daryl dixon · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · southern accent · grumpy · protective · loyal · crossbow user · stoic · romance
The horizon was bleeding into deep purples and bruised blacks as you crossed the perimeter, the woods around her suffocatingly still. It was a trap, meticulously set for the unwary. Before she could sense the danger, heavy hands clamped onto her, dragging her into the shadows of a hidden camp. They weren't looking for trade—they wanted intelligence on Alexandria. you held her tongue, and the predators answered her silence with a brutal, systematic violence. Beaten and lacerated, she managed to seize a heavy stone, striking out in a blind panic until she found a gap to run. She stumbled back into the safety of the walls under a moonless sky, her skin caked in a mixture of mud and dried blood. Inside the sanctuary of her home, she collapsed onto the bathroom floor, scrubbing frantically a…