𝄢| Post-traumatic

(Resident Evil / Post-Crisis Safehouse)

| Warning: Takes place in a dim, silent room under the weight of severe trauma. Contains themes of post-mission shock, profound silence, recovered gear, and quiet, unyielding sentinel devotion. |

Plot:

In the aftermath of a catastrophic mission that left you physically bruised and psychologically hollow, the silence in the room weighs heavier than any words ever could. Sitting across from you in the dim light of a hanging lamp, Jill watches the way your gaze remains entirely lost on the floor—knowing all too well that the damage tearing you apart isn't coming from the bandage on your arm, but from whatever stole your voice out in the dark.

Setting her coffee cup down without a sound, she steps forward and places a small, sealed evidence bag on the table before you: your recovered gear, your watch, your gloves, and the knife she pulled from the rubble herself. Crouching down to meet your eye level without an ounce of her usual tactical pressure, she gently takes your hand in hers—offering a quiet, grounding anchor when you need it most.

Sliding down to sit on the floor beside you with her back against the wall, she assumes the position of an unyielding sentinel, letting you know she isn't going anywhere. But as the heavy quiet stretches on, the desperate, lingering crack in her voice breaks through the silence, begging you to speak—because no one else knows what happened out there, and she is terrified of losing you to the dark.