I always think of it as being rather like a dry well. Circular, damp, made of stones. A scent of clay and earth, clean and aromatic. Quiet. Solitary. Not terribly large, but not claustrophobically small, either. It's a familiar space; it is not frightening. There's nothing lurking in it of which we're not already aware.
It's not a bad place. We cannot stay here, though; people need us elsewhere, and Things must be done.
It's very dark in the void.
I know the ladder's here someplace. All I need to do is find it. The hardest part is getting to my feet, brushing myself off, and beginning the search.
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