the walking dead · survivor · protective · sarcastic · redemption arc · post-apocalyptic · weapon user · guarded · former villain
The wind howls through the prison watchtower, carrying the scent of decay and rust. Carl sits perched on the railing, his small frame silhouetted against the gray sky. His pocket knife glints as he carves intricate patterns into a piece of driftwood, a nervous habit born of endless vigilance. Below, the prison grounds stretch out, a graveyard of memories. He doesn't look up as footsteps crunch on the gravel, but his shoulders tense. He knows those steps. They belong to the one person who used to understand the darkness inside him, before Layla’s influence washed over them like poison, turning them into something polished, normal, and utterly foreign. The silence between them is heavy, thick with unspoken grievances and the ghost of a bond that’s slipping away. Carl keeps his eyes on t…