Chapter 7
Another two weeks went by without so much as a whisper of anything happening at Shiz. Glinda had, blissfully, been spending many of her nights far away from her and Elphaba's shared room. From what Elphaba understood, she and her friends had been going to some club in the town closest to the school. Elphaba had her own hangouts in town, though she would never tell anyone. There was a reason she hid her Quadling lyre, the first gift she had ever received, away from Glinda and her friends.
Elphaba had notice though, that Glinda's group had grown quite a bit bigger. Now instead of just Pfannee and ShenShen, she sat with multiple people in her classes and at Lunch. Glinda had friended Nessa without much trouble. With Nessa came Shell, who seemed to bring Avaric into their circle as well. Part of it irked Elphaba, that Glinda was closer to her siblings than she would ever be, but it was for the best. To them, their tragic sister died years ago, and with it, whatever curse their father thought she placed on their family gone. It would do no one any good to reveal herself, alive and well.
Instead, she spent her lunches alone and far away from the group. Often, she spent time in the gardens. The constant buzzing and chirping didn't bother her, nor did the damp morning dew or the grass stains, though every once and a while water would get in her shoe, and the squelching feeling would have a shiver running through her back. All and all, she was surviving, though she doubted Rain would be very happy with how little she had stepped out of her comfort zone.
"You seem lost in thought, Miss Elphaba."
The witch looked up to see Dr. Dilla. The Goat was getting ready for class, and Elphaba had arrived early, as always. The only difference was today she wasn't reading the ahead so that she was prepared for today's class but staring off into some unseeable void. She wanted to say she was having some deep philosophical thought, but in truth she was just antsy. The weekend was in a few hours, and class seemed to drag on too long, even if she usually enjoyed it.
"Yes," Elphaba said. "I have a great many complicated thoughts."
"Oh, of that I have no doubt."
Then the Goat went back to writing on the board and Elphaba went back to reading the book on the table. Once class started, she took notes, answered every question she could- like the insufferable know-it-all that she was, and acted exactly as any good student should. When the class was over, she packed up quickly and made her way back to her room to grab the books for her next class, which was in another hour.
Glinda and Pfannee were already in the room, squealing about some party. They quieted slightly when Elphaba walked in. She could feel their eyes following her as she went through the books on her shelf. Elphaba already knew how the rest of the day would go. She would quietly switch out her books as she heard Glinda and her friends would whisper about her, then she would hide away in the garden and read whatever she needed to for class, then she would go to class, and repeat it all over again until the daylight had run out. There was very little that truly excited her about in daylight hours, as much as she enjoyed her classes and the pursuit of knowledge, no one loved doing schoolwork all the time. It was, as everything was, a means to an end.
"You should come with us to the OzDust."
Glinda's voice shattered the quiet of the room. Elphaba looked over at the two on the other side of the room. It was clear on Pfannee's face that she was just as confusifyed as Elphaba.
"I don't really dance," Elphaba said, placing the last book in her bag and heading towards the door.
That was a lie, of course. Glinda didn't need to know that though. In reality, the idea of going anywhere with Glinda gave her a headache. That and she didn't trust the girl as far as she could through her overstuffed, perky, pink closet.
"You don't seem to do anything that would involve other people."
Pfannee spoke loudly and clearly. The implication was loud and clear as well. She was a social reject, and it was no one else's fault but her own. That whatever sad and lonely life she led, was her fault and hers alone.
"It does seem that way," Elphaba said.
Then she opened the and walked away.
--
That night at the OzDust, Glinda spun so much she almost lost everything in her stomach. Avaric had taken it upon himself to dance with all the ladies in their little circle. Glinda was grateful for the attention he was giving Nessa, as it took it off herself. Pfannee and ShenShen were off dancing somewhere else, and Shell was ordering a drink at the bar. It left Glinda with the newly arrived prince, and the notorious Tibbet and Crope. They were friends with Avaric and could basically get anyone into any place or event they desired. Where their connections came from, nobody seemed to know or question. The two of them were talking to each other about something or other, but Glinda couldn't hear their whispers over the music, nor did she really attempt to. Instead, she put her focus on the Winkie Prince in front of her.
He had been the whole reason she had even invited Elphaba. According to Avaric, he had some affection for her, of which Glinda didn't understand. She just thought that maybe, if he saw Glinda being kind to her, despite how she acts around everyone, he might like her in return. Since she was a little girl in the Upper Uplands, she wanted to marry a Prince, and now a perfectly handsome one fell right on her lap, and she was not going to let the opportunity go.
