Chapter 7
Elphaba hears the shrill whistle, she hears the faint flapping of the mighty wings, she hears Corvex giving her a warning before flying away. However, despite every single cell inside and even outside her body screaming at her to run, Elphaba can only stay rooted to the spot as a series of equally shrill whistles follows.
She can only stare as a force knocks into her, pinning her dangerously close to the edge of the roof of the building she is on. The air is knocked out of her and her world tilts as she stares up at the angel pinning her to the ground.
Because that’s what she looks like. In the dim glow of the silver moonlight, Glinda is bathed in a silver aura, her wings, white as snow, stretched out large and unyielding, her golden hair shining mystically, her pink dress bright, but something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong.
Her eyes are blank as she stares down at Elphaba. There’s nothing in them, not a hint of emotion, no flicker of recognition, just empty brown irises, staring into her murky green ones, and it’s unsettling. Because despite it looking like Glinda, this lifeless puppet couldn’t be her.
Elphaba doesn’t know what she expected — anger, maybe, hatred, and in the best case scenario, the same longing Elphaba felt every second of every day; although she would never wish that pain on Glinda — but this wasn’t it. She wants those reactions now, prefers it.
“Glinda?” She tries. Nothing. “Glinda, please, look at me.” She is looking at her, in the practical sense, but Elphaba wants her to look at her with that spark in her eyes, some warmth, something other than this hollow expression.
Glinda once again makes no move to signify that she heard Elphaba.
However, the more time that passes with the two of them locked in the same position — Glinda’s knee on Elphaba’s sternum, her hand gently clutching her neck, wings splayed out behind her — nothing changes. Elphaba is too unwilling, and unable to move, because it’s Glinda. And Glinda? She remains frozen like a statue.
“Glinda,” Elpha tries again. She has no doubt Morrible is involved in this, so why is Glinda not taking her back? Then tentatively. “My sweet?”
If Glinda wasn’t positioned above Elphaba, Elphaba wouldn’t have noticed the change. Glinda draws a sharp, inaudible breath, her body tensing ever so slightly. Elphaba’s old nickname for Glinda clearly did something.
“My sweet,” Elphaba starts. “what happened to you?” Her fingers twitch at her sides. She longs to pull the small blonde into her arms, to touch her in some way, to provide some comfort. After a while, she gives in to the urge, reaching up with a single hand that Glinda does nothing to prevent, she gently touches the blonde’s face.
Glinda whimpers, and leans into the touch to the point where Elphaba cradles her face. Something warm and wet slips down the side of Elphaba’s face, and she can’t find it in herself to care.
Then Glinda finally speaks, and Elphaba’s entire world stops. “You need to leave.” She breathes heavily.
“But…” Elphaba does not want to abandon her, not again. “Come with me.”
“You need to leave.” Glinda repeats again, standing up and releasing Elphaba from her grasp. Elphaba misses her instantly.
“Glinda, come with me.”
Glinda turns away, her blonde hair forming a curtain around the side of her face. “Leave.” She says before spreading her magnificent wings, and gliding off the roof. Elphaba stares after her, not wanting to watch her leave, but unable to get away.
When Morrible comes into view, Elphaba slinks into the shadows, pulling her cloak higher, and her hat lower. She knows Glinda is right. She needs to leave. Otherwise that would put them both in more danger.
Sparing one last glance at the blonde, Elphaba disappears into the night.
***
Glinda’s body hits the straw covered floor hard.
“What did I tell you would happen if you defy me?”
Glinda keeps her head down, not daring to answer.
A leather covered hand grips her chin, forcing her eyes up to meet stormy grey ones. “Well?” Morrible demands.
“She got away, Madame.” Glinda says quietly.
“Don’t you understand, Glinda?” Morrible sighs. “Elphaba Thropp is a traitor, she did this,” — Morrible gestures at her wings — “to you. Yet you insist on protecting her.” Glinda holds back a wince as Morrible grip tightens. “When will you understand that she’s your enemy?”
Glinda understands that — at least, she thought she did.
My sweet.
The memory of that nickname remains burned in her mind.
“I’m sorry, Madame.”
“You will be.”
Morrible brings out an emerald collar that Glinda knows quite well. Her eyes widen. “Madame, please, I-”
Morrible tsks, and Glinda immediately shuts up. “I’d removed this on account of your good behaviour. Clearly that was an error in judgement.” She clamps on the collar, the familiar coldness and weight of it settling on Glinda once again.
Morrible takes a step back to admire her handiwork. “Clearly, you still have many lessons to learn. “
With that she sweeps out of the room with a flourish, casting her, once again, into darkness.
Glinda curls onto the floor, tucking her wings as close to her body as possible. Something pink rolls to the floor in front of her, but Glinda simply tucks her head into her knees and welcomes the darkness.
***
Elphaba lands in her quiet hideout, which, after what just happened, feels too quiet. Elphaba meets the beady black eye, glittering in the moonlight.
“Thank you.” She says quietly, slumping onto the floor. There’s a flicker of movement, then the Bird stands next to her. Thankfully, he doesn’t speak, simply allowing Elphaba’s thoughts to take their course. One thought remains a constant.
She needs to save Glinda.
She cannot shake the haunting memories, not that she wants to. It now hurts remembering the flamboyant girl because drawing comparisons between the shell she saw today and the girl she knew only leads to pointless pain.
But Glinda is still in there, no matter how broken and distraught she was, she was still in there.
And just that smallest amount of hope is pushing Elphaba through.
She needs to save Glinda.
The only problem: she has no idea how.