(SOMEWHERE IN THE MORTAL REALM)
Low Scraping and hissing followed behind a haggard figure clothed from head to toe in a black shroud that looked torn, old and dirty. Almost a breath a way from being torn apart by the harsh and dry winds along the scorched grounds of the desert.
The figure kept dragging the lifeless body of a man with every staggering step it took with its bare feet.
It burned.
The heat beneath, above and around its frailing body burned more than the poison taking over its senses bit by bit.
Her eyes were hollow and darkened, her skin almost the ugliest shade of blue as dark lines marred every inch of the deceased body.
The Formless Dimension paused to roll her eyes to the back of her head, her mouth parting slightly as she grasped for relief from the pain that threatened her existence.
She took in her most known form, the one of a bald child as she moved under the scorching sun and was reminded so much why she hated the mortal realm so badly.