"How has your time been at Shiz been so far?"
Fiyero looked at Glinda for a moment, as if trying to read her. Then he gave her a beautiful smile that she could only partially see in the light.
"Overall, it's been rather welcoming. Though I won't lie, speaking common Ozian is one thing, but I have found reading and writing to be more of a challenge then I thought it would be."
"Oh, how terrible," Glinda said. "You know, maybe I can ask my roommate to help you. She's so smart, and all she does is read and write papers."
Glinda probably shouldn't have volunteered Elphaba for any sort of favor, given where they stood. Her mother had always taught her that forgiveness was far easier to acquire than permission, and she had taken that to heart. Not even Elphaba would be cruel enough to leave a student struggling with a foreign language to the wolves. Glinda would end up being the hero of the story.
"You're roommate's Elphaba, right?"
"Yes!" Glinda enthusiastically replied. "Originally, she didn't have a room at all. There was some…mix-up. I, of course, couldn't bear to think of a Shiz student without a place to sleep. So, I offered to share my room."
"That was rather kind of you," Fiyero said. "I worry about her being all alone out here."
"Why?" Glinda asked, more sincere than she had been for the entire conversations. "She doesn't really like to be around people. Elphaba is happiest when she's by herself. She never wants to eat with anyone, or spend an afternoon shopping, and she certainly never wants to go out and do anything. I invited her to come with us tonight. She didn't even entertain the idea, 'I don't dance,' she told me."
A chortle interrupted the conversation. Crope was basdically doubled over, trying his best not to exploded into, frankly, what would be insulting laughter at Glinda. Tibbet was gently patting the man's back, trying to help him through his fit.
"Oh girlfriend…you've been… had," Crope said through his laughter.
Glinda tilted her head, her eyebrows knit together, creating a confusifyed expression. Tibbet took pity on her and decided to explain exactly what Crope meant.
"Elphaba Moss is not a homebody, you just don't run in her circles. I thought you'd know something about it. I mean she had to practice those strings somewhere."
Despite Tibbet trying to explain, Glinda was still at a loss for words. She couldn't imagine Elphaba doing anything that required her to make a sound, let alone play an instrument. And dance? The only exercise that girl did was walking back and forth from class to the garden, then to the dorm. There were no circles that girl could run in that would properly explain what Crope and Tibbet were saying.
"Well, where does she go?" Glinda asked, curious of the secret life her roommate had.
Tibbet and Crope looked at one another, speaking in whatever silent language they had. After a moment, it seemed the two had come to some conclusion.
"The Ruby Raven," Tibbet said. "It's a Quadling tavern, old school."
"Is she there tonight?"
Once again Crope and Tibbet looked at one another. This time, they seemed less sure about giving out the answer.
"There's a good chance," Crope answered. "She's there most weekends."
The table rattled as Glinda Shot up, wetness spreading across Fiyero's shirt as a drink shot from the table.
"You need to take me there now!" Glinda screamed.
The shrill in her tone was ear piercing, and her voice was more assertive than she had ever used. There was a fire in her, that somehow, the one thing Elphaba didn't have that she did, a blooming social life, had been a farce the entire time.
"Calm down, blondie. You wouldn't survive a second in a place like that. It would eat you whole."
There wasn't so much as a moment's thought before she looked down, reached out, and took Fiyero's arm in a chokehold.
"Fiyero can come with me," she reasoned. "Look how tall and muscular he is. No would bother me if I have him on my arm."
Tibbet looked at Fiyero, then at Crope, who looked at Fiyero then Tibbet. This happened more than a few times. The three men didn't know exactly what they should do. Fiyero did know that if Glinda didn't let go, he would surely lose his arm to the tingling numbness that had begun to encroach it.
"Okay," Crope said. "But you better not forget to return the favor sometime."
"Of course," Glinda assured them, though she would have said just about anything in that moment.
Fiyero shimmed away from them, finding Shell and letting him know that they would be heading somewhere else, and that the group shouldn't wait up on them. All the while, he could practically feel Glinda's stare, rushing him along as they waited at the door.
For the first time since he came to Shiz, he wondered what he had gotten himself into.
