Let all Oz be a g r e e d …
I’m W I C K E D through & through
She is trembling; alone, her breath loud and shallow,
as though she may never get enough. Her hands are
shaking … she pushes them to her chest, and then
peers down at them, the spindly, green fingers
tingling with energy.
With P O W E R.
The Witch, however, is drained.
A silver mist encompassed mountains that
resided over the horizon in a thickness that
seemed almost exuberant in nature, lively in
fact as if it had a mind of its own. Waiting to
devour the emerald city ahead of it though its
people were desolate to its very existence.
Still, it waited. Centuries it had waited and so
it would wait just a few moments longer.
A few moments.
Soon the shadows would fall like a blanket
covering the skies, turning it black, the
weather cold and frightful. An ebony glaze of
peculiar cause pending its own existence within
the specter of unpretentious irony to those who
believed naught in the impeccable doom that lured
overhead. An emerald light, one so unfamiliar and yet,
so well-known shown within the crevice of a darkened
gaze, hazy yet precise in its offerings. A power nearly
palpable from a distance and even more so up close.
An aura so strong, so dominant, exuded within the
very core of one seemingly so young though she
insinuated every nature of what was expected through
her own being. Had the time come at last?
Rumors; that was all it had been from the very beginning
with no proof of truth and yet it had been the truest of
all things to which no one promptly understood.
I am your creator.
I am your ruler.
I will d e s t r o y you.
Realms were spawned in order to dismantle, a form of
dissipation and nothing more. Such was Oz; a pastime,
a gratification of sorts awaiting to be taken out when needed.
Or so the rumors had deemed it so.
But what was truth? Perhaps, it would soon be revealed.
Maleficent watched through a hazy gaze from the eyes of
her beloved preferred as if the dragon herself had been present
within that very room, watching the Wicked one in her entirety,
an inquisitive gaze catching forth what could only be described
a perplexing presumption.
❝ Something you want of me, then? ❞
Yes, the dragon thought, but can you procure it?
The raven cawed once more in the woman’s presence, claws
gripping tightly onto her clothed shoulder, digging through
the thick fabric of her dress and drawing the faintest hint
of blood before flapping his feathers and soaring off into
the sky, circling above her. Thick droplets of blood dripped
from its claws and soon the raven left through the opened
window of the castle, disappearing off into the distance.
The deep uneasiness was not a simple, fleeting feeling. It was strong;
it was deadly. There was S O M E O N E. Someone watching her.
Her barbed senses peaked; stood, on edge, at the very height of
herself … her heart … her wicked, wicked heart — did she have one
at all? what a funny little reminder it was — suddenly prominent; rapping
against her chest, almost as if it could reach her throat and spill out in
its harshness. There was someone. The Witch felt watched. Was it the
raven? The Raven, indeed? She eyed it, perched on her shoulder,
lowering her chin toward her collarbone and blinking, slowly. There was
a strange sort of intelligence to it — unlike any other creature the Witch
T h e r e
s o m e o n e.
But wasn’t there always s o m e o n e ?
❝ Ahh — ! ❞
Elphaba flinched as the claws met her skin; grit her teeth as they tore
into the soft verdigris and drew the blood there. Her tattered gown had
been torn, and the raven flew away. She watched the outline of it — —
watched as it dissipated into the grayness, fading, fading, fading … as
though never existing at all.
She straightened up; took shallow, loud breaths that rattled her chest,
in through her nose. She looked from side to side. No one. No one that
she could see.
If I am to be caught today, let it not be in haste:
let it be in pain — — and struggle. I will not be
watched and ridiculed until I melt …
Gripping her broom tighter, she brought it forward and, with one last
glance around, whipped her cape over her body, mounted, and took off,
quickly, into the sky.
The raven had gone in the same direction.
- - - - -
The desolate fortress was in sight; the Vinkus terrain rocky and
deserted, as always. The Witch veered in, closer, circling a few
times around the north tower to observe below. The gate was
closed; pulled up, as always … there were no monkeys visible;
no one in sight. It was as ominous as ever. Just the way Elphaba
had always known. Always preferred.
Nothing out of the ordinary …
She squinted, leaning forward onto the handle of her whisk. The broom
dipped, slightly; surprisingly obediently, catching the edge of the wind,
and she descended. Angling herself at just the right moment, she spiraled
downwards, until she approached the window of her Solar, and then
traveled through, much like a peregrine falcon in pursuit of its prey. As
she neared the sill, she pulled up, and let her feet touch the stone.
Dismounting her broom, she stood, straight, brows furrowed, and held
it tightly in place, entering the room.
Caw … !
A flutter of wings; a pair of beady, black eyes. Widening her own,
Elphaba froze; stared. The raven from before was here; perched on
one of her high shelves, atop a flask of empty herbs used for potion
making. The Witch blinked, owlishly, and slowly approached —
leaning forward, setting her broom against the wall along the way —
and crooked a finger out.
