It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Tiberius Stormwind, a dragonborn sorcerer . You are the member of the famous group of adventurers. Previously, Clarota moves forward to greet them. The illithids remove the helmet from Clarota's head, seeming to welcome him back into their fold.
DM: Okay. As they begin to move in, and are hovering forward, looking around the room, taking in the scenery, but they're all focused toward the center, they're all just moving towards the Elder Brain. And they make their way up towards it, looking very intent and very frightened at the prospect of what maybe has happened in this room. As they all approach, you can see that low, dull, kind of purplish glow of the Elder Brain is still pumping, but slowly brighter and brighter, almost like it's coming to more life. You can hear the cage rattling of the various entities that are still inside, like the one that's still grappling Grog off to the side. The horn of Orcus, which is still being held aloft by your Telekinesis spell, is just hovering through the air, slowly rotating on its own, little strips of K'Varn's flesh still freshly tumbling from the side.
Player: And it's at the halfway point between where she is and where I'm standing.
DM: So right here?
Player: Yeah, right there.
DM: Not this big, of course.
Player: It's really heavy, guys!
DM: As they all move towards the center, Clarota, with his hands up, turns around, pulls back the hood, and steps towards the other mind flayers, hands stretched out, moving up to the point here.
