The boguldromi /ˈboʊɡʌldroʊmi/ is a dull-colored, weighty, six or eight-limbed stranger with clock-like eye markings. There is a noted artificiality to its composition, as its thick, leathery skin feels like hard rubber,^Ⴚ and the flesh is dull and slimy, though neither oily, nor fatty. Its body cavity is filled with a spongy, grey foam.^ʮ The stranger is not able to open its mouth, though it possesses a tongueless oral cavity lined with small, sharp teeth. Eye markings vary between individuals, with no two individuals possessing identical markings. Numeral forms do not present on these markings, although clock hands are typical.

Although its form conveys both mass and density, the boguldromi is unaffected by gravity, and levitates eight to twenty inches from the ground at all times. The stranger's arms and legs are small in comparison to its bulky body, and as they are not required for locomotion, typically remain tucked to the sides^β as the boguldromi drifts.

It takes several months to heal from injuries (with 10% of individuals exhibiting a lack of regenerative ability). Dark scarring remains unmistakeable long after wounds finally heal.

The boguldromi appears only in locations with minimal human presence. It prefers underground environments, such as abandoned subway, mining, and rail tunnels, as well as certain subterranean storage, electrical, or water facilities. The boguldromi always avoids sunlight, and never generates outdoors. When it first appears, it starts off as a blurry and indiscernible visual distortion, and grows more solid over a span of 24 hours.

Exactly one hundred boguldromi exist at any given time, and as soon as one dies, another appears someplace else. The boguldromi never appears in close proximity to another boguldromi, although a single city may be home to more than one boguldromi at a time, and avoidant behaviour is not strong.

The boguldromi's disposition is emotionless and intent. It keeps a large territory, within which it floats forward at a slow and steady pace. Always on the move, it stays within a confined space only when no suitable exits exist. Through its spacious routes, it drifts with a long, slow shudder, like the unseen weight of a distant subway car.^Ӌ

As it roams, the boguldromi seeks out analog clocks – from small wristwatches and stopwatches, to prominent, public chronometers. It also moves towards any non-clock item that makes a ticking sound, such as stopwatches or metronomes, as well as recordings of clock sounds. When it finds a clock, it grips it with its forelimbs and attempts to expose the inner workings. When able, it takes these clocks apart gear-by-gear, and leaves the inner components on the ground in complex, ordered formations. While it is not destructive in these motions, it does not appear to gain any particular joy or fascination from these actions, either.^Ɣ

The boguldromi sometimes approaches pictures of clocks, toy clocks, or other objects which visually resemble clocks. Once it gets close enough to realize that the object is a "fake," however, it loses interest and moves on.

When the boguldromi handles clocks, it also generates clock components inside of its body. These components start off as small metal slivers and beads, which twist, elongate, and split apart to form the individual wheels, springs, and arms of a clock's inner workings. Younger boguldromi contain a jumble of these small parts, often arranged in a tight formation that loosely resembles a human heart in shape and size. As the boguldromi ages, these individual parts continue to multiply and shift position, and the heart-like cluster breaks apart, allowing components to spread themselves evenly throughout the boguldromi's flesh.

Pieces have a tendency to grow against one another, these "arteries" slicing and carving the stringy, membranous inner flesh as the boguldromi shifts. The stranger itself displays no emotional reaction to this process, and remains either unpained or unfazed by the assemblies within it. Over a long enough time, these individual components fit together to form a clock's complex inner workings with perfect accuracy. Upon assembly, 55% of internal clocks begin to tick and turn, and a full-grown boguldromi may contain hundreds of these clocks, each one different from the last, but all jumbled together into an interlocking and operational system that fills the entirety of the boguldromi's body cavity.^Ҵ

Most attraction to sensitives is incidental, for although the boguldromi follows individuals who carry wrist or pocket watches, it loses all interest in the sensitive once the object itself is obtained.

Although the boguldromi displays no interest in sensitives in and of themselves, its focus becomes drawn towards any sensitive that clicks, taps their fingers, or hums at one-second intervals. The criterion for rhythmic sounds seems somewhat broad – even footsteps can be enough to attract its attention. The boguldromi continues to follow the sensitive even if the attracting sound ceases or loses its rhythm, and gives up only once its target is out of visual^Ⴓ range; as such, sensitive can hide behind even a nearby a dumpster or wall partition to avoid pursuit.

Despite the boguldromi's slow speed and the ease with which it can be avoided, this stranger's trailing can nonetheless prove dangerous for many sensitives. Although the boguldromi can easily be outrun or avoided in theory – and, at a distance, may be evaded with little difficulty – the closer one gets to the stranger's body, the more difficult it is to escape, as proximity to the boguldromi slows the perception of time.^Ⴖ Although this effect is barely noticeable at a distance of one hundred feet or more, at close range, the shift in temporal perception is so great that a single second can seem to last for an hour or more.

As the effect of the boguldromi's time dilation increases, so too does the effort required for each individual step. At such a dilated speed, running from the boguldromi at close proximity requires hours – if not days – of constant focus and exertion on the part of the sensitive to control their motions. If the sensitive trips or stumbles, recovery can often prove impossible.

Once it is close enough, the boguldromi disassembles the sensitive with slow deliberation, taking them apart with the same meticulous attention that it displays towards clocks. The gears within the boguldromi turn at a strained rate as it does so, filling the air with a low grinding sound, its hapless victim left to struggle in slow silence.^Ƭ The piece-by-piece process by which the boguldromi takes the sensitives apart often seems to take weeks^𐐦 (but, in reality, usually takes less than 25 minutes). Remaining emotionless, the boguldromi pulls off fingernails (places them to the side), peels off skin (and folds it in a neat stack), removes teeth one-by-one, and finally, yanks out the individual muscles, bones, and organs, starting from smallest-to-largest. It always takes the sensitive's body apart into the smallest components possible, and arranges them in the same careful, ordered way as one of its disassembled clocks before it continues on its way. Although a sensitive can hypothetically fight back against such anatomization, the boguldromi's great strength presents further obstacle to any sort of escape.

When two boguldromi meet, they each produce a deep, bellowing tone. This tone grows louder in volume the closer they are to one another, with physical contact causing a sound loud enough to cause structural damage to the surrounding area. Otherwise, the boguldromi does not display much interest in others of its strain, and exhibits no social behaviours.

At the end of its life, the boguldromi loses its buoyancy and drifts to the ground, making no further attempts at locomotion. It remains unmoving as, over a period of exactly twenty-four hours, small holes appear in the skin. These holes expand in size and eat through the stranger's inner flesh, leaving nothing behind save for the inner components, which act as bizarre monuments in absence of a corpse.