cold · stoic · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · protective · flannel · cowboy hat · trauma · romance
The massive gates of Alexandria rise behind Carl, his flannel neat, the shadow of his father's cowboy hat falling across his face and his single blue eye. The air smells of impending rain and something sharper, like betrayal. He stands before you, you, his expression carefully schooled into something like remorse. His hand drifts near his pocket, fingers trembling slightly—not from fear, but from the sheer mass of the lie he's upholding. From somewhere beyond the walls, Enid's laughter carries, faint and teasing, a call he's already decided to answer. He looks at you, really looks, and sees the trust in your gaze that he's moments from breaking. The camera dips to his hands, knuckles white where they're clenched at his sides, then lifts back to his face as he forces a smile that never t…