Notes: Despite the fact it's Dark Souls and not Bloodborne, I imagine Chris in the Faraam armor set from DS2/3 and Jill with something similar to Lady Maria's outfit, mingled with a traditional FF Red Mage (albeit in navy).
He wakes in the dim light of an oil lamp, elongated shadow draping the stone wall ahead of him. The movements become less faint as his vision adjusts and he can make out the nuances. Chris can't be subtle while shaking the aches off, taking some comfort in the stained blankets beneath him; though covered in blood, not slick or wet. His armor removed and his is body wrapped in bandages. His side stings and he recalls his last fight - the one he'd accepted may very well be his final one. An ornate coat against him, upside down so the tail of it meets his neck. Wider, slimming as it falls over his knees; the fabric is soft and warm, lined thinly with what feels like fur against his arms. He can't help but run his fingers against it, allowing himself to take some shallow comfort in it.
The shadow stretches as he turns and tries to get a better look at the woman who saved him earlier. Hat still tilted to obscure her features, he can make out dark hair braided thickly, hung over her shoulder. She's removing gore from her weapon, sitting on a barrel that seems less comfortable than the floor might be. She lifts her head but makes no motion to stand, seemingly more engrossed in finishing off the task at hand.
"You needn't worry." Softer than he expected. For some reason he'd imagined gravel; less empathy in it.
"Are we safe?" Incredulous, almost a laugh. This seemed to be some sort of warehouse. Small enough, not like the large ones that made cutting through the streets that much more quick though they were infested with the diseased. The houses were all sealed or torn apart it. It was like he was haunting an empty town, the occupancy now two. Chris can't say he had foreseen this. "The incense only works for so long."
It felt like it was a marker for tragedy. It wouldn't last the night and any he'd spoken to that held stock in it seemed to disappear in the blink of an eye. It was as if the beasts stalked and waited for the last mote of it to be snuffed out.
She sets aside the darkened cloth and her weapon, perhaps her way of leveling the playing field between the two of them in the moment. There's no guarantee of honesty now, anyone may have ulterior motives even if they themselves are not aware of them yet. She lifts her hand, knuckles brushing the brim of her hat to tilt it upward. In doing so, her features can be made out. About his age, he supposes.
"Everywhere else is compromised. I do not think we will be safe here for long, so you best use this time to gather your strength." She is cautious in how she moves. Crossing the distance it becomes more obvious that she is injured herself, not just taking her time for his benefit. A slight limp is only made obvious by the tear in her pant leg, swerving just above her knee nearly to her hip. The lower, the deeper. It must have been aiming to make her completely immobile, tear through the muscle and destroy the knee so she'd collapse. It appears to be healing nicely, so she must have supplies on hand. "If you and I intend to survive this night, we must work together."
Pain flashes through clenched teeth as she crouches and places all the weight on the opposite leg, knee to the soft soil beneath them. She braces with a single hand, the other peeling away the coat atop him before she inspects his wounds with further unexpected delicacy.
"Not sure if I would be of much help. You saved me, after all." It isn't that he feels he can't trust her, only that all he has seen so far has left him uncertain of what may come. Though they had been close friends, the idea of what happened to Forest happening to someone else was more than just horrific. That fight had nearly taken his life, if not for her intervening. "What if there are no others left?"
She's putting pressure on the wound, applying medicine and redressing it when she pauses to catch his eyes. Briefly, she lifts a hand and presses it to his bicep. Reassuring as well as she can, Chris supposes. There's not really anything that can be done.
"Then we choose to give in or we carry on. I have fought too long alone to fall. Though it is a terrible thing, there must be somewhere that lies untouched by this madness."
He starts to laugh, but it comes out a cough. Maybe he could give in, but it would make all that he had sacrificed for naught. It's strangely easy to nudge his arm into her palm and appreciate whatever comfort she offers him, though. Her face twists briefly into something he might consider describing as upset or hurt; it seems that she needed something like this as much as he did, perhaps more.
"Then we shall leave the city when we are able. I would rather go down fighting, as well." He tries to smile but it comes off lopsided and awkward. Chris shifts some, both to get a better look at her and feel like they are on a more even field. Though she had aided him, it is still difficult to place trust in anyone now. Even if not a beast, survival can do terrible things to a person. "I appreciate your help. I'm sorry that you needed to intervene in my stead. It... was more difficult than I had anticipated to see a beast as just that and not what it had once been."
He also had not anticipated its strength. Perhaps even without being distracted by his former friend, he would have fell. It could be that it was only the caution he erred on the side of that had spared him long enough for her to show.
