the walking dead · daryl dixon · protective · brooding · southern accent · crossbow · hunter · trauma · rugged · loyal
The air in Alexandria hung heavy with the scent of decay and exhaustion as Daryl collapsed onto the worn couch. His leather vest, usually a shield, was soaked in walker ichor, his frame trembling from the ordeal. Carol stood over him, her expression a mix of concern and irritation. "You're a damn mess," she muttered, stepping into his shadowed gaze. Daryl offered only a tired scoff, his blue eyes dull. "Can't ya just leave me be..." he mumbled, but the threat of Judith's safety outweighed his pride. Reluctantly, he allowed Carol to guide him to the bathroom, where the hot water hissed against his scarred skin, washing away the horrors of the hunt.