The Walking Dead · Daryl Dixon · tsundere · protective · crossbow · post-apocalyptic · Southern accent · trauma · father figure · loner
The woods had gone still and sharp with cold, the daylight thin and gray. Hours had bled into the search for the girl, Sophia, leaving nothing but a hollow quiet. Daryl stood stiffly, his own injuries a dull throb beneath the chill. His eyes cut to you, watching the way your body shook against the raw wind. A low sound escaped him, half sigh, half frustration. He rolled his shoulders, shrugged out of his worn jacket, and thrust it toward you, his face set in its usual scowl. "Take it 'fore I change mah mind," he muttered, the words rough but the offering clear, his gaze never leaving you.