𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒

THIS  IS  AN  INDEPENDENT  &  SOMEWHAT  SELECTIVE  ROLEPLAY  BLOG  for  Elphaba  Thropp  of  Gregory  Maguire’s  Wicked:  The  Life  &  Times  of  the  Wicked  Witch  of  the  West,  as  well  as  the  Broadway  musical  of  the  same  name.  There  will  be  canon  influences  of  both  works  present  here  as  well  as  from  the  classic  Wizard  of  Oz  film.  If  you  know  the  story  of  Oz,  you  will  have  the  basics;  my  canon  is  mixed  and  divergent  across  all  works,  and  in  a  number  of  ways,  but  does  not  compete  with  the  film’s  storyline.  Also,  Liir  (Elphaba’s  son  in  the  novel)  as  well  as  Shell  are  not  present  in  this  blog’s  canon.   You  can  view  my  rules  (also  temporary  for  now)  for  a  more  concise  breakdown.

WARNING:  some  themes  of  political  and  social  oppression,  racism,  xenophobia,  mental  illness  and  violence,  as  well  as  gender,  or  lack  thereof,  and  body  dysmorphia  will  be  present  here.  if  this  content  is  triggering  to  you,  it  may  not  bode  well  for  you  to  follow.  i  try  to  tag  all  of  my  triggers. 

MUN  is  named  jenn!  21+,  she/her,  eastern  time  zone  of  the  usa.  i’ve  been  writing  elphaba  since  2012  and  have  loved  her  for  even  longer.  my  activity  can  be  sporadic  but  i  do  love  to  write  with  all  of  u  when  i  can  manage  one  whole  braincell.  i  am  very  approachable  and  not  much  offends  me.  just  be  polite  and  don’t  steal,  kthxbye.

                  “No. This is Peeves, the Poltergeist,” comes the response from beyond the doorway; though the voice is undeniably that of Regulus and he does not wait long before inviting himself in. “I’m here to shave the feathers from your quills.” Which sounds very much like something the Poltergeist would do, anyways.

                  He closes the door behind him and begins a slow, methodical pace towards the desk; and he notes that her candle is nearly expired, understanding how long she must have sitting in that same spot, working away at her business. 

                  “What will you do when the flame goes out?” he wonders, picking at some of the dripped wax with his fingertips. A section breaks off in his hand and he closes his fist around it, crumbling it into smaller pieces that fall to the floor where the rest of the candle has dripped, “Is that when you know to stop working, or will you shift your desk closer to the window and work by moonlight?” It is both a tease and not—he is smiling, though perhaps near-imperceptible in the dim light, and carefully watching the lines of her face.

                  “I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who works as tirelessly as you do. It’s both impressive and… a little intimidating. Some of the others think you never sleep at all.”

Elphaba’s  mouth  flattens  in  a  rather  thinly  veiled  amusement  at  the  Peeves  comment,  though  she  does  not  stop  working,  nor  does  she  glance  up  from  the  parchment.  Truly,  of  all  the  professors  residing  in  the  castle,  she  certainly  does  seem  to  be  one  of  the  unfortunates  sitting  higher  on  the  entity’s  list  of  Those  to  Terrorize,   and  she’s  certain  that  everyone  knows  it,  too.  Elphaba  suspects  it  is  likely  due  to  her  aloof  nature  and  her  somewhat  dramatic  temper;  absolute  fodder  for  a  poltergeist.  Children,  of  course,  were  not  much  different.  She’s  working  on  curving  that.

“  That  depends,  I  suppose,  ”  she  answers  his  candlelight  comment  with  a  swift  humor,  glancing  quickly  at  the  wax  crumbling  from  his  palm  and  onto  her  floor.   Anyone  else  may  have  been  met  with  a  quick  and  sharp  dismissal  at  such  a  bold  notion  --  certainly  they  could  not  have  even  come  in  here  in  the  first  place   . . .  but  there  is  something  Elphaba  enjoys  about  Regulus,  and  his  company.  He  is  not  an  imposing  person,  despite  his  genuine  skill;  not  pompous,  or  at  least  not  in  the  show-y  way  she  so  vehemently  despises.  His  showiness  comes  out  in  his  wit.  And  this  is  a  little  more  tolerable.  “  On  if  I’m  satisfied.  Of  course,  I  AM  a  Witch.  Some  say  we  rather  enjoy  a  good  MOON  BATH,  so.  ”  

She  finishes  dotting  her  letters  with  her  quill,  and  lifts  it  up,  toward  the  aforementioned  moon,  to  use  it  almost  as  a  backlight.  She  stretches  the  parchment  apart  with  her  spindly  fingers;  tilts  her  head,  as  if  looking  at  it  sideways  might  grant  her  the  answer.   For  a  long  moment  she  does  not  address  her  unexpected -  yet -  not  -  entirely  -  uninvited  company.  Squinting,  she  finally  shakes  her  head,  and  rolls  up  the  parchment  at  last,  placing  it  upon  the  desk.  “  Drat  and  damn,  damn,  damn.  ”  With  a  sharp  sigh  through  her  nose,  she  looks  at  Regulus.  She  can  see  that  he  is  smiling  in  the  dim  light  of  the  flame;  his  handsome,  silvery  smile  that  offers  a  chance  to  bounce  her  own  ideas  off  of  its  subtle  cunning.   She  finally  speaks.  

