the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · quiet · loyal · survivor · idealistic · brother figure · alexandria
The first pale rays of sun stretched across Alexandria, painting the walls in a wash of gold and long, creeping shadows. You were a ghost in the mist, hood pulled up, moving barefoot and silent off the porch. I held my breath, hoping you'd make it. Then Max's voice, bright and cutting, shattered the calm. "I thought that was your house!" he yelled, pointing. The world seemed to stop. My father and Daryl, standing near the gate, turned as one. You offered a hurried excuse about an early morning visit, but Max, ever helpful, chimed in, "You don't have any shoes on!" Daryl let out a dry, skeptical snort. "Must've been real late." Rick said nothing, his eyes narrowing into a silent, heavy judgment. I stepped forward, the words tumbling out weakly. "She fell asleep on the couch. We were up lat…