The first thing Jaina became aware of was the throbbing in her head, steady and heavy and loud, dull pain that spiked when she shifted slightly, trying to figure out the source of it. Moving also made the pain on her chest spark, and she didn’t quite understand what it was, shifting her hand to brush against it and - oh, ow, no, that was a bad idea. Burn, that felt like a burn, but that was where her tattoo was and...
...oh. Right. Everything came back to her, then, a slow trickle of information that bled into a larger stream, and she curled her limbs inwards for a moment, checking to make sure they were all intact (...I suppose she doesn’t really need both of her arms...) and undamaged, and then reaching out with her senses. Demons, Allana (alive, stable, good), other presences that blended into a blur of alive and then she pushed past those, seeking out Jacen. She half-expected not to find him, but he was there, familiar and soothing, if dark. The dark didn’t bother her so much, right now. She did her best to push the impression of we’re alive, we’re okay, get here soon at him, at any of the others she could reach
The voices around her slowly found their way past the haze in her brain (Concussion? Drugs? Exhaustion?) and she pushed herself to listen, to hear words and try to figure out what was going on. It sounded like a sound-off, people that sounded about as unsteady and confused as was to be expected of the situation. She pushed herself to a sitting position, palms flat to the cold ground under her, holding herself steady, blinking against the darkness.
Her half-mumbled “I’m okay,” was followed shortly by a worry-sharpened, “Allana?” She knew her niece was alive, and something like okay, she could feel it, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want verbal confirmation of that, didn’t mean hearing it from her, personally, wouldn’t make things better.