She.

Her inaudible voice was a whisper upon the wind, her sudden visage so beautiful he could have wept in his slumber. In the hazily listless way of dreams she came to him, crisp and cold as a winter’s morning. Surrounding her as though a crown, white roses in triumphant bloom. From the sky, the icy petals fell upon them as she squirmed beneath him, naked as the day she was born. The only thing she wore was a pendant around her neck, silver upon alabaster skin.

She had given herself to him completely; her cool body becoming his ocean, beating back against him as relentless as the current breaking against immovable rock. Her grey eyes were endlessly pained, rapture and torment all at the once. He was bringing her close to the edge, an edge which he had long since fell headfirst over.

She moaned. Then, for the slightest second, she became a black phantom made of ice, ice that pierced into his burning flesh.

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