she opens her eyes.
the light as it bounces off of rods and cones, reflecting into her consciousness, tells her she is awake. her body is slow to react.
she stretches limbs that have not been used in the time since she faded into sleep many months ago. her mind is little more than haze and breath as biology tells her to keep going.
she is aware of very little beyond her own awake-ness. she is aware of very little beyond the cramping in her limbs, and an infernal need to start - to begin. this need, this pull, this call to arms, beckons her toward a flurry of action and consumes her.
she must begin. she must commence.
for now though, she simply opens her eyes - bestirred from her winter spent dreaming.
in all of her finite lacklustre earthy biology, she cannot know what is to come, only that it is coming and she must begin.
. . .she must get to work.
