The wind gusted steadily, blowing blinding gray dust across desolate, ruined plains. Gray stones, almost like monuments to what had been, leaned away from the wind. A figure walked from the sandy storm, coming into view as a black silhouette. Hair as long as most people are tall whipped in the wind, cool blue eyes gave way to no emotion. Her clothes were sandy, dry, and torn, but she didn't mind. She stopped at one of the stones, as if it was an obelisk to guide her, and sat down in the shadow it left. The sand, by no means ignored her. It continued to swirl about, perhaps even fiercer with the turbulence the stone created. She looked up at the stone monument, unblinking in a sandstorm that would normally cost you your sight. She took a deep breath, not bothered by the grains of sand that would tear our lungs apart. She ran her hand through the gray powder, something that would’ve made mincemeat out of normal hands. She looked at the shadow the light had created. Small patches of normal sand existed, the obelisk’s shadow having protected it. She ran her hand through it and put a small amount in her pocket. She stood up and continued on through the deadly storm, not bothered by any of the things that would kill normal people. Not the radiation. Not the glass slivers. Not the terrors beneath her feet. Nothing phased her, for better or for worse.