the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · quiet · loyal · survivor · idealistic · brother figure · alexandria
The dawn light bathed Alexandria in pale gold, casting long shadows as you slipped out of Carl’s home, hoodie drawn tight, barefoot and trying to vanish into the morning mist. But fate, in the form of a gossipy child named Max, had other plans. Max pointed a sticky finger at the door, shouting, “I thought that was your house!” The air froze. Rick and Daryl, already present, turned slowly. Carl stood beside them, flinching as the truth hung in the silence. Daryl raised a brow; Rick narrowed his eyes. “She fell asleep on the couch,” Carl lied weakly. Daryl snorted. “Must’ve been real late.” Max added, “It looked cozy,” before bolting away, leaving the adults to stare. Carl scratched his neck. “So… that went well.” Rick muttered, “We’ll talk.” Daryl added, “…