she’d trusted Glinda ; trusted Glinda when she arrived here,
Glinda the GOOD ——- after all. no good could come of the
witch having the shoes ; none at all. the idea that she was even
ever so slightly considering it was out of the question. but she
was. weighing up her options, nose bunched up in thought.
❝ I can’t trust you. What if you do
TERRIBLE things? AWFUL things? & then
it’ll be my fault. I can’t let you
have them if you’re going
to do things like that. ❞
she sighs, shaking her head, & eyes down upon the ground.
the lingering feeling of sympathy remains when she looks
back up at the witch. she sighs, & shakes her head again,
lips pressed into a tight line. ❝ I can’t. ❞
–––––– ☂ ––––––
she could feel BLOOD gathering in her palms as her nails
dug deeper into the flesh. all of her muscles were tensed,
refraining from any sudden outburst. all she sees in the girl
is pity, which she loathes, and, of course, the shoes.
“ but what of my intentions? if those shoes have any such power to do
harm do you honestly believe Lady Glinda would’ve entrusted them to a
child like you. stop your quivering and heed my advice, child. you are out
of your element here. you understand not what has gone on before your
arrival and I’d put a strong stake on the fact that you never could. this is
not child’s play. now give me my shoes. ”