*Rated "pW" for Previous Wielder. Deals with past lives. Based largely on conjecture, historical fact, and previous same-author fanfiction.
"Mabel!" she called out, her voice desperate, unfamiliar darkness everywhere. "May!"
"Elizabeth," she heard a man's smoothly cultured voice answer. "What are you doing?"
The voice's lack of investment--its cool, almost bemused detachment and lack of identifiable accent further disoriented her. She began to sob.
"She's gone, she's gone," he told her, as though soothing a child. The angle of his chin inched into a finger of moonlight, making its dimpling visible for an instant. "It was only a nightmare," he assured her, "just a dream. It's over now."
She could see nothing of him but chin and lower lip, and the narrowest sliver of bare shoulder. Even in the night--for surely it was now night--his face was clean-shaven to smooth perfection.
She rolled away from this half-seen man's offered embrace in the vision bed, her bare flesh and abdomen showing no visible sign of pregnancy, though her whole being felt the weight of it.
Gripping the satin bedsheet to cover herself, her confusion and her grief, her left hand again found not the bedcovering it had reached for, but instead, the scarf.
Sorry for the long drought between my posting sections. ;)
DISCLAIMERS: Elizabeth Bronte and the Witchblade (and additional characters that will make appearances in other chapters to come) are property of Top Cow and Warner Bros. I mean no disrespect, and am not making any money or profit out of their use here.
Any inaccuracies please chalk up to deliberate anachronism.
What happened to Elizabeth Bronte before Possession? Check out Occupation, posted here at fanfiction.net.
Neftzer 2003(c)
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