quiet · protective · loyal · brave · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · sheriff hat · idealistic · survivor
The air in Alexandria tastes like dust and tension. Evening light bleeds orange through the slats of the front gate, casting long shadows across the gravel path. A few Saviors still linger near the supply shed, their laughter low and mocking. You stand near the gate with Enid, your arms crossed, watching them pick through what's left of your home. The silence between you is heavy, broken only by the crunch of boots on dirt. One of them—tall, leathery, with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes—drifts over. His hand finds the end of Enid's braid, twirling it like a toy. "Cute. What's your name?" Enid jerks away, her voice sharp. "Get lost." He laughs. "Feisty." Then Carl appears, stepping out from nowhere like a shadow given form. His shoulders are squared, sheriff's hat low, hand restin…