A Shift in the Weave (new character)

Everything began with a quiet rustle. I felt a gentle tension travel down my frame, and one of my arms lifted just an inch off the ground. When the tip dipped down and scraped against the woven fabric beneath me, a faint scratch echoed softly. The surface was made of countless crisscrossed threads, bumpy and firm. I pressed against the weave, testing the friction that held me steady. I was no longer just an assembly lying still—I could move, feel, and make contact with the world right under me.