drabbletag: 'colours' [Wicked]
Fandom: Wicked [novel]
Prompt: Glinda/Nessarose, 'colours'
*Pairings: Glinda/Nessarose and Glinda/Elphaba
Requested by: soscaredtolove
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 230
She could see them, through the crack in the door. Touching. Hands brushing as they spoke, the motions so relaxed that they probably didn’t even realise what they were doing.
Nessarose scowled; this wasn’t how it was meant to be. She knew that she and Elphaba were not exactly a desirable pair, but she, the unfortunate cripple, was at least the attractive one. Elphaba was green - not at all pitiable, just ugly.
Yet Glinda was touching Elphaba, not her. Touching the lizard girl. Kissing her, even, because they didn’t know that Nanny had left the door ajar while she took her nap. Didn’t know that Nessarose was watching them, brimming with hatred for her sister who had what she didn’t, and for Glinda who wasn’t like everyone else yet who should have been.
Nessarose had not come to Shiz to be overlooked. It should have been her that Glinda was touching - the pretty, white one, not the artichoke. Those rosebud lips should have been brushing against her neck, and her cheeks, as Glinda’s fingers freed her breasts from her corset.
But they never would, because there could be no tender locking together of palms, no fond cupping of Glinda’s face as they kissed. Nessarose, pretty and inoffensively coloured, could not touch back. It didn’t matter what shade Elphaba’s skin was - she would always have the upper hand.
Prompt: Glinda/Nessarose, 'colours'
*Pairings: Glinda/Nessarose and Glinda/Elphaba
Requested by: soscaredtolove
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 230
She could see them, through the crack in the door. Touching. Hands brushing as they spoke, the motions so relaxed that they probably didn’t even realise what they were doing.
Nessarose scowled; this wasn’t how it was meant to be. She knew that she and Elphaba were not exactly a desirable pair, but she, the unfortunate cripple, was at least the attractive one. Elphaba was green - not at all pitiable, just ugly.
Yet Glinda was touching Elphaba, not her. Touching the lizard girl. Kissing her, even, because they didn’t know that Nanny had left the door ajar while she took her nap. Didn’t know that Nessarose was watching them, brimming with hatred for her sister who had what she didn’t, and for Glinda who wasn’t like everyone else yet who should have been.
Nessarose had not come to Shiz to be overlooked. It should have been her that Glinda was touching - the pretty, white one, not the artichoke. Those rosebud lips should have been brushing against her neck, and her cheeks, as Glinda’s fingers freed her breasts from her corset.
But they never would, because there could be no tender locking together of palms, no fond cupping of Glinda’s face as they kissed. Nessarose, pretty and inoffensively coloured, could not touch back. It didn’t matter what shade Elphaba’s skin was - she would always have the upper hand.