They’ve been in Quadling Country for two very hot weeks. Glinda relishes in the sun, finally feeling warm for the first time since she can remember. Each morning, she rises with the sun, stepping out from the tent she shares with Elphaba to watch the sun rise over the Impassable Desert. In the far distance, there are mountains made of sandstone, pressed up from beneath the ground by the very inner workings of the world.
On this morning, she woke with a chill, woken by a nightmare of those early days in the dungeons of the Emerald Palace, and while she would normally roll into the comfort of her wife, Glinda needs a few minutes to herself. Brrr glances up at her, raising a little lion eyebrow in question, but Glinda just gives him a gentle scratch behind the ears and tells him she isn’t going far.
Carefully, she wraps only a light linen wrap around her shoulders; something light enough that it doesn’t stifle her, but enough to curb the breeze that comes from the Desert. There is a small table setting out here, two chairs and a little table, where she and Elphaba take their meals in the morning, and she pulls the blanket around to lay across her lap as she sits. The sun has yet to peak from behind the mountains in the desert, but already, the sky is a light blue as if it is noontime.
Absentmindedly, she runs her fingers across the cuff on her arm, the thick silver band matching that of the bracelet on her wrist. A gift, from the Baron of Quadling Country. Elphaba wears her own cuff, swooping gold that reaches from shoulder to elbow. Glinda has found herself staring at the new jewelry far too often – it goes so perfectly with the nose ring from Sarima. With each new piece of jewelry Elphaba is bestowed, Glinda sees her betrothed relax further and further. It’s as if, by having physical reminders of her status, Elphaba finally believes that she could one day rule Oz and change things for the better.
“Are you alright, my sweet?”
Elphaba stands at the mouth of their tent, braids curling over her shoulders, as she watches Glinda watch the sun rise.
“Perfectly perfect. Come,” Glinda holds a hand out for her, beckoning Elphaba closer. Green fingers run gently across the shell of her ear, fingering the little silver hoops that now adorn the gentle points. Elphaba stoops low, pressing her lips to Glinda’s forehead before moving in one fluid motion to lift Glinda from her perch.
Glinda lets out a small gasp in surprise, forgetting how strong her wife is. The last time Elphaba handled her like this, they were still in Gilikin. The trappers had done more damage than just causing physical distress, and even now, they are still learning to reconnect their magic fully. If it wouldn’t put their new positions at risk – positions as opponents to the Wizard – Glinda would try writing to Ama Clutch, but she isn’t sure where her nanny is these days.
Once Elphaba has settled, Glinda rests her head on a bare green shoulder. This is the most skin Glinda’s seen of her wife outside their tent, and she can’t help but admire the way the toga fits Elphaba. Here, in Quadling Country, where everything is red, Elphaba stands out even more, and Glinda knows how uncomfortable that feeling is; she can sense it through their bond, the way Elphaba wishes to cover herself every time they enter a new home.
The longer they’re in Quadling Country, however, the more comfortable Elphaba has become. The Quadlings, due to the ever-present red dust that lays over everything, seem to have become red themselves. Although they are not the same shade as the rocks and sands around them, they all have a red undertone, one that has Glinda talking with the Baron’s tailors constantly to figure out how they dye their fabrics. The clothing here is more vibrant, almost as if to make up for the sheer amount of red that surrounds everything. It’s nothing like the clothing of the Emerald City, where everything is created to go so perfectly with green. No, here in Quadling Country, there is a rainbow of color.
“What are you thinking about so loudly, my love?” Elphaba whispers, her lips pressed to Glinda’s forehead as she asks her question.
“You,” Glinda whispers back. She brings a hand up to wrap around Elphaba’s shoulders, using a little bit of her magic to raise goosebumps on Elphaba’s skin. Moments like this are so rare these days, as if they had any personal time ever before, but Glinda is determined to make the most of them. She’s almost died too many times to let a moment go without appreciation.
It used to scare her, that she was always thinking about Elphaba, but she made a choice that night with Fiyero; that even if this was some fantastical hallucination concocted by Madam Horrible, she didn’t have enough energy to keep fighting it anymore.
“I’m real, Glinda,” Elphaba tells her, as if she’s sensed Glinda’s thoughts.
That’s been happening more and more lately, and Glinda knows Elphaba has been spending hours in the library in the Ruby Castle trying to find out more about their bond. Ama Clutch had given them as much information as she could, but Quadling Country has nearly as much magical history as Gilikin.
The reassurance isn’t quite enough, and Glinda can feel her heart beat a little faster at the very idea of this not being real. Cool fingers, perhaps cool for the last time all day, wrap around her waist and rest lightly above the skin of her hip. She can feel the way Elphaba squeezes gently, scraping her nails gently back and forth. Glinda’s outfit for the day is a pair of billowy pants, made of the same light linen material as her coverlet, and she’s forgone the concept of a proper top for a week now, so her entire midriff is bare to Elphaba save for the linen bra she wears.
“This is real, Glinda. Feel the breeze on your skin, smell the softness of the juniper, hear the way the animals move through the grasses.”
Glinda breathes carefully, turning her head so her nose is no longer buried into Elphaba’s neck. She keeps her eyes open, forcing herself to remember where she is, who she’s with. Elphaba meets her eyes, and Glinda can feel the gentle rush of stability that Elphaba pushes into their bond.
“You have magic.”
It’s the last little step in this comforting routine that they’ve built over the last however long they’ve been on the road. Elphaba, who always looks away in shame after helping Glinda ground herself – as if it’s her fault that Glinda can’t remember what’s real and what isn’t all the time – reminds her gently that Glinda has her own magic, her own power; that she can use that power whenever she wants and however she wants.
She raises a finger, gently pushing the feeling of light that swims through her blood out through her pointer finger. Glinda refuses to look away from Elphaba, watching as her betrothed runs her fingers through the linen fabric that pools around Glinda’s ankles from her wrap. Elphaba told her once, maybe in those early days when they were still in the Palace, that stars were her favorite companions, so Glinda creates a few little starbursts to match the markings that have found their way to Elphaba’s skin. They sparkle like the pendant that rests warmly at her collar, a reminder of what the two of them can do together.
Brrr circles around them, coming to check on the two of them as the little tiger trails behind him, learning his craft at being a familiar. A furry head finds its home on Glinda’s knee, and she pets her companion. His presence calms whatever is left of her dramatics, just in time for the day to truly begin.
Around them, the sounds of soldiers returning from a patrol break whatever little bit of peace they’ve stolen. Soon, the two of them will be called to sit with the Baron of Quadling Country as they discuss their next steps. But they can exist in this little bubble just a while longer.