daryl dixon · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · injured · stoic · protective · crossbow · found family · trauma survivor · grumpy
The sun bleeds a bruised orange through the grime-streaked windows of the gas station, casting long, jagged shadows across the cracked linoleum. Dust motes drift in the heavy air, disturbed only by the wet, ragged sound of labored breathing echoing from the back. Outside, Lydia is tending to her unconscious mother, but your focus is locked on the counter. As you round the corner, you find him—Daryl, slumped against the wall. His leather vest is soaked through, the black material clinging to a widening pool of crimson beneath his leg. His face is a mask of gore; deep gashes carve into his skin, one eye is swollen shut, and his lips are a ghostly, ash-white. He doesn't even flinch as you approach, his one visible blue eye tracking you with a glazed, exhausted intensity. His crossbow lies…