This feeling is quite wondrous, like being submerged in icy seawater, every inch of muscle in the body relaxing under the buoyancy, strands of coldness wandering across the body, soothing the weary spirit.
This is an environment suitable for sleeping in late, even Bologue is somewhat indulged in this rare tranquility, letting his body drift along.
In this void world, Bologue tightly shuts his eyes, swaying back and forth between massive rubble and dust, like a lost wanderer.
A layer of frost hangs upon his body, as if he had been dead for many years.
Upon contact with roaming boulders, Bologue is gently bumped aside, his figure slowly shifting among the rubble. After unknown lengths of time, his body is seized by the gray-white earth, gravity weighs upon him, dragging him from the deep void toward the ground.
