woodsmoke, tea leaves, a life lived
Galinda's heart, glowing bright, cools and sinks like a stone. "Was?"
Elphaba swallows, hard. "Today marks two years since her passing."
Oh. Galinda can practically feel the anguish drowning her bones as it engulfs the girl wrapped in her arms for solace. She feels it keenly, hating to even picture Ama Clutch...gone from the world.
Even though Ama Clutch doesn't chaperone her anymore, she's still good friends with the family. She sees her at special events, and it never fails to paint a few hours with cinnamon-smelling safety and fond memories of running through the house covered in flour.
So she holds Elphaba even tighter, and she doesn't ask how she died.
"Tell me about her. What was she like?"
"It hurts." Elphaba whines, and the keen splinters her heart open. Her hands fist in her silky pyjamas, as if afraid Galinda will sink below the earth as well.
"I know. But maybe this will help?"
In short, clipped answers, Elphaba answers her queries, eventually melting into longer, embellished stories of berry-picking, trundling along forest paths with Nessa, and the musky smell of fur and woodsmoke and tea leaves.
Galinda learns her favourite colour was sunset pink (she silently applauds the Bear at that), and that she was most often weaving a melody of clacking knitting needles through the air, creaking on her rocking chair by the fire.
She learns that when Elphaba would curl up at her feet with a volume larger than her little head, Dulcibear would hum for her.
Through sentences growing ever stronger, she experiences a life.
Dulcibear's paw swiping at her playfully as Elphaba tries to taste the sticky jam early in the big mixing bowl.
The sensation of fur as soft as snow, cradling her with a reverence that usually followed Nessa, even when she got too old for it.
The nanny treated her as a gift, where Munchkinland saw her as a curse. Father avoided touching her when he could, and couldn't suppress a shudder when it did happen, whereas Dulcibear never shied away from stroking her hair back, patting her head when she did well on tests, straightening her glasses with motherly hums.
"She was the best cook too. Inventive, as far as her beetroot muffin experiments went. Those days were difficult- I couldn't risk hurting her feelings, so many a mealtime passed with me scarfing down a gooey, crumby scarlet mess that had me hiding my retches.. "
Elphaba had fully relaxed now, slumping back into the mess of pillows Galinda had snatched from her own bed; the air was spritzed with vanilla everytime they shifted.
Galinda joined in on her chuckles, feeling their chests tremble as one.
"Thank you." Elphaba whispers, just as her eyelashes are fluttering shut. She forces them open, and chuckles at how the two of them had collapsed in like a caved cake, a fallen house of cards, bending inward towards the other.
"Anytime, Elphie."
The next morning her mood has significantly improved, and a green pinkie finds hers under the table during class.