Gravity was an interesting phenomenon. Quaranis could see possibilities in it, depending on exactly how it worked. Were there natural elevations? Something to do with the air? She would have to experiment. Maybe if she incorporated the air into her lava it could fly properly.
Her idle musings as her body re-knit itself were interrupted by a familiar sensation. One she had not felt since awakening in this broken world.
Prime flowing freely.
There was Prime in this world.
She flung her half-healed form through the newly-widened arteries of the archipelago, and into the still-expanding network deep within the world. Pushing faster, faster, desperation surging through the capillaries...
It is here!
She started to rise, then remembered. Gravity would cast her down, just as it had before. But perhaps, if she changed the balance of her lava, a little more of earthen solidity, a little less liquid flowing...
A new form rose, half-molten magma taking awkward shape. A head, to hold the eyes. Arms, to reach and grasp. A trunk to pull more and more of her self up, and out...
Deep within a great gaping hole lay Prime! It had a strange shape in this world, but what of it? It could be all. If it chose to look like the void, studded with stars in grand patterns, then so be it.
She reached...But could not grasp.
No, no, no no no no nononononononono...
This...Body she had built was constraining her. Her essence was spread across too much of the world, she could not gather enough of it to meld with the Prime!
So near the eternal Prime, and yet unable, incapable of reaching it.
Black obsidian tears streamed from her woe, and her sorrow caused the very air to blacken and rise from her in grief.