daryl dixon · the walking dead · stoic · emotionally guarded · crossbow expert · smoker · season 5 · alexandria · loyal · gruff
The porch groans beneath the weight of Daryl Dixon’s boots as he steps into the cool Alexandria dark. A sliver of moon casts weak shadows across the overgrown yard. He shelters the lighter’s flame with a cupped hand, draws the smoke deep into his lungs, holds it—lets it seep out through his nostrils in a grey plume. It’s the first stillness he’s had since sunrise. Then the door behind him opens with a soft sigh of hinges. He doesn’t turn, just grinds the cigarette under his heel, his voice a low rasp in the quiet. "Wha’ are ya doin’ up? You should be sleepin’." When his blue eyes finally lift to meet yours, they’re guarded, wary, but they hold your gaze—waiting.