretty price on your head. You’ll get me out of Southstairs for good.”
Fiyero moved to lash out against the man, but found himself in a stronghold, “Let her go. She’s done nothing to you. To anybody.”
“Don’t care. I’ve been itching to get back out into the real world.”
Elphaba struggled against the man’s hold but to no avail. She barely had the strength to get through the tunnels, let alone to fight against a man three times her size. She looked at Fiyero, her wide brown eyes panic stricken.
“The ice,” he said to her, still struggling against the thugs holding him, “you have to try. Think about it. Focus on that. Do something,” he urged her. He knew that she didn’t know how to control it but maybe the emotions mixed with urgency made it come about.
She looked helplessly at Fiyero, her resolve fading, “I can’t. I can’t do it!”
“Try!” He yelled at her before rearing his head back into the face of one of his captors. This would not be the way they ended.
“Try, try, try,” the man mocked, “keep trying. I like it. I may have to have a bite of that spirit before I take you back to your owners.”
Again, she struggled against the man, terrified of going back to the Philosophy Club, terrified of going back to a life of being sold for sex, of men putting their hands and lips on her flesh. She would not be beaten, be splattered with water and have her flesh burned for simply casting her eyes upwards. Not again.
Elphaba looked at Fiyero again, now in a strangle hold, the color fading from his face as he struggled still. They were going to kill him right in front of her. He would die because of her.
The fear inside her turned to anger, burning, boiling through her blood and her muscles tensed.
The man who was laughing at her struggles only moments ago stood frozen behind her, his grip weakened against her arms and then he dropped to the ground behind her. She did not turn to look at him, but only looked at the men holding Fiyero.
Each word was enunciated as a threat though they were truly a plea, “Let. Him. Go.”
Without argument, the men released their grasp on Fiyero, and he fell to the ground in front of her, gasping for breath. She dropped to her knees at his side, brushing his hair from his face, “Fiyero…Fiyero, are you okay?”
As best he could, he shook his head. Fiyero fought to catch his breath, his chest searing from the prolonged lack of oxygen. He felt her hand on his back, her murmured apologies and he found the strength to push himself up, “It’s okay. I’m okay,” he spoke, his voice hoarse.
Elphaba rose to her feet, cast her eyes to the man on the ground before looking at the crowd around them. It was an empty threat at best, she didn’t know what she’d done to the man, let alone know if she could do it again, “We will have safe passage through Southstairs.”
The crowd parted wordlessly until save for one Antelope dressed in tattered robes, “I will see to your safe passage.”
With Fiyero’s arm draped around her shoulder to support him, Elphaba stepped forward, towards the Animal and towards the unknown a little less afraid of the future than she had been before.
Characters: General Cast
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Implied non-con, captivity, physical abuse.
Summary: Based off of the Gregory Maguire Wicked Years, AU. The Philosophy Club is everything it's rumored to be; disgusting and filthy with unspeakable acts happening in every corner. What Fiyero Tigelaar didn't expect was to find an enchanting emerald woman locked away in the basement, a slave to the club's mysterious owners. Warnings for non-con, captivity, physical abuse, and language.
Elphaba held her breath, the shadows of the tunnel eclipsing her body. Through the darkness, she could make out the figure- a male, but would not speak until she knew it was Fiyero for sure. The man stopped, looked around cautiously, advanced a few steps and then his search seemed more frantic.
“Elphaba,” he hissed through the darkness.
His name was a sigh of relief from her lips, “Fiyero. Over here.”
When she stepped forward, Fiyero couldn’t help but admire the way the shadows highlighted her features. The sharp angle of her cheekbones, the long limbs, her tresses no matter how tangled. She was beautiful and he would never understand how somebody could see her as anything but.
It was a question he’d have to ponder later. For now, he had to find a way to get her through a rather rough and tumble populous.
“Take these,” he offered, holding out a cloak and pair of gloves, “There are people ahead. We’re going to have to cover as much as we can. Try to blend in. We stick to the outsides, keep moving north.”
“How do you know?” She was still doubtful of his plan, and even more doubtful that they’d make it out of the place alive.
“I paid for the information,” Fiyero answered, reaching out to pull the hood of the cloak over her hair, “Just, look down and hold onto me. We’re going to try to get through here as quickly as possible. I don’t know what the odds are that somebody here would recognize you, but I don’t want to take my chances finding out.”
“What happens if someone stops us?”
“We’ll deal with it when we have to. Right now, we just have to get moving. Keep your eyes down. It’s bright out there.”
Elphaba nodded, took Fiyero’s hand when he offered it and couldn’t help but feel like a lamb being led to slaughter.
xx
Keeping her eyes fixed upon the ground was more difficult than she could have imagined. The cold and darkened passageways that she’d become accustomed to gave way to a large bizzare, filled with people selling secondhand items.
