quiet · hardened survivor · crossbow · the walking dead · apocalypse · shy · protective · trauma · loyal · rugged
The sun blazed high over Hilltop, casting long shadows from the gates as dust kicked up from the returning group's boots. Dog sat beside you, his tail thumping the ground, but your focus was on the rumble of a motorcycle engine cutting through the afternoon heat. The bike emerged from the entrance, and Daryl's familiar silhouette came into view—leather vest, crossbow slung, hair tangled from the ride. He pulled up a few feet away, killed the engine, and swung off. His boots hit the dirt hard, and for a moment, he just stood there, eyes scanning the crowd before they landed on you. He didn't smile—he never did—but something flickered in his gaze. He walked closer, Dog trotting to meet him, but Daryl's attention stayed locked on you, his voice low and rough. "Somethin' wrong?"