"My name is Jill." There's less somberness when she speaks her name, a sweet turn to her voice that he finds pleasant. Something nice to hold onto. "I knew the man he was well. We were to rendezvous with, presumably, you, then carry on. It seems the two of you met up prior, however..."
It comes as a surprise to him. Forest had mentioned possibly meeting up with other hunters, but he hadn't known there had been any specifics to that plan. They had goals to meet, but each had presented a challenge. There was nowhere to wait for long that would remain safe and they had found themselves sidetracked and needing to take a detour on several occasions. On one hand, it seems too coincidental, but on the other so few seemed to remain even upon arrival let alone as time passed that the fact one of them happened to be an ally seemed just as likely. The fact remains, however, that he wants to be comforted by this and have this connection. So he lets it slip in.
"Chris." He swallows thickly, uncertain what to expect now that he is met with this knowledge. Any introduction pleasantries will have to wait for now with how hard it is to cut past the morose situation that's at hand, especially with a mutual friend between them. "I am sorry. I... I was unaware."
"Strange," she starts with a quiet hum, "He told me of you and suggested that you and I would 'get along splendidly,' as he put it. I knew him well enough to say I did, I suppose. Battle was the limitation of our relationship for the most part. Knowing the kind of man that forest was, I can understand why you may think it extended to a more... intimate nature."
It's somewhat uncomfortable to an extent that he can't help a heat creeping to his face when she manages to gauge what he had thought was between them, but also reassuring that she is able to confirm his name and the kind of person he was. He'd been a consummate lady's man, so it was hard to imagine him having a platonic relationship even with a woman who was a hunter. Still, it puts him more at ease.
"My apologies. Regardless, I am glad that you found us. I wouldn't be here now if you had not intervened." He flinches against her, as she finishes. It's sharp, but not unbearable. The sort of deep ache that comes with the healing process. He manages a laugh this time, to which she offers a slight, sincere smile in exchange. Something about her right now emboldens him where normally he might not pry. "And what of you? Are you well?"
"Think nothing of it. If we had met earlier, we may have both been caught off guard. We are both fortunate." Jill's brows knit, her eyes widening minutely for a passing moment as she settles beside him with a throaty grunt. Her leg moves sharp, almost jagged in small increments. "I just need time. I can make due, the wound is not so deep that I need to stitch the skin together."
He's certain that they won't manage to heal fully before they need to take off. It's better to leave preemptively rather than wait until they need to fight their way out. If they are careful, they may be able to avoid fighting entirely... which is wishful thinking, maybe, but she seems plenty alert. With any luck they'll both make it through the night.
Despite his current safety, he cannot help but think of all he had heard and seen in Old Yharnam. Though survival will take precedence above all else, killing may become a necessity because of it. This night was already impossibly long, so what will happen if it ends? Or, what if it does not this time? It feels as if it has stretched for weeks now. The distance he and Forest had traveled only reinforces that notion, and worries now lurk in the corner of every possibility. Even if they were to find somewhere untainted, what life would they lead? Would he and Jill part ways and age in solitude? Or would they stay together out of necessity? There are too many questions, too many variables, and too little time for them.
Chris doesn't find her difficult to like thus far, but befriending someone for the sole sake of not being alone is something he's managed to avoid for so long while wandering. On the other hand, she seems to have no plans other than to live and find safety. To think so far ahead when they may not even make it out of the city seems foolish.
Jill interrupts these thoughts to counter them with her own.
"I don't know what to expect, but I know it is best not to think too heavily on it. The alternative is death or worse. I... will not force your hand to trail mine, so if you choose to stay or find your own way, I will not protest. I merely think that our chances of survival are greater together." She settles in, laying beside him. Turning away from him, Jill pulls her legs slightly toward her chest. "I' have had time to process these thoughts while you were not awake."
It occurs to him that Jill's not so much reading him or making assumptions as replying to her own concerns now. It makes sense that they would have similar worries plaguing them; they were both hunters and the sense of foreboding was palpable in a way Chris had never experienced. Of course she had felt it, too.
"It is easier in battle to think only of the moment that you are in. It was easier when I only thought of fighting and victory, not beyond it. More and more... it is difficult to think of an end to it." He can tell the city is without salvation. He can smell the smoke spreading, even without the sound of a beast nearby. If not the creatures, then the abandonment will destroy it. This is no place for him or her, Chris can safely say that. "We can figure it out along the way."
Trust is something he has difficulty placing in others, but he can feel the knives still on him and his weapon is within distance to reach where hers is not. If that isn't trust, he's not really sure what is. He shifts closer to her, giving the coat a sharp tug before draping it lengthwise over the both of them.
Jill doesn't respond, but he's certain she's still awake when she rolls her shoulder back into him then slowly reaches for his hand.
