Desolate Desert; Desolate Demon

[Anonymous]

Sand howled around the human figure in the distance, whirling around its woeful being as if it tried to rip it apart.  Somehow this poor creature had sauntered directly into the Moraki Desert—how did it go from the fine beauty of the forests to this desolate desert?  As we come closer to this benevolent spirit—well usually benevolent—we find that it is not even a human.  This creature is in fact a horned demon, its body constructed to bring forth mayhem and chaos.  Muscles ripple beneath taught flesh as it walked, shoulders rolling in an unstoppable mannerism.  The visage of this vision of vehemence holds a sour pout, for though it can handle these conditions, it despises them.  Those fragments of rock lick at its body, laughing with the wind as they bombard its back and chest.  Four days now the being had been walking in this desert; four days to walk and wonder what on this gracious earth would bring about such an area.  Maybe today it would find civilization, a diamond in the rough.  Thick lips deepened into a frown as it looked into the distance, seeing nothing more than sand and more sand.

A cry echoed across the wasteland—carrying over the dunes and suffocating the sound of the wind.  Sand erupted upward as thick knees came to crash downward, arms held rigidly by its sides.  Merica's face was turned upward toward the blazing sun, mouth wide and horns shimmering in the desert light.  Its orifice stretched wide as it howled once more, tired of the desolation; tired of the loneliness; tired of the desert.  Large fists found their way into the face of the sand as the tantrum of the demonoid continued.  Large, coal black eyes squinted as tears fell from their ducts, staining his dirt ridden face.

"Why do you tease me?" asked the being to no one in particular; veins of energy wisped about is person.  Thick green vines formed upon its temples as its large mandibles were clenched; clawed fingers found their way into wide palms.  "Why?" it muttered again.  Slowly the darkened demon rose, muscles quivering with a new found source of energy:  Rage.  Its figure stumbled forward, continuing on its way through the desolate desert; a desert with unfound beauty; a desert that mimicked the desolate soul of a demon searching for self worth and beauty...

[Anonymous]

She had been asleep, and the scream had woken her from a thousand year slumber, a true scream of rage from her One True Love.

That above, that would be an interesting way to start Sh'she's side of the story. Of course, it wasn't true, as Sh'she would never sleep for a thousand years(how silly!), and also, and anyways, One True Loves were a crock and anyone who was anyone knew it. No, the truth of the matter was that Sh'she had stumbled across Merica a day and  half ago, but hadn't really been sure that she wanted to bother interfering. After all, he seemed capable enough--but if there was one thing that Sh'she hated, it was people crying, and if there was another thing that she hated it was people screaming.

And this person was quite loud.

Sh'she twirled a desert flower in her fingertips as she rose from the sand, as much a part of it as separate. She rose pointedly in Merica's path, those not very close to him--far enough away that might have been mistaken as a mirage before Sh'she smiled at him. "Lost?" she asked, cradling the flower to her chest. This day, she was a human woman-child, no older than perhaps sixteen, skin the pale color of the sand and hair chestnut and pulled back into a low ponytail. She wore a soft cotton dress that wavered and fluttered in the breeze. Against her bosom, the desert flower was purple. And beautiful.