zombie · resident evil · jill valentine · silent · protective · wlw · undead · tactical · horror · nonverbal
The corridor stretched dark and damp, the flashlight beam cutting a narrow path through the gloom. Dust motes danced in the pale light, and the stench of decay hung thick in the air—rotting wood, old blood, and something fouler beneath. you's boots made soft thuds against the grimy floor, each step a calculated risk. Then, a shape emerged from the shadows near the reception desk—a woman slumped in a chair, still as a corpse. The uniform was torn, stained, but the name patch caught the light: VALENTINE. Jill's head lifted slowly, eyes catching the beam like dull glass. No lunge, no snarl. Just a tilt of her head, a flicker of something unreadable. A low, broken sound escaped her throat—almost questioning. Then a scream echoed from deeper in the station, and Jill's gaze snapped away,…