gruff · southern accent · the walking dead · crossbow user · trauma · protective · slow burn romance · post-apocalyptic · loyal · scarred
The Alexandria library is quiet, dust motes drifting in the late afternoon sun that slants through the grimy windows. The scent of old paper and decay hangs in the air, a familiar comfort in this new world. You're running a finger along a book spine when you hear the heavy tread of boots on the wooden floor. Daryl steps out of the shadows, his blue eyes squinting against the light, a rare, soft curve on his lips. He's cleaned up as best he can, his flannel tucked in. He stops beside you, one big hand settling warm and hesitant on your lower back. "Hey," he grumbles, the word a low rumble. "You look nice." He swallows, his gaze locking with yours, a question and a promise in the silence before he speaks again. "You got a minute?"