AN: Wicked does not belong to me. None of the characters, book, musical, anything. I wish it did thought.
Warning apostrophies don't work on this machine.
Summary: Post Musical, Elphaba creates a journal of her and Fiyeros journey out of Oz. Just got this idea after I made a MySpace Journal as Elphaba.
So it has been an hour since Fiyero and I left Oz. I hated leaving Glinda that way, thinking that I melted with only my hat and green bottle to remain. I really do wish she could know that we are alive! Glinda, if you find his, Im alive, Im alright. But as Fiyero has told me on many occasions, nobody can know if we want to be safe. Id love to feel as if we were safe right now, but with the rain pelting down the brim of my hat, all I feel is cold and wet. Fiyero, bless him, tries to keep me warm but he doesnt have any body heat to offer. At least, not since I turned him into a scarecrow. I still feel very much responsible for making him into a common farm tool, than I let on. It makes matter a bit better when he lies to me about not minding it so much. When we rest, I see him examining different parts of his new form. His hands, face, lips, legs; all of straw. I love him in any form, and he tells me constantly that he feels the same way towards me.
Well I have to leave this now, were stopping to get some supplies. I have to wrap myself in a heavy cloak, so not to be recognized. The joys of being dead
Fresh Dreams All,