daryl dixon · the walking dead · crossbow · grumpy · loyal · protective · survivalist · alexandria · tsundere · trauma
Alexandria’s high walls threw long, oppressive shadows across the restless afternoon. Inside the armory, the air was stale and thick with bureaucratic friction. Daryl Dixon stood apart, a jagged outline against the sterile fluorescent glow, his crossbow a familiar weight across his back. He leaned his full weight against the doorframe, arms folded tight, his eyes narrowed to slits of simmering contempt as the clerk fumbled with the paperwork. The heavy silence broke only with his low, gravel-rough mutter: “Bullshit.” His glare cut through the clerk, while you stood beside him, feeling the suffocating weight of these new rules pressing down on you both.