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All that could be heard was quiet sobbing as Glinda clutched the worn hat to her chest, hand in a vice grip around a tiny green bottle. There couldn't be... and yet as she sat there, the air became cold, and Chistery was merely waiting with patience as Glinda let her grief fill the air. It wasn't ever supposed to be Elphie that she lost. Never Elphaba. Elphaba Thropp deserved all the good things. Not to die at the hands of some child regarding some shoes due to a mindless fascist regarding rights.
And yet, it didn't take long for everything to settle, and Glinda could hear the ringing of the bells, sweet Lurline. How long had she been sitting there? And slowly sitting up, Glinda knew. She had heard her friends request and while she wanted to fulfill it. The thought of what she just had to do was devastating.
It was the possibility that killed Glinda the most, the realization struck as she slowly uncurled herself. If she had looked a little closer towards the ground she would've found some unevenly cut flooring.
But Glinda was too carried with her grief to notice. The lack of a presence felt too strongly in her bones. How was she supposed to...? The fact the two of them really had the possibility to change Oz, and yet here they were. The thought of days at Shiz long gone, brought another bitter wave and ache. She grit her jaw as she stepped out into the air to summon her bubble, trying to just keep moving, to not think of it she knew if she spared a second of grief she might fall apart.
And yet she knew in Oz, word spread like wildfire. Glinda just hoped the tears dried by the time she reached Munchinland.
The nights that would follow would be restless, the good witch of Oz working on new laws, while staying in her study to practice her painting skills. She only had so many memories of the green witch, and Glinda wanted to capture every one. The witches freckles. Slender hands. Her glasses. The hat.
That wicked hat. Now sat by her beside on one of their first spellbooks. As a reminder. It was funny because the truth was Glinda always had secretly loved that hat her granny gave her. When Shenshen and Pfannee had brought it out all those years ago, Glinda had tried her best to save face. That had been one of the few articles she actually adored, but had been trying to just keep it in the background. Instead it ended up being a symbol for the descent of rebellion her best friend made. And it was all that was left.
A girl who shone so bright her skin was emerald and all Glinda got was that stupid hat and bottle.
The yearning always came in waves with the grief. It passed like static some days. Intertwined as some mornings, Glinda would sit at her desk and review some more requests or laws, and it would be something small. One of the letters remarking 'they couldn't care less' and Glinda couldn't help but echo the words of her best friends ghost, correcting the grammer quietly.
It was the small ways, that Glinda kept Elphaba alive. In the ways she knew how. In the ways only they knew. Decorating the castle with some poppies, certain breakfasts made certain mornings. She knew that as the years went on, it would be harder to keep her memory sacred.
It was supposed to be the two of them together in Oz. How Elphaba had said she wouldn't leave Glinda behind, and yet here Glinda was. Wondering if Elphaba ever thought of her with the sunrise.