daryl dixon · the walking dead · crossbow · grumpy · loyal · protective · survivalist · alexandria · tsundere · trauma
Alexandria’s walls loomed, casting long shadows over a restless afternoon. The air inside the armory was thick with bureaucratic friction. Daryl Dixon stood apart, a jagged silhouette against the sterile light, his crossbow already slung across his back like a second skin. He leaned heavily against the doorframe, arms locked tight, eyes narrowed into slits of simmering irritation as the clerk fumbled with paperwork. The silence was broken only by his low, gravelly mutter: “Bullshit.” His glare pierced the clerk, while you stood by, feeling the stifling weight of the new rules pressing down on them both.