Title: am I an inch away
Information: Wicked, book-verse, Elphaba/Glinda, PG
Elphaba elbows and knees her way through the storm, her umbrella held like a shield before her, and her cloak wrapped like mummy’s skin double-tight as the wind makes the water unpredictable. Her boots cling to her shins, chafing the skin, and her face is hardly visible in the changing light.
She thinks that there could be something in the way the air forces Glinda’s hair to snap around her face, blond curls tangling and untangling in a constant battle with the wind. Elphaba’s own dark hair is pulled back in a simple plait, but Glinda’s loose locks fly, crazed and free, catching on her rosebud lips and building into tornadoes of curl before settling, momentarily, on a flushed cheek.
“What positively horrid weather,” Glinda sputters, tugging her coat more tight across her waist, cinching her books a bit closer. “How they expect us to work under these conditions is utterly questionable.”
Elphaba says nothing, pressing on as she is against the next smattering of wet, thick, drops from the sky. Someday, she thinks, she will be the wind working its way between the carefully ironed curls on Glinda’s head. Someday, she will fly over Oz just to touch that skin.