Occasionally, she would glance upward and take in the environment around her. The population was hardly what she’d call diverse. There were humans, filthy and disgruntled. Many of them appeared as if they were up to no good, the type of men that would take advantage of her captivity at the Philosophy Club.
For a fleeting moment, she thought she recognized one and it made her stomach churn.
Her eyes darted around to some of the other humans, standing on the outskirts, emaciated with dark and sullen eyes. They didn’t fit in, looking as if they’d been cast into the abyss by mistake. She felt much like them, alone and left to die.
Overwhelmingly, though, there were Animals. Some looked like their human counterparts, as if they may strike out in a murderous rage at any moment. Most seemed docile though, living as though they’d chosen their surroundings. She did not know a lot of Southstairs, but she knew enough to know that nobody chose to live in the Southstairs.
It was a life sentence.
“What are you looking at?” The voice was unfamiliar and threatening.
Elphaba felt Fiyero’s grip tighten on her hand and she closed her eyes. This was it. This would be their end. They’d barely made it into the bizarre and already they were caught.
“I apologize but I am not looking at anything,” Fiyero’s voice was unwavering, “I am simply passing through.”
“I don’t like your tone,” the voice replied. Clearly he was looking for a fight, “Where are you from anyway, pretty boy. And what is this you’ve got tagging along.”
Fiyero grasped the man’s hand before he could pull the hood away from Elphaba’s cloak, “You do not want to do that.”
Elphaba stumbled backwards when Fiyero’s hand was lurched from hers and without thinking, she looked up, searching frantically for where he had gone. A crowd was beginning to surround them in the wake of the forming scuffle, the passerby intrigued by the activity.
“Fiyero!” She called out frantically, holding tightly to her hood, “Fiyero, where are you?”
“Oh, you’ve got a girlie with you, huh?” The man sneered and turned in the direction of the cloaked woman. He reached out and grabbed hold of Elphaba, ripping away her hood, “Let’s see what we’ve-“ The man paused and grinned, “Oh, you’ve got a pretty price on your head. You’ll get me out of Southstairs for good.”
Fiyero moved to lash out against the man, but found himself in a stronghold, “Let her go. She’s done nothing to you. To anybody.”
“Don’t care. I’ve been itching to get back out into the real world.”
Elphaba struggled against the man’s hold but to no avail. She barely had the strength to get through the tunnels, let alone to fight against a man three times her size. She looked at Fiyero, her wide brown eyes panic stricken.
“The ice,” he said to her, still struggling against the thugs holding him, “you have to try. Think about it. Focus on that. Do something,” he urged her. He knew that she didn’t know how to control it but maybe the emotions mixed with urgency made it come about.
She looked helplessly at Fiyero, her resolve fading, “I can’t. I can’t do it!”
“Try!” He yelled at her before rearing his head back into the face of one of his captors. This would not be the way they ended.
“Try, try, try,” the man mocked, “keep trying. I like it. I may have to have a bite of that spirit before I take you back to your owners.”
Again, she struggled against the man, terrified of going back to the Philosophy Club, terrified of going back to a life of being sold for sex, of men putting their hands and lips on her flesh. She would not be beaten, be splattered with water and have her flesh burned for simply casting her eyes upwards. Not again.
Elphaba looked at Fiyero again, now in a strangle hold, the color fading from his face as he struggled still. They were going to kill him right in front of her. He would die because of her.
The fear inside her turned to anger, burning, boiling through her blood and her muscles tensed.
The man who was laughing at her struggles only moments ago stood frozen behind her, his grip weakened against her arms and then he dropped to the ground behind her. She did not turn to look at him, but only looked at the men holding Fiyero.
Each word was enunciated as a threat though they were truly a plea, “Let. Him. Go.”
Without argument, the men released their grasp on Fiyero, and he fell to the ground in front of her, gasping for breath. She dropped to her knees at his side, brushing his hair from his face, “Fiyero…Fiyero, are you okay?”
As best he could, he shook his head. Fiyero fought to catch his breath, his chest searing from the prolonged lack of oxygen. He felt her hand on his back, her murmured apologies and he found the strength to push himself up, “It’s okay. I’m okay,” he spoke, his voice hoarse.
Elphaba rose to her feet, cast her eyes to the man on the ground before looking at the crowd around them. It was an empty threat at best, she didn’t know what she’d done to the man, let alone know if she could do it again, “We will have safe passage through Southstairs.”
The crowd parted wordlessly until save for one Antelope dressed in tattered robes, “I will see to your safe passage.”
With Fiyero’s arm draped around her shoulder to support him, Elphaba stepped forward, towards the Animal and towards the unknown a little less afraid of the future than she had been before.