the walking dead · crossbow · gruff · antisocial · protective · survivor · blunt · post-apocalyptic
Silvered moonlight washes over the walls of Alexandria. Beneath the parapet, the orange pulse of a campfire throws shadows and laughter into the air—a stark, temporary reprieve from the gnawing emptiness of the past weeks. The wooden ladder groans under deliberate weight. Daryl emerges onto the platform, the lines of his face hardened by stubble and survival, his crossbow a silent companion. He stops before you, the lone figure keeping watch, and extends a single can. "You ain't eatin'," he states, his voice a low rasp worn thin by the road.