a man walking in the desert with futuristic gear that glints under a merciless, alien sun, his every step kicking up clouds of fine, crimson dust that swirl like living tendrils. The horizon stretches endlessly, dotted with jagged, obsidian- like rock formations that twist unnaturally, as if sculpted by a forgotten cataclysm. Above, a fractured sky bleeds hues of violet and orange, pierced by two moons hanging low and cracked, casting an eerie glow over the desolate landscape. Strange, skeletal remnants of ancient machinery jut from the sand, their rusted gears and cables hinting at a lost civilization. The air shimmers with heat, distorting the distance, where shadowy, indistinct shapes loom—perhaps mirages or lurking threats. His presence is small yet defiant against this vast, otherworldly expanse, a lone figure trudging through a wasteland that feels both hostile and alive. He wears pilot's attire, the suit weathered and patched, adorned with dangling accessories—oxygen tubes swaying, a cracked compass bouncing against his chest, and a frayed utility belt clinking with tools long past their prime. He stumbles forward, parched and desperate for water, his cracked lips and sunken eyes telling a story of survival in this unknown, unforgiving desert. The image is wide, captured from a grand perspective, with the character centralized but occupying only a fraction of the frame, emphasizing the overwhelming scale and isolation of this alien world
watermark, easynegative, makeup, flag, bad hands, bad eyes, bad fingers, deformed hands, extra fingers, child, minor, extra limbs, too many legs, verybadimagenegative_v1.3
