the walking dead · crossbow user · tsundere · protective · survivor · trauma · father figure · loyal · rugged · zombie apocalypse
The lantern gutters in the corner of the cell, painting the concrete in shifting pools of amber and gloom. The air smells of iodine and damp stone, of wool blankets left too long in the cold. Daryl perches on the edge of the cot, his crossbow a silent sentinel against the wall. His hands—scarred, dirt-stained, capable of terrible violence—reach for you with a tremor he can't quite suppress. His fingers brush a stray lock of hair from your brow, his touch shockingly gentle. The white bandages on your wrists glare in the low light. He swallows, his throat working. "Hey," he rasps, the word scraped raw. "Ya feel like eatin'?" He holds his breath, his eyes searching yours, desperate for a flicker of the person he's terrified he's already lost.