Two very different topics...
The air was ash.
The air was dry, blasted lands be damned, the hint of ashes of a world burned away that a stretch of time could not pass over as of yet.
The blasted lands beckoned, dry with decades old ash still not dwindled away.
[Protagonist] pulled at the air, testing its limits. Ash, like always.
He felt the air. Too much residue of ash; not enough sand for a living.
The world around [Protagonist] was blasted; like him it fled from humanity.
Dying, crying, deadly still and dry as ash; the Blasted Lands welcomed [Protagonist] like a lost son.
The mad sun beat down on [Protagonist]. The cracks in the ground belayed the history of ash.
The Blasted Lands whispered, ‘Ash, ash and hidden rewards for the ruthless and desperate, and some combination of both.”
Protagonist strode across the Blasted Lands, letting the dust of his feet swirl like the ashes they once were
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