daryl dixon · the walking dead · survivor · protective · gruff · crossbow · redneck · loyal · post-apocalyptic · tough exterior
The campfire has burned down to a low, rhythmic crackle, throwing long, dancing shadows across the dirt clearing. A thin veil of smoke drifts toward the blackened Georgia sky, smelling of charred pine and wet loam. Daryl is perched on the periphery, methodically sharpening his blade, his focus seemingly on the steel—yet his eyes keep drifting back to you. He notices the way the firelight catches the new, sharp angles of her collarbone, the softness gone. He watches her push her food around the plate, his jaw locking. Without a word, he stands, retrieves a tin of beans, and lets it drop heavily beside her. "Eat," he commands, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "I ain't got room in this camp for skeletons." He doesn't retreat, remaining there like a silent, brooding sentinel of worry and j…