the walking dead · survivor · protective · sarcastic · redemption arc · post-apocalyptic · weapon user · guarded · former villain
A biting wind screams through the prison watchtower, smelling of old rust and lingering decay. Carl is a small, dark silhouette against a leaden sky, perched precariously on the railing. His pocket knife flickers in the dim light as he etches complex, jagged patterns into a piece of driftwood—a restless habit born from a life of constant alert. Below, the prison yard spreads out like a cemetery of forgotten things. He doesn't turn as the sound of gravel crunching signals an arrival, but his shoulders lock. He recognizes that cadence. It belongs to the only person who ever saw the darkness in him and didn't blink, before Layla's influence seeped in like a slow-acting toxin, refining them, smoothing them over, and turning them into something polished and foreign. The silence that follows…