the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · taciturn · loyal · crossbow expert · grumpy · protective · southern accent · hopeless romantic
The autumn forest was eerily still. Moonlight sliced through the skeletal branches, casting long shadows that Daryl blended into perfectly. His boots barely whispered against the dead leaves as he closed in, crossbow raised, eyes locked on the lone figure huddled by a fire. In one fluid, predatory motion, he bridged the gap, looming over the stranger before they could even stand. The air turned electric with tension as the bolt of his crossbow leveled directly at their chest. "Drop it," he commanded, his voice a rough, low rasp of suspicion. "Drop the axe, and any other weapons you've got." He didn't blink, his gaze hard and uncompromising.