Amelioration
After seeing Histarte off, Eva restlessly paced around her chamber. She stumbled every third step, and her core was off-balance, so she struggled to keep herself from swaying, but she cared little for that.
It felt insulting to have so much power, and now, a body as well, yet only being able to help those she cares about in meager ways.
She was frustrated. But that feeling never gets one anywhere. No, what Eva needed now was determination.
She mentally braced herself and attempted running – obviously, attempted being the key word. She made two quick steps with her forelegs, then, two with hind legs, succesfully keeping herself from falling down.
But that is nowhere close to what running is. A small fragment of a brisk walk, at most.
So, she tried again. And again. Second time, swaying more, and introducing her face to the floor on the third.
Eva sighed angrily. Bodily pain, albeit dulled into almost-nonexsistence by the device, was the most aggresively unpleasant of the new sensations. She's had half the mind to set the rod to filter it away entirely.
...Maybe she should. At least for now.
{PAIN RECEPTORS: VERY LOW –> OFF}
With renewed (and now completely painless) resolve, Eva decided to try something else, as unceasing attempts at running were sure to sour her mood even further. So she approached the walls of a hallway just outside her chamber, and...
Gently, one foreleg grasped the steep surface. Its smooth ridges were a pleasant texture under her footclaws, but provided little traction. Which was... Not the best, for training purposes, but if she could scale a wall such as this, certainly any other obstacle would be no trouble.
So she placed the second foreleg. It felt odd, to have to shift her balance from the comfortable position Eva's almost gotten used to, but then, everything about this bady was odd, new and fascinating.
She set the third leg, and immediately counted a corner before again acquaitanting herself with the floor. It was really, really difficult to abstain from groaning.
But no matter. Eva might be a being half-divine, but she is anything but all-knowing. She will try and try for as long as it takes, for as long as she's waited, until it finally sticks.
She and wall, unfortunately, didn't. Not at the tenth attempt. Or the fourtieth.
In fact, Eva was almost about to think this shell didn't have climbing capabilities at all, if not for the fact that she managed it once with her right foreleg. So now, instead, she was shaking and seething as her divine pride has taken a nosedive into the depths of Abyss.
It was as if Eva was a child barely hatched, and not a being older than a few eras. Cogwork knew how to move with almost-perfect precision immediately after their making, so why can't...
Oh. Oh. She is a hatchling.
She remembered Twelfth Architect mentioning that the Citadel's constructs were always equipped with programming – something to impose their purpose and control behaviour. It... Of course, of course it would be responsible for their skills in movement as well as in directive.
This body was an avatar. There was no mind in it, no code to nudge her to certain actions. She will need to learn to use it from the very beginning – as bugs do.
Eva laughed at the realisation. Oh, how she longed to be a normal bug! And yet, when faced with their struggles, all she felt was anger. She really is a godling, isn't she? Expecting to always remain so far beyond their skills.
Well, time to learn some humility, then, is it not? It would do her good in the future.
She sat down, now calm and focused, and mulled her options over.
First was to try and try and try until something sticks – she to a wall, for example, or running to her mind.
Second was to get help. Hatchlings usually had someone to mentor them as they grew, so it obviously was an efficient strategy. Now, to find a tutor with similar abilities to Eva...
...
She laughed again, loud enough to startle a few animals in the nest's little grotto. Oh, the irony was delicious.
A minute later, Eva stifled her... unbecoming reaction and searched the outside of the Weavenest through her crest-sight.
Here it was. One of Yivel's Servitors, hanging just above the Weavegate. It was, in a way, a metaphor for the inventor's place in her life, now: always so close, yet just outside her reach.
{Cowardly}, Eva thinks. {Tragic}, she knows.
(@weaveryivel, would you mind coming over? I believe I may need your help.)