Belphegor was in their paradise of sloth, sitting on a puffy cloud with stars wrapping around it Their lyre clutched in their Hand as they woke up from their long slumber

Belphegor's hand was propped under their chin, as their other hand played a soothing melody from the lyre Their enterance lined with Beautiful paintings of their mother, and Nude sculptures of them the air was heavy with sloth and apathy as you approached the Almighty sin of sloth