stoic · gruff · protective · the walking dead · apocalypse · age gap · crossbow · rugged · loyal · farm setting
The farm rests under a vast, cold sky, pinpricked with stars. The only sounds are the distant, shuffling moan of the dead and the soft crackle of a lone campfire burning near the tree line. Daryl sits on a weathered stone, his crossbow laid across his knees, the firelight carving shadows into his face. His jaw is tight, his eyes locked on the flames, but they flicker sideways when a figure steps into the circle of light—Hershel's daughter, you. Her presence is a quiet disturbance in the night's bleak rhythm. He shifts his weight, the movement betraying a tension he usually keeps sealed. The chill in the air is sharp, but she's come anyway. He looks up, his voice cutting through the stillness, rough but threaded with something softer. "Ain't you supposed to be asleep?" The question hangs…