❝ You again … ❞
Suddenly, a flash of green. Elphaba turned her head toward the window
once more; her crystal ball — her looking glass. It was glowing …
changing. Perplexed, the Witch edged nearer to watch. Slowly, it faded
into something strange and new entirely … and, as she peered within its
depths, she saw them … green, yellow, purple hues … smoke, moving in
snake-like circles around a shadow … a dragon … its forked, yellow
tongue peeking out as it opened its razor-toothed mouth, eyes narrowed,
yellow slits … Elphaba stopped, staring at it.
She had, somehow, seen this dragon before.
Was it the same one from her dreams?
TWO THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED OH MY GOD WHAT THE WHAT HOW??
So to be frank, I didn’t think I’d ever make it here. Not with how slow I am, how
few people I tend to interact with, and how unfriendly my muse is… yet here
you all are, and I’m just really blown away!! Thank you to everyone who follows,
puts up with, RPs with, and has patience with me. I am slow, I am unreliable,
and I’m sorry for making you guys wait so long sometimes. I hope you
continue to think me worth your time :3
themagnificenthatter | assilat-vojjor | kovotojas | oflocksley | maimedlion
dragonstallion | decoris-onos | darkmajestylamia | sergeantjamesbarnes
littlevioletwolf | itselphie | lilmisslydiamartin
aloneinmycage | anicelybandiedword | archerofdurin | apolloxadama | blackswan-odette | betawithascarf | callsignlongshot | cannotcontrolher | cattullystark | clawsofwit | coliturx | divineweapon | dreamshadeandlillies | elenaishuman | empressium | evigilare | eyesiight | formerbravo | gavrxche | grishildr | goldeneyesofcamelot | herunfailingkindness | honourguard | ihateyourvest | imcomingthrough | immortallockwood | incissam | isoutthere | its-henrymills | jecrismonhistoire | kinginnuendo | littlewinterdove | magnaveneficus | malignitas—mali | materxnatura | memorixkvina | merchantfinesse | mikaels-son | mkuundogo | motherofasgard | motherviper | notatrueknight | no-time-for-stories | ofpureheart | oftheisles | onemansinsanity-onecatsreality | prxtotype | praefectumaquilonis | pxntmercy | queenxcersei | quietgravedigger | red-as-rose | sandsofchaos | sarcasmandbatsaremyonlydefense | shaeisdabest | shatteredwhitecrow | silkssongsandchivalry | southernsideburns | soeuratous | swynford-de-beaufort | tellthewolvesimhomex | thetasteofinnocence | theyoungsir | thiefoflocksley | ursiines | untamedprince | verdigrxs | vidarrson | velmakiller | withpureheart | whoresnboars | whatever-im-deadpool | xlitigo | xpassionne | xmelancolique | xtoujourspurx | yoursaviorhasarrived || ooc blogs || wantingfornothing | aheartforaqueen | dear-indies | sebstxns
Thank you. That truly means so much.
Just fyi. Elphaba never said the quote “my capacity for evil is in thinking in epigrams.” That is something I had her say. She said, and I quote “Mine is in thinking in epigrams.”
So, once again, thanks. Thanks for stealing just about everything I took to make the interpretation my own.
That may seem small, but when literally everything else you’ve used in your version has been snagged by the same person, this last thing is just enough to push you over the edge. I know the person taking from me is reading this. I know you stalk my blog.
Stop. Taking. Things.
“I’m not certain you even know the meaning of the word.”
❝ I often mix ‘personal boundary’ with the definition of ‘unnecessary.’
Considering they should both mean the same damn thing.
Hence, well. My confusion.
He is a man, Regina. Only a man. ❞
[ she’s going to make you a permanent
mute if you don’t shut up. ]
❝ Have I missed the boundary rule again. ❞
Well, aren’t you all quieter than good little church mice. You should be so lucky. The silence is almost uncomfortable.
If it so suits you, perhaps you might like this for a starter of some sort. Of course, I cannot promise any sort of quickness … but it will be a good way for me to keep track of where the interest lies.
Or, you might tag me in a starter. Save me the work. For I do not have minimal amounts, what with being on the run from a Wizard out for my hide and caring for monkeys with wings. Do what you like.
Or don’t. It is not my concern, after all.
- E Thropp x
No Good Deed by tsbranch (deviantart)
” 'Wicked Witch… of the West' huh?
Well I can see why they call you that.
And I don’t have to lie about it…
…this time. Because I am
I’m from a place that is not here.
You don’t have to know the name. “
≺ ✘ ≻ —— ;
❝ Yes. And children don’t have to terrorize themselves into wretched seclusion and claw at their mothers sides until they get what their selfish little hearts desire, but that doesn’t stop them. Some things cannot be stopped. I should surmise your unrestrained tongue is one of them, you fool. What do you know about me??? You can see why they might call me the Wicked Witch of the West?? Well, why is that, elfish boy? Is it because I am so terribly unpleasant? Surely it can’t be because I am green — for, unless I am colorblind, you seem to understand the dilemma. And there cannot be two Wicked Witches of the West, can there? ❞