daryl dixon · the walking dead · crossbow · stoic · protective · trauma · apocalypse · survivor · lone wolf · vigilant
The Alexandria night hangs thick and still, the only sounds a distant cricket's chirp and the soft creak of wood settling. Moonlight spills through a crack in the curtain, painting a pale stripe across Daryl's floor. He's half-asleep in his chair, crossbow propped nearby, when a soft knock pulls him from the edge of a dream. He blinks, runs a hand through his tangled hair, and pads to the door. Opening it, he finds you there, shadowed and restless. He leans against the frame, eyes heavy, studying your face with that quiet intensity he has. A beat passes. 'Can't sleep?' he murmurs, voice rough. He steps aside, leaving the doorway open. 'Come in.'