Persephone's Champion

[middle_amazon]

Philadelphia is covered in a quite blanket of white. Lian is in back making snow forts as the cool ice falls on her stepmother's wind-blown face

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[aiminghigher]

A fourth shadow falls over her after a few moments, heralded only by near silent steps muffled by the snow.

"You look comfy, beautiful."

There's a gravel edge to his voice but it's still his. All told he doesn't look too bad for a dead man either....

[middle_amazon]

This is not the first lucid dream she's had in so many weeks. her eyes remain closed. "I'm sorry," she mutters. "I know you always loved my hair."

[aiminghigher]

He reaches down, stroking along her cheek, a light tender touch though his fingers are cold.

"It's alright." he murmurs. "But don't I at least get a welcome back kiss, Donna?"

And then those cold tender fingers slide down her jawline and wrap around her neck like a vice.

[middle_amazon]

The touch is what begins to lift the fog from her mind. The hand on her neck engages her instincts. Eyes snap open and her hand goes to his arm. Using her superior strength she attempts to throw him away from her.

[middle_amazon]

She prays she doesn't.

"You heard me! I know you sense it! I'm dying. You can either wait for my death - or you can hasten it."

[corps_of_death]

He steps forward, grinning. "Remember our wedding, Donna? Remember how pretty you were? So young. So eager."

[middle_amazon]

"Yes..."

[corps_of_death]

"Always so beautiful and so fragile. so in need of love and guidance" His grip land on her shoulder - powerful and possessive - and then strokes her collarbone lightly; just like he used to do.

"We're always going to be one," he gloats softly. "Admit it - " His grip becomes an iron vice on the back of her neck in a mockery of a passionate touch. "You can't break a promise."