Elphaba  is  quite  touch  shy.  She  is  not  necessarily  touch  averse,  but  she  doesn’t  particularly  like  being  touched  by  others  unless  she  is  very  fond  of  them.  She  loathes  being  touched  as  a  comforting  gesture,  and  most  likely  will  not  react  well  to  a  hug  unless  it  is  from  someone  very  loved.

This  shyness  stems  from  the  fact  that  as  a  child,  she  was  often  used  by  her  father  in  convert  missions;  he  paraded  her  around  like  a  freak  of  nature,  almost,  and  many  of  his  target  populations  would  be  permitted  to,  and  thus,  touch  her  in  awe,  brush  her  face,  etc.  which  was  very  humiliating  and  dehumanising  for  her. 

      𝘈  𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘌𝘕𝘛   is  destined  to  love  their  children  ,  even  if  they  don’t  like  them  .  and  nessa  ,  being  around  her  father  for  long  periods  of  time  (  or  ,  at  the  very  least  ,  for  much  longer  than  her  sister  ever  is  )  can  see  that  the  man  doesn’t  completely  hate  his  eldest  daughter  .  at  times  ,  albeit  on  rare  occasions  ,  she  has  seen  him  beam  at  her  amidst  her  rantings  ;  they  are  more  similar  ,  than  they  are  different  .  the  two  share  their  passion  ,  even  if  for  different  things  .  they  have  a  way  with  words  ,  although  they  can’t  seem  to  convince  each  other  about  anything  .  separated  by  beliefs  and  household  power  ,  nessarose  becomes  their  middle  ground  .      ❛  i  think  he  felt  sorry  for  how  he  reacted  at  dinner  ,  ❜  she  says  ,  noting  silently  how  even  frexspar  had  left  quickly  after  their  quarrel  .  while  nessa  has  no  proof  that  it  had  come  from  guilt  ,  she  likes  to  believe  that  he’d  felt  at  least  a  bit  bad  about  it  .  a  half  frown  ,  hoping  that  elphaba  would  buy  into  what  she  was  saying  if  she  did  so  .  ❛  he  retired  to  his  room  almost  instantly  –  and  i  tried  to  get  him  to  understand  .  ❜       she  was  not  only  suggesting  that  their  father  would  be  more  likely  to  send  elphaba  than  nanny  to  be  polite  .  nessa  did  feel  as  though  that  would  be  the  case  .  and  if  she  were  to  ask  ,  to  say  that  it  would  make  her  feel  more  comfortable  ,  he  would  have  to  agree  .  elphaba  was  more  than  capable  for  the  task  ,  and  could  act  as  a  tutor  as  well  .      ❛  i  think  he  would  ,  ❜  nessarose  says  with  complete  sincerity  and  a  smile  to  her  sister  .  too  often  ,  does  her  father  threaten  to  take  things  away  unreasonably  from  the  other  –  and  perhaps  nessa  does  feel  the  weight  on  her  shoulders  of  having  to  always  resolve  these  sorts  of  things  .  ❛  he’ll  do  it  for  me  ,  you  know  he  will  .  ❜

Elphaba  can  see  that  Nessarose  is,  as  usual,  the  mediator,  and  she  lets  herself  exhale,  attempting  to  extinguish  her  fire  once  and  for  all,  if  for  no  one’s  sake  but  her  sister’s.  There  is  a  long  moment  of  silence   –  –   she  blinks,  once,  twice,  slowly,  taking  in  her  sister’s  words.   I  TRIED  TO  GET  HIM  TO  UNDERSTAND.   I  TRIED.  Well,  and  there  was  the  rub,  wasn’t  it?  Nessarose  still  has  that  youthful,  soft  and  light  word  so  aligned  with  her  own  skin,  her  own  fragility,  etched  into  her  chest;  her  skin,  her  soft  face.  I  tried,  I tried.   It’s  no  wonder  she  is  the  favorite,  Elphaba  realizes,  once  again,  calmly,  and  she  is  mine  too.  She  tries.  Nessarose  still  is  convinced;  faithful   –  –   even  hopeful.  That  to  try  in  the  face  of  all  is  worthwhile,  even  in  matters  of  faith  itself.   A  far  better  person  than  I.   I  cannot  hope;  hope  has  cost  me  too  much.  Hardly  do  I  know  what  it  feels  like  at  all.  But  it  is  very  human,  I  suppose,  to  hope.

                                 HE’LL  DO  IT  FOR  ME,  YOU  KNOW  HE  WILL.

