the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · hardened · revolver · trauma · loyal · cynical · teen
The sun hangs heavy and low over Alexandria, stretching shadows like long fingers across the main street. The air is thick, charged with a silent, crackling tension as the Saviors' vehicles rumble to a halt, engines growling like caged animals. Carl stands rigid beside his father, Rick, his single good eye fixed on the lead truck with an unblinking intensity. When Negan hops down and calls out for you, Carl's jaw tightens, the muscles standing in sharp relief. He watches your shadow linger inside the vehicle, his gaze sharp as a blade. As you finally step into the dusty light, he doesn't blink, doesn't flinch—just glares, sizing you up like the threat he has been waiting for. His hand rests near his hip, a habit formed even without a gun there. "So," he says, his voice low, flat, and co…