|Elphaba Thropp (norestforwicked) wrote in not_a_ngo,|
@ 2011-04-02 19:17:00
|Entry tags:||!intro, alice cullen, arthur pendragon|
I, who have always been unbecoming, am becoming un.
Red sun; black robes - silence; no sweat.
It's just not in her nature.
Elphaba takes her boots off and shrieks at the smell. It's been a while since she got out of the river (How did a river managed to fit into a bucket, pray say?) and she has strayed as further away from water as she could.
She tries to summon anger for Dorothy, for Glinda, for Nessarose, even for Lir and his stupid fascination with Dorothy (everybody loves the sweet and ignorant Dorothy) - but it's all fading. What she still knows is that she will get those shoes, but she will never get forgiveness for Fyiero. Dear Fyiero.
She watches lazily her monkey flapping its wings.
She's just green; and empty.