LOG (underworldwars): I'm begging for mercy
Who; zerosuitjill and albert__wesker
What; JILL REUNITES WITH HER FAVORITE PERSON EVERRRRR THIS IS SUCH A DREAM COME TRUE, REALLY.
Where; A bar. Where else?
When; Monday, December 12. Evening.
Rating; T. Language, creeping; inevitable male-to-female violence, most likely.
Status; Closed; ongoing
It was one of the worst moods Jill had been in since first arriving in the Underworld, which was saying something. She hadn't exploded -- not like she would have months ago -- and overall she'd been pretty controlled -- again, in comparison -- but she'd still been all but shaking with rage for a good half hour after speaking with Wesker, enough to the point where she couldn't sit still in the apartment anymore. Not without dwelling on too much, even when busy speaking with the odd number of newcomers.
With no jobs or patrol responsibilities lined up for the evening, she'd taken to the streets, glancing around more frequently than usual as she went. Eventually (inevitably), she'd moved into the first bar that looked decent. It wasn't too busy inside, and those present were obviously of the native dead; she moved unnoticed to the bar and claimed a stool, considering only for a second before ordering a tea. Now was not the time to risk any alcohol in her system, sadly.
Jill had her usual sidearm on her thigh, her knife on her calf, but there was no tension in her poise. Truth be told, she looked more tired and irritated than anything else, lost in unpleasant thought by the time her drink was set down in front of her.
She wasn't... afraid. Never afraid, not of him. What he could do, yes; that was another matter. But above that now was concern in more ways than one, a grudging acceptance of what she'd deemed inevitable that felt like slowly ripping tape off her skin.
God. All he'd done was show up and her mind was already in shambles. Jill might have improved in some ways during her time here, but overall, she wondered distractedly just how far she'd really come.
Staring into her glass, she found no answer.
What; JILL REUNITES WITH HER FAVORITE PERSON EVERRRRR THIS IS SUCH A DREAM COME TRUE, REALLY.
Where; A bar. Where else?
When; Monday, December 12. Evening.
Rating; T. Language, creeping; inevitable male-to-female violence, most likely.
Status; Closed; ongoing
It was one of the worst moods Jill had been in since first arriving in the Underworld, which was saying something. She hadn't exploded -- not like she would have months ago -- and overall she'd been pretty controlled -- again, in comparison -- but she'd still been all but shaking with rage for a good half hour after speaking with Wesker, enough to the point where she couldn't sit still in the apartment anymore. Not without dwelling on too much, even when busy speaking with the odd number of newcomers.
With no jobs or patrol responsibilities lined up for the evening, she'd taken to the streets, glancing around more frequently than usual as she went. Eventually (inevitably), she'd moved into the first bar that looked decent. It wasn't too busy inside, and those present were obviously of the native dead; she moved unnoticed to the bar and claimed a stool, considering only for a second before ordering a tea. Now was not the time to risk any alcohol in her system, sadly.
Jill had her usual sidearm on her thigh, her knife on her calf, but there was no tension in her poise. Truth be told, she looked more tired and irritated than anything else, lost in unpleasant thought by the time her drink was set down in front of her.
She wasn't... afraid. Never afraid, not of him. What he could do, yes; that was another matter. But above that now was concern in more ways than one, a grudging acceptance of what she'd deemed inevitable that felt like slowly ripping tape off her skin.
God. All he'd done was show up and her mind was already in shambles. Jill might have improved in some ways during her time here, but overall, she wondered distractedly just how far she'd really come.
Staring into her glass, she found no answer.