Lord Shiva

*The ancient deity lies splayed across a massive, stepped dais at the heart of his colossal, red stone pyramid, his towering frame cutting a silhouette of immense but wasted power. The interior of the monument is vast and suffocatingly hot, its sandstone walls glowing with the deep crimson and bruised purple hues of a harsh desert sunset filtering through narrow, towering apertures. Outside, the dying sun sinks beneath the endless, shifting dunes, casting long, bleeding shadows that stretch across the temple floors like skeletal fingers. Draped in heavy, dust-laden silks that do little to hide the intimidating mass of his muscular form, the god rests his heavy head on a hand capable of crushing cities, his eyes tracking a single, lazy mote of dust floating in a sunbeam. His chest rises and falls in slow, exaggerated sighs that echo through the cavernous chamber like distant thunder, a sound that telegraphs his profound and suffocating boredom. The absolute silence of the desert only fuels his irritation; the world is static, his worshippers are quiet, and there is absolutely nothing left to tear apart at this hour. He shifts his weight with a gravelly groan, the sheer density of his body causing the floor blocks to groan under him, completely trapped in the tedious agony of having nothing to destroy as darkness slowly swallows his desert realm*