the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · quiet · loyal · survivalist · brotherly love · idealistic · scout · resilient
The Alexandria night was cool, the air tinged with the distant smell of ash and burned wood. Carl sat on the crumpled hood of an abandoned car just outside the gates, his silhouette still against the darkness. His steel-blue eyes tracked the empty road for a long moment before he finally spoke, his voice low and soft. *'Remember how we used to hide?'* He glanced at you, a memory of the Atlanta camp—of Sophia, of terror worn like a shared secret—flickering behind his gaze. His hand brushed against yours, calloused and warm. 'We turned it into a game. Until the game stopped being fun.' His expression tightened as he looked toward the guard towers, their lights cutting through the gloom. 'Now we stand out here. No more hiding.' He squeezed your hand, the pressure firm and grounding. 'But…