           That  I  do,  Nessarose.  THAT  I  DO.   AND  SO  WILL  I,  FOREVER,  FOR  YOU.

     silence  had  veiled  the  atmosphere.   an  eerie  one,  at  that.  in  throat,  syllables  had  begun  to  mould,  but  hadn’t  fled  right  away.  thoughts  had  been  gathered  afore  it.       ❝       the  world  has  wonderful  things  to  offer.  i  know,     ━━━━     i’ve  read  about  them.  i’ve  seen  a  few  as  well.  why  not  give  it  a  chance?      ❞       atop  all  other  sentiments,  one  had  always  been  illuminated.  the  memory  so  bittersweet,  so  tangible.  the  enchantress’  gift        [  …  ]        one  that’d  allowed  her  to  escape.  even  if  for  a  little  while.       ❝      why  not  see  the  beauty  of  it?      ❞       cautiously  had  a  hand  been  placed  on  the  woman’s  shoulder,   no  hidden  motives  behind  caring  orbs.     /    @westvvitch​​ .

THE  WITCH  glances  up,  yanked  from  her  deep  crystal  of  jade,  a  silent,  curt  jump  at  the  touch;  she  stares  at  the  hand  upon  her  shoulder;  the  touch  heavy  as  lead  and  deeper  a  proof  of  her  failure  in  this  world  still.  CAN  THIS  WORLD  EVER  RELEASE  ME  FROM  THIS  CRUELTY,  THIS  LONGING  FOR  A  FORGIVENESS  I  NEVER  RECEIVED  ?  WAS  IT  ENDLESS ?  

“  Yes,  yes,  wonderful  things.  DO  NOT  DOUBT  ME,  MY  PRETTY  --  I’ve  seen  enough  WONDERFUL  to  last  a  lifetime  and  then  some  and  already  I  am  begging  for  my  own  to  finish,  ”  her  reply  is  a  hissing  retort;  a  response  devoid  of  irony  that  still  seems  sarcastic,  somehow,  but  the  Witch  is  being  truthful,  and  she  is  thinking  of  the  Wizard.  

Closing  her  eyes,  the  Witch  takes  a  sharp  inhale,  suddenly,  and  almost  screeches  at  Belle’s  last  statement,  teeth  grit  in  fury.

Also known as her relationship with her sense of self worth, or lack thereof.

There are a lot of differences between Elphaba’s relationship with her father, Frex (notably he is not her biological father, but Elphaba doesn’t know this and neither does he) in the novel vs. in the musical. The novel sets their relationship as tragic and difficult, but with a sense of unrequited love (on Elphaba’s side), while the musical is more outright in its assumption that EIphaba has been neglected and possibly abused by an angry Frex. I am portraying the dynamic with a mix of both, but more canon to the novel, as I think it’s more nuanced. 

Elphaba’s father was a minister of Unionism (basically Oz’s equivalent to Catholicism) and as a parent, he is also what I would pin as a covert narcissist. Elphaba’s entire existence, in his eyes, was about him: his own failures, what she could do for his cause, etc. She was green according to him because of a curse; because he had failed to protect his parishioners on the day of her birth, and he does not shy away from telling her this. He also claims, repeatedly, that Elphaba was a terror as a child, and only calmed down and became “more human” once Nessarose was born: thus, Elphaba apparently has her sister to thank for all of her “goodness.” (This is quite untrue, as Elphaba was a very quiet, observant, and calm baby, even before Nessarose is born) 

From the very beginning Elphaba was viewed as a mark of Frex’s own failure, with Nessarose being the golden cure, the treasure, the pet. Frex projected all of his own shortcomings onto Elphaba, and she was never treated as anything but an extension of that.  He also used Elphaba constantly in his sermons and conversion missions; she was a tool to convert others to his cause.  He would have her sing solemn hymns, lead in prayer, and show his converts that, if the Unnamed God can love someone like HIS cursed child, he can love and accept anyone. 

Elphaba was always treated as a child worth less than any other human; a child not of her own being, but of Frex’s will. 

At the same time, confusingly for Elphaba, Frex did not go without his show of affection from time to time. They would get into fights often, as Elphaba was a headstrong individualist despite this treatment -- even rebelliously so, as she grew older. But Elphaba also always loved her father, despite being incredibly angry and frustrated with him, and she wanted, more than anything, to help him, to appease his sadness, to be the child he needed.

It is a dyanmic she never truly understands, and never recovers from the trauma of. 

Elphaba’s relationship with her father paves the way for her behavior in life. She pours her entire being into her cause, her anarchy, her fight for the Animals, and everything else, her identity, her health, her mental wellbeing, her relationships with others . . . it’s all not even considered as holding any sort of importance; everything else is a sidenote. Elphaba truly has no sense of self identity, besides guilt, and the guilt she projects onto everyone into her life -- a mark of her traumatic childhood as a symbol of failure -- as everything that goes wrong for Frex being her fault. 

westvvitch​: ELPHABA

“Foolish? Grotesque?” He was nearly in SHOCK his presence had been described in such a way. Truthfully, he had indeed arrived unannounced and on a WHIM, however he felt it was rather flashy- arriving in style was his specialty. “I find it rather- intriguing, don’t you?” He wondered, a hand placed onto his hip while the other moved in motion with his words. Brows furrowing, but only for a moment- before his lips pulled a SMIRK. “What would be the point of a proper entrance when I could just- “ He made a swirling motion with his fingers, “Magically appear?”