Damn it when Medusa's graze purges a man's soul out of his mortal form. It renders the victim completely powerless, or simply put, devoid of life. As tantalizing the latter seems to be, those turned to stone are usually drowned in some sea of reality and then torn asunder by truth.
That truth though is highly debatable because all truths are subjective - subjective in a sense that there has to be one perpendicularity among all parallelisms that would make the slightest of differences between perspectives. And when one perspective strays into the dark wood of error, as Dante puts it, he should be assailed by his own beasts. He should then expect his Virgil to come up anytime soon and save his ass. If Virgil doesn't show up, the man of a victim needs some alcohol. Credits to Medusa for doing a good job.
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