[There's a slim little weasel shark, maybe two feet long, swimming tentatively closer, taking a wide arc around Zane, drawn to Anya by the taste of carrion on the water. She waits.]

I've said for a while that what matters is how you use the tools you have. Powers can be very - convenient.

[It's a word other than useful, at least, though it is exactly what she means.]

These particular tools are poorly suited to anything I'm trying to accomplish now, except for...practice and play and testing myself. And that makes it easier, I guess, not to get torn up by jealousy, and self-loathing over the hypocrisy of being jealous, and the whole existential mess on top of that.

Right now it just feels like extra things I can do, in exchange for feeling like a puppeteer's hand with a very ill-fitting glove inside my own body.

[This is not a bitter complaint. It's just part of the zombie experience. A lower price than she expected, honestly.]