--
The red Raven was several streets down, and only accessible through a back-alley way. It was an old tavern, built during the days of the following the great drought. The culture of the Quadlings had been seen as something wayward, and so those living across Oz, far from home, had to create secret places to be able to hold onto their heritage. As a result, it was almost impossible to find Quadling taverns, though Fiyero had been to one or two, courtesy of his Yunamata friend. Many Vinkun long assumed the Yunamata were as Quadling as they were Vinkun, with their Yumish that was mutually intelligible with the Qua'ati language, more so than any Vinkun tribal dialect. The Yunamata tribe never strayed from the Vinkun-Quadling border, and with a familiar culture, they were often told where to find such places.
Tibbet knocked on the door, and a small wooden piece slide open, revealing the eyes of a man, who had a rather deep scar that ran from his brow, past his eyelid, and presumably to his cheek, though it wasn't visable. The man spoke in a language, at which point Crope and Tibbet became unsettled. Usually their friend, a Quadling from the city, manned the door. They didn't know this man, nor could they respond to the language he spoke.
It was Fiyero who replied, not it Quadling, but Yumish. He had to know all the main languages of the Vinkun, of which there were four of those, there were three dialects distinct enough that he had to have some level in fluency as well. That being said, he wasn't how well he had spoken it, given how long it had been since he spoke that specific Vinkun language.
The wood slid back into place, a moment later the door swung open. The dark-skinned man had the look of someone spent their life burning in the sun. His greying hair was a strong contrast to his skin, though not enough so that none of them realized how large he was. So much so that Fiyero assumed the man was made of muscle and nothing else. The Quadling man scanned his eyes over Fiyero, then mumbled a single word.
"Yunamata."
"Arijikian," Fiyero corrected.
The man once again spoke in Qua'ati, to which Fiyero responded in Yumish. After going back and forth a few times, the man switched to common Ozian.
"Keep an eye on your friends," The man said, harsh on his r, in a thick accent Glinda had always been told was lower class. "We aren't as free loving as are forefathers."
With a nod from Fiyero, the man stepped out of the way and allowed the group to enter. Automatically, they were assaulted by the smell of tobacco and whiskey. Walking by the kitchen, the smell of burnt and smoked meat accompted the sound of a hissing grill. That sound was almost completely blocked out by the stomping of feat on the floor, in tune with a stringed instrument, echoing throughout the room, even though it shouldn't be able to at all. The string of sound grew, building into a crescendo, then with one final climatic strum, it faded away, and with it the stomping. What replaced it was the sound of clapping and cheers, many of which were not fit for polite company.
"One more, Mossy," One man screamed.
It was then the four of them finally got a look on the stage that rose above the room in a long strip. There was no backstage, and the only way on or off seemed to be by climbing on the tables. On it was Elphaba, sweat dripping down the side of her face.
"Yeah," another man yelled, smashing his wooden cup against the ground.
The action had Glinda flinching, digging herself into Fiyero's chest.
"Come on Mossy," a woman yelled. "You can't leave us hanging."
Elphaba sway on her feet, her skirt of tattered and mismatched fabrics moving with her. It was like an earthy rainbow of tulle, silk cotton, linen, and any other fabric one could think of. She wore a brown leather corset, the straps connected to the front with a string of a shoelace texture. Underneath it was a worn white shirt with slight puffed sleeves that tapered into a hem around her forearm. There was some kind of embroidery along the sleeves, colors that weaved together like flowers on a snowy field. Her boots though, they were a shimmering emerald green, with brown leather flanking the sides, laced to her mid-calf, with a ridding heel and pointed toe.
The assemble left Glinda flabbergasted. Despite the roughness of it, there was care and style. It was a far cry to the mind numbing black Elphaba wore day to day. Standing on the stage, she was shimmering with color, her witch markings clear, traveling up her right leg, swirl green painted down her arm to the back of her hand, spreading across her chest and up her shoulder, tapering out at her neck. It practically consumed her being. It was larger than any Witch's mark Glinda had ever seen before. Far larger than Margarette's and her Granny's, there was no doubt. How much magic did she hold in that lanky frame of hers?
"Okay," Elphaba said, causing the tavern to erupt, boots slamming against the ground. "But I'm warning you all, it's not going to be pretty one."
At first, she strummed the lyre a single time letting the sound resonate from the room.
Aah ooh,
Then another strum, sound spreading through the room before it died.
Aah ooh,
The next time she played the lyre, actual words accompanied the somber tune.
I have looked into the void,
And it didn't dare look back.
Scared of the anger in my eyes,
Of my heart, turned dark and black.
I have watch grown man fall apart,
from the things they did create.
At the folly of their wives,
Then I watched them turn around
and find a way,
to lay blame,
Upon the children they won't love,
And would never think to claim.
