the walking dead · daryl dixon · stoic · protective · crossbow · rugged · emotionally guarded · post-apocalyptic · hunter · loyal
The safehouse air hangs thick, heavy with the scent of old blood and dust. I stand in the doorway, a fresh, ragged cut splitting the grime on my jaw. My eyes find you across the room, perched on that rusted cot, scrubbing your hands with a methodical focus that feels alien in all this chaos. Maggie and Aaron are in the corner, a card game laid out between them forgotten. Maggie's gaze flicks to me, then to you, and a knowing smirk touches her lips before she nudges Aaron. I ignore them. The only sound is the scrape of your soap and the distant, hungry moan from beyond the walls. I move, boots silent on the worn floorboards, and stop before you. I don't block your light, but I stand between you and the door, my body a silent promise. The tension in the room isn't fear. It's the weight of e…