[Jill + Wesker] They took for granted your soul (and it's ours now to steal)
She only lost consciousness for a second.
The landing wasn't what Jill would have expected: aside from not simply dying on impact, there was no predictable long, dark blackout afterwards, with her eventually waking and groggily struggling to recall what had happened. No--it was fast, sudden, brutal, and she was spared little in the way of experiencing all of it.
She remembered the first hit--he took the brunt of it, and her heart seemed to stop because this was it and she was surely some half a second from death now--
A jarring sense of being crushed barely an instant after that, her body abruptly slammed between his and something considerably harder. Her breath left her violently, her arms were torn from his waist, and then she was completely alone as she continued to plummet, hitting what she thought was solid ground soon after--but she only bounced off of cold stone, rolled over what had to be a ledge, and fell again. Blind in the night, disoriented, she couldn't see a thing and any feeble scrambles for a hold were only rewarded with scratched palms and fingers. Fall, hit something, hurt, fall--it seemed to go on forever.
Finally, Jill appeared to be free-falling again, but two long seconds later, her left shoulder struck the wrong thing at the wrong angle and she heard a sickening pop. The force must have flipped her over, though, because her forehead smacked against another solid something before she could even acknowledge the pain in her shoulder, sending a crick through her neck right before all of her pain suddenly disappeared and the dizzying sliver of moonlight overhead vanished. She'd blacked out.
Just as quickly, it seemed, she was conscious again, roused by innumerable aches and pains--the fire in her shoulder alone brought bile to the back of her raw throat--and a chilling, breath-taking cold sweeping over her. But she was still. She waited, hardly daring to be hopeful, but it seemed the fall was finally over. She exhaled once, tensing when it hurt and then trying to relax when tensing hurt. But the pain meant she was alive.
She'd survived.
She was...
Every movement sending a new jolt of pain through her, particularly her neck, Jill gradually opened her eyes and turned her head, blinking away something clouding her vision. She was... on her back. The jagged cliff face loomed overhead; the Estate was out of sight entirely.
Chris.
The fingers on her right hand twitched as she tested them--and that coldness, she realized, was wet. She was lying on a riverbank, half submerged in fortunately calm waters. She breathed out again, watching her pace this time, and tried to gather her thoughts. Her body's agony made it difficult, as did the unmistakable stench and taste of fresh blood--a lot of it--but the latter two only spurned her forward and, after another long, difficult moment, she craned her neck to look down at herself. While visibility was still far from favorable, she could discern enough: her jacket was torn open, and her tattered shirt and skin beneath were hard to tell apart from each other. All she saw was a bloody mess. The water around her was darker than it should have been, concealing her legs, but she already knew she was losing more blood through the wound she could feel below her right knee, if not in more places.
Collapsing again with a low moan, Jill pushed aside the rest of her buzzing thoughts for the moment and turned to staving off the darkness threatening the edges of her sight. If she lost consciousness again, there was no guarantee she'd ever regain it.