𝘾𝘼𝙇𝙇 𝙈𝙀 𝙒𝙄𝘾𝙆𝙀𝘿.

- deny the nature of them as 'dark'. What else could they ever be? An inspiration to the darkness lurking both in and out of reality. The corrupt half of the soul.

❝ True enough. People fear what they don't understand. But the spells they fear the most -- are the ones that can hurt them. Poison. Petrification. Storms. ❞

She snaps her fingers as if to demonstrate how easily she could conjure up any one of those spells as easily as a gesture. No one could -

- faint of heart. ❞

❝ The more fear it strikes into people's souls, dearie. The less you understand of it, the better. ❞

A force like electricity travels between her fingertips. She manages to catch it each time; control it as easily as breathing, but not once do her eyes break gaze with her own.

❝ It's not for the -

She simply lowers her head and extends her hand towards the back of its neck, caressing it gently, as she did her winged monkeys.

The ones that weren't capable of talking back to her, anyways...

❝ Hngh... ❞

She reels her head away, but not after animal slobber stings and burns her face. A slight adverse reaction to water, but it wasn't too bad; not as bad as a splash.

Stumbling backward, she uses a black cloth to wipe the saliva off her skin quickly and huffs and disgruntlement.

*Kansas

A thin red mist erupts silently a distance away, then, is dispersed with the wave of a green-skinned hand.

Eerie, hollow eyes peer from the darkness and observe the crying child. How similar it was from that brat from Kanses; an experience like... hopelessness.

- her lips as she tosses a fireball from her fingertips into the room, and she lights it all aflame. She lowers her hat and shrieks as her skin burns from the tears running down her cheeks.

Wordlessly, she asks to the very wind itself, 'do they even know who you used to be?'

- falling down with a thud.

It's still intact the way it was. The way it was when everything was so simple. Her finger slides upon the bed and she finds something old. A hairbrush. Beauty supplies. A set of hats.

The witch clenches her fist and she clenches it hard. A low growl lets loose from -

- She is unbothered.

The witch climbs herself up a fleet of stairs, stomping all the way there. No broom to carry her up this time. She wanted to scale the length herself.

Finally, she makes her way to a very familiar floor of the dormitory. And the Western Wind blows open the door, sending it -

She walks into a set of doors left to ruin by the scars of time. Surrounded by nothing but shadow, she advances into the gloom and the memories.

Wheelers cackle madly as they zoom from every which way behind her, using this old forgotten place as a skating rink of sorts. She doesn't mind them. -

It's not easy being green, is it?

Source: Pete-Da-Graptor @ Deviantart

Lock your doors, and hide your children. Gloom will devour Oz this night. And the witching hour is at hand.

- so furious become humbled in a matter of moments. And she could tell, this one had fury to spare. Wouldn't be long before she shattered all of that into bits and pieces...

Or worse...

Fried him to a crisp....

❝ That's it, boy. Let out all that anger! Let it blind you until you're as sightless as a bat! Then, all your other senses will suffer all the worse! Kahahaha! ❞

She doubles over in laughter. The witch much enjoyed when others collapsed into fear, but nothing was more satisfying than seeing one -

❝ A pleasure, eh? Now, I / know / they've done a fowl job of capturing my wickedness... Not a sliver of fear on you... ❞

Elphaba flicks her finger and points it at a field of dandelions. They start to grow and stretch in shape and size. Until faces that resemble actual lions start to mutate onto their visage.

They catch a glimpse of Taokaka and release ear-splitting roars to the accompaniment of the witch's cackles.

❝ Oh, that was cancelled ages ago! If they're still fighting, then that means they still think the party's going... And I'll admit, the thought is amusing! ❞

❝ Hmph. Haven't heard one morsel who hasn't had their ears blasted out by the word, had their hearts shaken to bits by the sheer fear it entails...

Suppose its up to me to catch you up to speed then, dearie. A witch is a wielder of magic. Magic of the darkest caliber. ❞

⠀⠀
⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒂
⠀⠀

ᴅᴇᴇᴛᴢɪᴇ

I like giving off the impression that Elphaba is both actually really twisted and evil, but also a massive cornball, and doofus.

Like, those are just the vibes I get from her in all the media I've consumed with this version of the character.

-

Her eyes dart another way to see the scientist-turned-reptilian. No fear in each orb. As though she's used to seeing monsters like these wearing the cloth of man.

She smirks deeply.

❝ If that's what you do with goblins, dearie... I can only fantasize what you do to people. ❞

The witch watches the clouds with a grim expression. They were too light to produce rain. It was only cloudy, but any darker, and she would've been in danger.

She grips her broom and looks around, frustrated with the unfamiliarity of it all. Where has she landed? Not in Oz anymore, she'd guess.

-

- to get away with it! And they would suffer thricefold for the threat alone...

❝ You've got a mouth on you for someone so small! I should teach you a lesson for running it! You'll know soon enough not to trifle with a witch! ❞

Her voice growled into a roar, her fingertips glistening with magical power. She didn't care to know who insulted her; but whoever did wasn't about -