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Description
     There was a wind once, sighing over a scorched brown void, sweeping dust into short-lived dervishes as it continued its trek across lifeless ground through cloudless blue skies. Nothing lived there, and nothing moved there, but the dust carried by the wind.

     The wind carried on its way, coming across the ruins of a city, the wasteland giving way to cracked concrete and blacktop. And it was there that the wind found two living things, travelers, like itself. It swirled, playing with them. Roy hid his clothing, well-worn, under a tattered scrap of canvas. His skin was weathered and tanned, leather worn by wind and sun, his hair short and brown.

     Luna's hair was long and pale, and the wind enjoyed casting it about. She dressed light, her clothes as worn as Roy's, but her skin was fair, as though the sun did not, could not touch her.

     They spoke, but the wind passed on, no longer content to stay. It blew through empty buildings, the bones of a skeleton city. It touched on green life, and was overjoyed. But it whimpered as it cut itself on black flowers, and fled from the leaves and vines that moved against it, whispering of unnatural things.

     Luna sighed happily. "It's beautiful."

     "Luna…" Roy said as he stared at her back.

     "Yeah?" The girl turned her head back, pulling back stray hair behind her ear as she looked at her companion with violet eyes. He looked at her for a moment before shaking his head with a hopeless grin.

     "…You're really weird, you know that?"

     She turned back to the city in front of her, throwing her arms wide as though to embrace the corpses of the skyscrapers. "But look at it! Look at how big it is. Can you imagine, when people lived here? It must have been incredible, a wonder. And yet now, it's so quite. It's so still."

     "I'm never going to understand your thing for ruined buildings."

     "It's not about ruined buildings! It's, it's…history. Here, it feels like…time could stand still."

     In the face of her serious expression, Roy could only shrug and grin. "Anyway, whatever it feels like, time won't stop for us. Let's look around, see if we can find someplace to stay and see if we can find some supplies." He removed his too-light backpack and shook it.

     "Alright then. What are we waiting for? Let's go exploring!" Luna called, already beginning to march down the broken road, leaving Roy to catch up.

     "Hey! Don't run off on your own! Be careful you—"

     "Wow!"

     Roy turned a corner in pursuit of Luna's voice, and found the object of her amazement.

     A statue of a woman stood on the side of the road, resting in the shadow of a building, made of a single, uniform gray stone. Her hands rested against each other above her head, her arms only slightly bent. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, muscles straining as she exerted herself to some unknown purpose. She was completely unclothed, which allowed Roy the opportunity to note the anatomical correctness of it. Blinking, Roy focused his eyes and noticed small vines, almost a perfect match for the stone, with small, pointed leaves, wrapped all around the statue. Budding from the stony vines were black roses, thin and fine, shining like obsidian in the sun. If it weren't for them, you wouldn't have even noticed the vines. The effect was breathtaking, a masterwork. He threw his gaze down the street, and marveled at the sight of more statues, littering the street, all in some struggle—

     "Ah!" Luna cried out, and Roy jumped, quickly turning to see her sucking her finger.

     "Those flowers are sharp. I cut myself." She grinned sheepishly as she pulled her finger out of her mouth, and Roy was ready to start on her, when he his heart sank as revelation dawned on him.

     "Luna…your finger…"

     The cut had turned gray. Stone gray. And it was spreading, slowly but surely, towards her hand.
Roy broke into a sweat as the sound of rustling leaves filled the air. He caught motion in the corner of his eye and spun around toward the closest building, only to find a host of thick, green vines writhing out of the vacant gaps that were once windows towards them.