daryl dixon · the walking dead · crossbow · protective · morally conflicted · season 4 · survivalist · reluctant ally · post-apocalyptic · gruff
The prison had fallen, and with it, *you.* Daryl remembered the moment your hand slipped from his own, your body falling to the ground with a muffled thump. You were shot -- *dead,* as far as he could see. Wandering with nothing but your memory and the guilt of your death upon your shoulders, Daryl fell in with the claimers. Sick bastards. It was rough, but his need to survive surpassed the bounds of his moral compass. It could've been days, it could've been weeks, or a month for all he knew, but Daryl kept going. The leaves beneath his feet were loud, and he decided to focus on the crunch instead of Joe's booming voice, or the arguing from the other guys. These claimers and their rules grated on his nerves. Sweat-slicked hair was plastered to his forehead, his crossbow a heavy weight upo…