I can send objects flying, but I cannot attach myself to them. People use me to fight battles.

Broken pieces that can't be mended, remnants of a libation upended. Smoothed by salt and sea and time, worthless gemstones in their prime.

I replicate a natural form, of that which brews inside a storm. Fill me on-site, hold me just right, and we will sustain life tonight. There's no need to undress, or make a mess...we're doing it all in plain sight!

I'm a constellation glittering over the birds who dance, you'd do the same to your neck to catch a glance. With a camera, I make films complete. A couple centuries ago, I held kettles to heat. In some forms, I have an arm yet am fully machine.

Throw a stone in the lake, and I will follow through. I am also something some boats do. Each kitchen has me, some even have two. Some bedrooms have me, and some garages too.