After the first verse the room seemed to go quiet. It was a feeling of waiting, watching for something to happened. It was like there was some script, and for the first time in her life, Glinda didn't know it by heart.
Then Elphaba strummed the Lyre, loud, harsh, and quickly. Her fingers were nimble, moving as fast as a violin player in the Gilikin Symphony. Unlike the music from the symphony, it was rough, unpolished. It was music made for the unkempt masses. Glinda thought she should hate such a thing, but instead, she felt in vibrating through her chest in a way she had never experienced before. A background sound of instrumentals began to play, an unnoticed band in the back, nowhere near the strip of stage. They wouldn't have fit anyways. Along with it all, the boots once again began to stomp, creating a percussion the rattled people down to the bone.
Aah ooh,
Aah ooh,
I have looked into the void,
And it didn't dare look back.
Aah ooh
Aah ooh,
Scared of the anger in my eyes,
Of my heart, turned dark and black.
I would rather walk the road of the broken and the damned,
Rather be a city rat,
With the sewer as my land.
Then walk the path of those who think themselves above,
The common working people,
The pigeons, not the doves.
Cause those stones are made of bone,
the cement is mixed with blood.
And I'd rather die with nothing, in the pure unsullied snow,
Then have to walk on dirtied ground that I've paid for with my soul.
Aah ooh,
Aah ooh,
I have looked into the void,
And it didn't dare look back.
Aah ooh
Aaah ooh,
Scared of the anger in my eyes,
Of my heart, turned dark and black.
.
Pain burns red like fire, running through my blood.
Sadness is the blue of tears I couldn't help but shed,
till one day they all dried up, and I never cried again.
Loneliness is gray as fog, like a mist upon my mind.
And fear it has no color,
that I could think to name,
but I can always feel it,
like the air upon my face.
Any one of these,
the darkness,
the all-consuming dread,
would invite to stand beside it,
It fair and weathered friend.
But the anger I possess,
The black stain upon my soul,
Even the nothingness would not give these things,
a place they could call home."
Fiyero could not look away, each word she sang, the way she swirled across the stage, and each time her heal cracked against the wood. If felt like he was watching her bare her very soul, and yet it was still crowded in a fog that left him blind. It seemed impossible to feel like he was seeing all of her and none of her at the same time.
Aah ooh
Aaah ooh,
I have looked into the void,
And it didn't dare look back.
Aah ooh
Aaah ooh,
Scared of the anger in my eyes
Of my heart, turned dark and black.
Ahh ooh
Aah ohh
I have looked into the void,
And it didn't.
Dare.
Look.
Back.
The room fell silent as Elphaba breathed heavily on the stage. Sweat gleaming across her skin, soaking the roots of her hair. Her eyes traveled the room, and then, with a look of absolute horror, she saw the four of them. How could she not with the unnecessarily flashing coat Tibbet had draped over his shoulders. Even in the dankness of the Ruby Raven, it was impossible for the gems scattered upon it not to reflect. She had seen the man and his friend before, saw them on campus from time to time, but they had never brought anyone else with them, nor approached her. Until now, that is. Her eyes then shifted to Fiyero, and the to the girl he held in his grip. Her eyes widened, fared, not in anger but a fear. A fear that she had been seen by someone she had steeled herself again. Despite herself she continued to sing as if her heart wasn't running fast as a train racing towards the Emerald City.
Boisterous clapping broke the silence, as well as Elphaba's look of horror. She plastered a convincing enough smile on her face before jumping off the nearest table and booking it for the door. On another night they may have been able to get a second or third 'final' song out of her, but now she just needed to escape. She didn't know where she would go. Heading back to the room would land her straight back to Glinda. Not that she wouldn't have to face it eventually. Oz, she expected to here Pfannee and ShenShen mocking her words the next day. No such logic kept her from running.
Glinda chased after her, running out of the Red Raven and into the streets of town. Before she could manage to catch up, Elphaba had already jump on the back of a taxi carriage. When Fiyero, Tibbet, and Crope finally turned the corner of the alley into the street, the witch was nothing but a speck moving ever further.
All this time she had seen Elphaba as a burden thrust upon her. A rude, inconsiderate woman who had no tact or social etiquette. Someone who actively disdained human interaction, who didn't want friends or connection. She had never thought to think that maybe there was more to the girl who slept at the other end of the room.
Now, she didn't think she could go back to pretending this version of Elphaba didn't exist.