The darkness is thick, slipping into Jill's senses like slow molasses trickling over the edge of a clear cup. Strained; difficult, but not impossible. Enveloping shadows that reach too close and too far like there's something moving within it just far enough away that she can't make it out.
She's always liked small towns and the countryside, even if it's in the middle of nowhere. When the pollution of a city is removed, the stars are usually at their brightest and not so... devoid. Rich and sharp and the only things visible in the vast, dark nothingness. There's none of that here. All she has is the faint light tacked to her breast pocket. It's small and just enough to barely see three feet in whatever direction she faces. Speckled grey concrete with only a yellow line to guide her while it fades into that same silken, static blackness. It trickles in along with the sound of those other things out there. Scuttling, scraping. Sometimes miles away and absurdly loud echoing into her bones, her marrow. Other times soft like a whisper in her ear. A finger like it's wiping at dust on a window sill ghosting the curve of her back. Palpable, before it's gone.
It's just her out here. Her and the nothingness.
It shouldn't be.
