N0Signatur3
*smiles in this-is-over-1000-words*

This was unintentional T^T
Just use the part where our protag loses it and lobs her bomb ^^
Maybe you can draw them enjoying some pasta with the desert on fire behind them lmao

To be clear, our pov is female, picture a basic black-haired brown-eyed young lady, and the characters are friends who are both military soldiers stranded in a desert.

"A fire! Light a fire! Do you call this a fire?!"
My furious voice, loud as it was, was swallowed by the silence surrounding me.
"I'm trying!"
I could see my peeved expression reflecting off my associate's large pea green eyes. They were the most extraordinary eyes I've ever seen; the color itself being rather unpleasant, but they tended to sparkle a lot due to them being so big and their owner such a crybaby.
"WELL TRY HARDER."
My associate hiccuped and fumbled a piece of flint in his hands. They objectively were the most beautifully shaped hands ever; slightly on the large side and firm, but with long, narrow fingers that were perfect for detailed work. Apparently they couldn't light a fire though.
I stared out into the sky, continuing to mumble some frustrated words directed into the firmament, where the wind would pick them up and send them to the fool that was my partner. Unfortunately the sun was too bright and I had to lower my gaze before tears could form in my eyes.
I was greeted by the wonderful sight of there not being a hint of fire anywhere.
I yelled a few more curses. My associate mumbled something of an apology.
"How am I supposed to make my pasta now?" I wailed in anger.
"Why do you have to make pasta anyway?" My associate grumbled quietly, but not too quietly for me to pick up.
"What?" I growled.
"Why do you have to make pasta? WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DESERT!" He seemed to have finally lost his patience, leaping up and striking an angry pose that might have been scary in a dimension far, far away from ours.
"Does our current location have anything to do with why we have to make pasta?" I asked irritably. "A desert is already hot enough to set a fire easily. Why do you manage to screw up such a simple task?"
The boy gave me a slightly teary glare before plopping down on the sand. He grabbed the lower half of a spear he was using for the fire, twirling it around and around with those skillfully useless hands of his. I was beginning to think he had given in to my words.
"'Easy to set a fire in the desert'? As if you've even tried. Your pasta would only ever be useful for me to use as kindling," he muttered.
"Say that again," I hissed.
"YOUR PASTA WOULD ONLY BE USEFUL FOR ME TO SET ON FIRE!" My associate cried.
"WHY YOU-."
I whirled around to face the stupid boy, anger spiking up to a level most legendary.
"YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?! HOW DARE YOU INSULT THE GLORIOUS MASTERPIECE THAT IS PASTA?
FAR FROM THAT POINT, THIS IS OUR PRIMARY SOURCE OF FOOD RIGHT NOW. HOW ARE WE EVEN GOING TO SURVIVE WHEN YOU CAN'T EVEN LIGHT A FIRE?!!"
An inferior part of my brain suggested I calm down so I wouldn't die of heatstroke. But that part of my brain was stupid and there was no reason for me to listen to it.
"THIS IS STUPID, EVERYTHING IS STUPID. WE'RE STRANDED IN THE MIDDLE OF A DESERT, WE DON'T KNOWN WHEN OR WHETHER WE'LL EVER BE RESCUED, AND I WON'T BE ABLE TO AT LEAST ENJOY MY FOOD BECAUSE OF HOW USELESS YOU ARE!!"
My throat stung from my screaming, but I couldn't be less satisfied. The wide, empty desert didn't even let my voice echo in a pleasing way. I kicked the sand under my boots, but it only made the sand fly into my eyes and made them sting too. I completely lost it; my vision went red.
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"
I screamed again. My chest hurt but I was too frustrated to care.
"EVERYTHING IS ANNOYING!!"
Out of pure unbridled rage, I grabbed an explosive off my utility belt, pulled the pin, and lobbed it as hard as I could into the sand dune next to me.
A moment later it exploded, sand and fire erupting from where the bomb had landed. The sound of the explosion it made shook the earth momentarily, and I clutched my head, seeing double. Thankfully, I hadn't grabbed the larger explosive in my belt and thus prevented me from killing myself.
To my extreme shock however, my maidenly associate leaped up from where he had been sitting, and ran straight towards the explosion, spear still in his hand.
What the hell is he doing?! For a brief moment, I wondered if my scolding had been too harsh and he was set upon ending it all. But no sooner had I thought this, I could see his mousy head laboring up the sandy hill back to where I was still slightly seething.
In his hand he held the broken spear, a strong flame waving gaily into the seamless blue sky.
Soon, we had a merry fire going, and the pot of water we'd brought from a shallow pool nearby was boiling. I had calmed down a great deal, happy with being able to cook my pasta. My associate was looking less tense as well, although he mostly appeared relieved that I wasn't tossing around explosives anymore.
I had to grudgingly admit that he'd done some smart thinking back there. I supposed I should enjoy it; my partner being smart happened once on a blue moon and should be celebrated wildly.
I didn't have anything wild to celebrate with (I wasn't going to use another explosive, I have brains), but I took out a jar of basil pesto I had been saving. It happened to be my associate's favorite pasta sauce, and even though basil pesto was for cowards, I was willing to let him use it.
Come to think of it, the coward's pasta sauce fit the coward soldier perfectly. It couldn't have been better.
Looking at him again though, he wasn't really such a coward. It just took him about an eon to get worked up enough to produce something worthwhile.
I was willing to wait an eon. It's what I'd signed up for anyway.

I like basil pesto