"Follow me
into the desert."

The black sun rolled into the background, its heat castrating the soil, scorching it.

Eyelashes batted up at the dead sky, black eyeliner to keep the sun from burning her retina.

It was the only place in the world where the dead wasn't cold; their skin boiled and caught on fire.

She's seen it before.

While wasting away in her burnt up, peeling skin,

She was alive, and thankful, but always in pain

That's how it worked. . .It wouldn't kill you, but it'd put you close.

She is a child on an infinite plane, a sea of sand. . .

Drifting between desperate dunes

nodding and melting and

fading away

for ever
and ever

Kandy woke up with her head glued to the bar, a drink still fitted between her calloused fingers. The glass was full of swill and soot, but she wouldn't have it any other way. Trying to support her tired eyes, she pressed the edge of the glass against her coarse, parched lips and let the liquid drain down her esophogus slowly, as if it had a supreme thickness to it. Intrigued about the texture and absolute shittiness of the glass' contents, she opened her jaw and let the rest of the mixture down her throat, placing the cup on the table rather roughly.

She didn't bother looking around and judging the characters of the other patrons; her mind was muddy. Her forehead glistened in sweat, tears formed just barely beads at the corner of her eyes from downing the drink and bits of crust formed at the edges of her lip. Primally and almost aggressively she breathed through her nose, rattling two intertangled rings.

Her chin was apprehended and forced to face to her right; it was a large, bulky man with a handlebar mustache. His fur vest was left open, a tattoo of a dragon strewn across his chest, his other hand where it ought not be.
"Girl, yer' mouth looks like it wer' made t'suck my kiss--"
Lips engaged, Kandy reacted instinctively and shot her fist into his gut, which, given the reactive force, would've been enough to knock him back. He didn't fall back because her teeth clenched around his bottom lip; she could taste his blood rolling into her own mouth.

Removing her teeth from the flap of skin, she threw her right arm to collide
her fist into his cranium, smashing his skull into the bar; his eyes rolled back
Then a sharp pain recinded against Kandy, forcing her off between the stools; she looked up and saw the back end of a chair and the man controlling it continued to try to bash at her, but couldn't get through the stools. It was a dark Cruentai; she grabbed a chair leg
and forced it into his teeth,
and he instantly spat back, holding his mouth, blood crawling through his fingers

Kandy scrambled from between the stools and found her original assailer was awake and angry; he grabbed her and pinned her torso against the bar, his mouth moving uselessly. She thought fast and grabbed at his ears and angrily tore his earings out. In an instant flash of pain, he reeled into a numbing, almost petrified state of pain; taking advantage of his disorientation, she forced her shin between his legs. The man collapsed within moments, eyes scrunched.

Another rugged fellow came from behind and grappled her arms to her side. He tried to wrangle her around, using eachothers momentum
back
and forth
and
until she slammed his fingers against the bar
he fumbled on his grip and she picked up her glass, smacked him in the face with it, and then smashed the pint glass against the bar; it cracked into a million pieces and her hand scrunched up the broken shards, 
she could feel it cut into her
and she forced the bits into his face and eyes and began rigorously rubbing it in.

He screamed violently in pain, grabbing at his eyes, tossing and turning until he fell onto his back, writhing and squirming.

She twisted around and was met with the tips of metal blades from Mister Mouthbleed and a few of his friends. Not wanting to cause much more of an incident, Kandy raised her arms. The bartender yelled at them and they slowly put away their weapons. She figured they knew better, they sheathed their daggers and went to the aid of their apparently couragous friend.

Swishing blood in her mouth, she sat back down in her place. The wooden stool felt nice, and she brushed away from of the broken glass from the counter and signaled for another glass. She began to pick out tiny shards from her palm and fingers while idly waiting for her beer.